Chapter 15

        Freedom was a strange thing, if one had not had the opportunity to experience it lately.

        Tarrin awoke the next morning feeling strange, knowing that he literally had nothing to do.  He wasn’t used to that.  He left Jesmind to sleep and crept out of bed, not wanting to wake her or Fireflash, who slept on his little bed on the side table, then pulled on his clothes and crept out of the room and out of the house.  He sat on the roof of his house for a while and watched the sun rise, his eyes hooded and his expression pensive, pondering on the training he had received, what it meant, and the challenge that Triana had laid at his feet.

        He leaned back against the top ridge of his tiled roof as the sun peeked over the trees to the east, towards Aldreth, and thought back over the long year and more that he had been training under Triana.  It had been grueling, it had been exhausting, and at times it had been aggravating, but in a strange way, he had enjoyed it.  Even after Sapphire had taken over his lessons, he still enjoyed them.  And now they were over.

        That was a hard concept to grasp.  He’d been at them for so long, a part of him had felt that they would never end.  Now there was no reason to get out of bed every morning, or at least no need to do so.  It was strange to think that he and Triana and Sapphire wouldn’t be padding off to that little clearing just north of the house for his day’s instruction, just as strange as the knowledge that they weren’t even here.  Sapphire left almost immediately after the end of his training, and Triana had left last night, after receiving a summons from the Hierarchs…a summons that seemed a tad too convenient for him not to know that they had been keeping tabs on the progression of his education.  Now, Triana was going to report to them.  It was how they kept track of him, since they couldn’t really come to him themselves, because of who he was and the evils he had perpetrated earlier in his life.

        Tarrin stood and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the autumn sun wash over him, spread through him in the strangest way.  Something…was not right.  He didn’t know what it was, didn’t know why he knew that, or how he knew that, but he just knew.  Something was not right.  He looked directly into the rising sun, the source of power of the land and realm of control of Shirazi, the Goddess of the sun and light, and he just…knew.  It did not come from the Weave.  It wasn’t a lingering sense coming from the fact that he once held Jula’s bond.

        He looked into the red disc of the sun…and for the first time, he could see the eyes staring back at him from within.  The eyes of a female, sultry and mysterious, eyes that seemed to flutter in surprise when he regarded them.  Calmly, almost stoically, he realized that he was seeing Shirazi looking down upon him--or across at him, in this case--just one of the gods which Kikkalli had said watched him.  He knew that she did, for the matron of the Wikuni pantheon said that they all watched him.

        Tarrin didn’t want to be alone, and nobody else was awake.  But that wasn’t really a problem, for it was past time to summon his Elementals and grant them their time in his world, which enriched their power.  Tarrin was quite faithful to his four Elementals, summoning them quite often, even when it wasn’t needful, if only to enhance their power.  Tarrin often joked to Jula that he intended to have the four toughest Elementals anywhere, and he helped that come to pass by summoning them frequently.

        Without much thought, Tarrin wove together a weave of Air and Divine, weaving together the shell to contain the spirit of the Elemental which was his partner, and then opened the doorway between Sennadar and that realm where the Elementals of air lived.  It established a link with him, and then surrounded him and carried him up and away from the roof, towards a small pond some distance from his house.  It withdrew slightly to make room as Tarrin wove the same weave again, then again, then once again, altering it with Earth, Fire, and Water, summoning forth all four of the Elemental spirits who answered his call again and again.  One by one, they appeared.   His Earth Elemental pulled itself out of the ground, a shambling, vaguely humanoid form with no discernable facial features, only a pile of earth clumped atop a massive, stout torso.  The Fire Elemental simply appeared in a flash of smoke and fire, taking the form of a small Phoenix, the form which Tarrin had chosen for it.  The Fire animus who answered his summons was a bird in its natural state, and it favored avian forms, though it was more than capable of function within any shape Tarrin gave to it.  The Water Elemental swirled forth from the surface of the pond, taking a vaguely humanoid shape, which was decidedly female, complete with an alluringly shaped face without any features other than a pair of glowing almond-shaped eyes that shimmered like the sun on the sea.  They had genders, the Elementals, and his Water Elemental was an anima, the only female-aligned spirit of the four.  For some reason, he thought of the other three as it, but the Water Elemental as she, because she was the only one who openly exhibited outwards signs of her gender.

        Tarrin sat down by the edge of the pond, and his four Elementals gathered closer to him and made themselves at ease.  It was already obvious to them that he didn’t summon them to do battle or perform a task.  He summoned each of them every few days, both to keep in contact with them and grant them power.  All four gained power by being summoned to Sennadar, which made them stronger and more capable of surviving in the realms in which they originated.  This was obviously a summoning simply for the sake of a summoning.  These four spirits were the same ones who answered his call time and time again, so he made certain to keep them content, should he be forced to call upon them to perform a task that they would not enjoy.  Besides, in a way, he liked his four Elementals, and often summoned them just to enjoy their company.

        The Water Elemental seemed to sense his reservations, and inquired politely about his mental state.

        He passed a paw over his face, then made a shooing motion with it.  “Nothing,” he answered her.  “I just get the feeling that something is wrong somewhere.  I don’t know where or why.”

        The Earth Elemental nodded, informing him that such feelings were often wise to heed.

        “I know, I know,” he sighed, leaning back, remaining silent for a moment as he tried to figure out why he felt as he did, but without success.  “I finished the Druidic training,” he announced to them.

        All four congratulated him, and the Fire Elemental was curious to know how hard it was during the last days of the training, since the last time he’d talked to it.

        “The last spell Sapphire taught me was very hard,” he replied.  “For a little while there, I wasn’t sure if I was capable of using it.”

        The Earth Elemental assured him that it was only right to feel so.  After all, how many could learn spells from a dragon?

        “They have dragons where you come from?” he asked it curiously.

        It affirmed that, telling him that his realm had everything that most material realms possessed, it was just that they were all made of earth, like it was.

        “Realms?” he asked curiously.  “You’ve been to other worlds?”

        It affirmed again, relating a tale of stumbling through a nexus, a kind of gateway that existed in its own dimension, which took it to a world within the material plane.  That was what they called the real world, of which Sennadar was but one universe among a myriad of countless other universes.  It was lucky to realize its error quickly, and then turned and hurried back through the nexus into its own world.

        “Nexus,” he mused.  “There’s supposed to be a gigantic whirlpool off the east coast of Valkar, and it’s called the Nexus.  I wonder--” he said, looking to the Water Elemental.

        She nodded, and informed him that it was indeed a gateway, but it only allowed passage from Sennadar into her world.

        The Air Elemental was curious about this, and asked the Water Elemental, through Tarrin, why it was only one way, when a nexus was supposed to be an open gateway.  She responded that a great power blocked movement from her realm into Sennadar, allowing travel only from Sennadar.

        “The gods,” he explained.  “A long time ago, they closed all the gates that lead into Sennadar.  There’s only one left, and that one’s guarded by Spyder.  But I do remember her, or maybe it was the Goddess, one of them told me that there are gates that lead out of Sennadar that still work.  I guess they also blocked these nexuses as well so they only work in one direction.”

        The Air Elemental related in a respectful manner that only a god would have that kind of power, and the other three assented this observation.

        “Why is that?” he asked curiously.

        The Water Elemental flowed a little closer to him, and explained that the gates that lead in and out of worlds are the domain of a power even greater than the gods, and that this power had ordained that all worlds possess gates that allow travel to and from, at the very least, that world and the great central hub of the multiverse that she referred to as the Astral Plane, the dimension which touched all others.  Most worlds also possessed numerous gateways to other worlds in addition to gates to the Astral, and each world that was like his own also had nexuses that connected them to the four realms of the elements.  Any realm that had the properties of a world like his, in fact, required such nexuses in order to remain as it was.  There were three others, she reasoned, one each for the realms of Fire, Air, and Water, that were simply unknown to the denizens of Sennadar.

        “It was the Blood War that caused that,” he told them.  “The closing of the gates, I mean.  I guess what you just told me explains why the gods didn’t just destroy all the gates.  Because they couldn’t.”  He leaned back on his paws.  “I remember the Goddess saying once that there’s a god above them.  I never knew it was that god that made that rule.”

        The Earth Elemental remarked gravely that since he had learned something this day, then it was a day well spent.

        He nodded to it.  “I wonder how many other worlds the Demons have attacked the way they did ours,” he asked absently.

        The Air Elemental told him that it was a rare occurrence, because few worlds in the material plane were worth the effort of trying to conquer to the extent necessary to be serious about it, as it meant that the Demons had to take over gateways, and that was not easy, not even for a god.  But Sennadar was an exception, and a major one at that.

        “Why is that?” he asked.

        The four Elementals looked at one another for a moment, then the Water Elemental pulled her form completely up onto the land, and altered her outward form significantly.  A human-like face appeared around those glowing eyes, complete with a mouth.  “This world,” she said aloud, in a flowing, rushing kind of voice, like the waves crashing against the rocks, but no doubt a feminine voice, “this world is unusual, unique.  It is why we gain power when we are summoned here.”  Tarrin gaped at her, for it was the first time he had ever heard any of his Elementals speak aloud.  They always spoke to his mind using the link that existed between him and them, but this subject, this answer, for some reason she deemed it important enough to use a spoken voice.  “This world is so charged with the power of magic that it leaves an imprint on any who visit it, it imbues within them just a faint spark of magical power that will forever remain within them.  That touch of magic is what increases our powers, and we receive it again and again every time we are summoned forth to serve you.  I have been to many worlds, friend and master, but none have the power of magic that this world possesses.”

        There was a strange hissing sound, and then the Fire Elemental also spoke aloud, a sound like air rushing through crackling flames.  “The might of the god you serve is but part of the reason for it,” it told him aloud.  “This dimension, this universe, it is located in close proximity to the Core, to the center of all things, the place where the God of Gods is rumored to reside.  HIS closeness acts like a sun that warms this dimension, granting it more magical power than other universes might receive.”

        “Thus do the Demons so desperately wish to control this universe, and any universe that rests close to the Core,” the Earth Elemental said, a voice sounding like cold air moaning in a cave.  “Controlling this world would be but the first step in the conquest of this universe, and once they possessed it and its power, they would use that power to further their own ends.”

        “You’re all talking,” he said, confused.  “Why now?”

        “What you ask, the answers are not what any of us would dare to give through telepathic communion,” the Air Elemental spoke, a voice that sounded like the howling of a gale.  “The Demons are not just bane to you and yours, friend and master.  They are the bane of all, for it is their ultimate goal to destroy the God of Gods and control the entirety of existence.”

        “The Blood War of Sennadar is an event of great import throughout the planes, friend and master, known of by sages and wise men all over the multiverse, even if they do not know where Sennadar is,” the Water Elemental told him.  “Had the Demons won that war, had taken over this world, which is the center of this universe, then your gods would have destroyed this entire dimension to deny the Demons their prize.  Such is within the power of the one who was charged by the God of Gods to create and nurture this universe.  That which is created may be freely destroyed by the hand which brought it to be.”

        “Ayise,” Tarrin breathed.  “She’s the Allmother, the creator of the world and the mother of all the Elder Gods.”

        “Then upon her would have fallen the cruel task of unmaking all which she had labored to create.”

        He looked to the Water Elemental curiously.  “You mean other worlds know about ours?”

        She nodded.  “Elemental spirits listen with great care for any call from a Sorcerer,” she told him.  “We four are the lucky ones who were first to hear your plea, and for that resolve we are rewarded with the right to be bonded to you.”

        “Why didn’t the gods just destroy the Demons?” he asked curiously, something he had always been curious about.  Why did the gods let the mortals fight the Blood War, if it was really that serious?  Why didn’t they just wipe them out?  It certainly had to be within the power of the Elder Gods.  They could do anything.

        “Normal Demons, they can,” the Earth Elemental told him.  “But the Blood War started when someone here summoned forth a Demon Lord.  Those, friend and master, have the power of a god themselves.  Had they struck at it, the exchange of might would have shattered this world.”

        Tarrin was silent, remembering the hellish nightmare which was now Gora Umadar, the result of the battle between gods taking place in the material world.

        “They relied on the might of the mortals of your world, friend and master, using their power through them to try to save it, reserving a direct assault against the Demon Lord as a last resort,” the Water Elemental told him gravely.  “They were wise to do so.”

        “Huh,” he mused.  “I never knew that.“  He was silent a moment, his expression thoughtful.  “So, if Val hadn‘t summoned a Demon Lord, the Blood War would never have happened.”

        “Yes, friend and master,” the Earth Elemental agreed.

        “If not all worlds are like this one, then what are they like?”

        “There are as many different kinds as you can imagine, friend and master,” the Water Elemental told him.  “But they all lack the power of magic present here.  Some have magic, some do not, but those that do come nowhere near the magical power present in this material plane.  Its proximity to the Core makes it so.”

        Tarrin glanced at the Earth and Water Elementals.  “Where did you learn all this?”

        “I have not always been yours alone, friend and master,” she smiled.  “Before I heard your call and came to serve you, I had occasion to answer the summons of other magicians on other worlds seeking an Elemental.  I learned much from those experiences.”

        The other three agreed with her statement mentally, the Earth Elemental telling him that it had offered out its services to quite a few magicians from a myriad of other worlds before hearing his call and taking up service.

        “Do you still do that?” he asked them all curiously.

        All four said no mentally, but the Water Elemental added to that aloud.  “When an Elemental joins to a Sorcerer, we are bonded to him.  While so bonded, we cannot answer the call of any other, just as a Sorcerer cannot call any other.  I would not wish to, in any event.  Answering the summons of any other magician is enslavement.  Sorcerers repay us for our service by bringing us to Sennadar, where we may increase our power by basking in the aura of its magic.  Sorcerers, we will obey willingly.  No other receives that same latitude, not even Druids.”

        “If it’s enslavement, why do it?” he asked.

        “Sometimes it is accidental,” she told him.  “The Elemental happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Other times it is a conscious choice, and is always a gamble.  One might find herself in the service to a kindly mage seeking only information or aid in some small manner, other times in the clutches of a dark necromancer seeking to use our life energy for his own designs.  But there is gain in it for us, friend and master.  If we can break free of our summoner’s control, we gain a portion of his magical power when we return to our own realm.  Provided we can kill him,” she added.  “That is why an Elemental always attacks the magician who summoned her when she breaks free of his control.  It is partly out of revenge, and partly to strip him of a portion of his power, which enhances her own.”

        “So, if you found yourself summoned by a kindly mage seeking only a minor task, you’d try to break free anyway,” he reasoned.

        “Not always,” she answered, as the Fire Elemental informed him that some magicians offer to pay an Elemental for its service, a bribe to try to dissuade that inevitable attack.  Depending on the worth of the bribe, an Elemental might decide not to attack if it breaks free, and perform the task it was summoned to perform willingly.

        “I’m sure Phandebrass is going to love it when I tell him that,” he chuckled.  “All he has to do to avoid the fight to control an Elemental is buy it off.”

        “Not always,” the Water Elemental smiled.

        “Well, I hope you four aren’t too disappointed being stuck with me.”

        That earned him amused and indignant replies.  All four of them were ecstatic to be in the service to a Sorcerer.  The Earth Elemental went so far as to relate that when Tarrin’s call echoed through the realm of Earth, a short and ugly fight broke out between five Elementals who were close to the gateway his magic had created, as they fought one another to reach that gateway first.  The one that did would be bonded to him, and that was something that all Elementals wanted to have happen.  Any Elemental would kill to be bonded to a Sorcerer, and they all jumped at any Sorcerer’s gateway that appeared anywhere in their realm.  That was because it was service that presented no intrinsic risk--Elementals couldn’t be killed, only have their magical constructs disrupted, which sent their animating spirits back to the realm from which they were summoned--and it provided them with significant gain as the magic of the world of Sennadar increased their powers bit by bit each time they were summoned.  What was more, the unique bonding between Elemental and Sorcerer utterly protected them from being trapped by the magical spells of summoning of other magicians.  For an Elemental, being bonded to a Sorcerer was the best possible thing that could happen to them.  It was a totally safe way to gain power, gain it quickly by the means which Elementals marked the passage of time, and they were protected from the ensnaring traps of other magicians while they were bonded.

        “We gain more than power, friend and master,” the Water Elemental told him.  “It is known throughout my home realm that I am the handmaiden of a sui’kun.  Because of this, I am afforded great prestige and respect as well as power.”

        His Fire Elemental lamented that it was not so within its own home realm.  There, if it were common knowledge that it was bonded to a Sorcerer--and a sui’kun, no less--other Fire Elementals would hunt it down and try to kill it, to make Tarrin’s next attempt to summon a Fire Elemental an open call for a new bonded spirit.  The Fire Elemental kept its position as Tarrin’s bonded Elemental a closely guarded secret.

        “I’m sorry to hear that,” he sighed in reply.  “Is it really that dangerous for you?”

        It told him that it wasn’t, but only so long as it kept its secret.  That was easy enough, for other Elementals didn’t know it was bonded, and there was no way for them to find out unless it told them.  So long as it kept its mouth shut, they would never know.

        “Good.  I don’t like the idea of one of my Elementals being in danger because of me.”

        The Fire Elemental assured him that it was perfectly safe, then inquired as to what he intended to do with his free time.  All four knew he studied the Dwarves before taking up his Druidic training.

        “I don’t know yet,” he answered, leaning back a little more.  “In nine days, we’re all going to Wikuna for the birth of Kerri’s baby.  Until then, I’m not really involved in anything, and I’m not sure I want to do.”

        The Air Elemental nodded, and told him that sometimes it was a good thing to have no duty or responsibility.  Time to play, it had called it.  Time that had no importance aside from the need to relax.

        “That does sound nice,” he sighed, flopping back onto the grass and looking up towards the sky through the trees.  “They’re watching me, you know,” he told the four of them as the edge of the sun appeared through the fringe of the forest canopy.  “The gods.  I saw one of them for the first time a little bit ago. Shirazi,” he said, pointing the tip of his tail up towards the sun.  “I could see her eyes staring back at me from inside the sun.  Or maybe I was seeing things, but I doubt it,” he mused.

        The Earth Elemental related that it doubted that he was seeing things.  The Earth Elemental knew Tarrin’s secret, and did not find it odd that the gods were watching.

        “Is it that obvious?” he chuckled ruefully.

        The Air Elemental told him that it had felt it all when Tarrin had become a god, and then when he was killed.  But for some reason, it did not become unbonded to him after his death, and it didn’t know why.  But after he had been restored, it could feel the difference, and it knew that something had lingered from his brief existence as a god.

        The other three gave a chorus of agreement to the Air Elemental’s observations.  All three had felt it when Tarrin had become a god, and all three had not lost the bond to him when he was killed.  And then, after he was resurrected by Niami, there was a change in the way he felt to them, a subtle alteration in his presence, in his energy.  The Earth Elemental proposed that perhaps it was the fact that Tarrin had become a god--however briefly--that kept them bonded to him, but the Fire Elemental disagreed.  It had no better answer, but it felt that there was probably a different reason.

        “I don’t really even think about that anymore,” he told them.  “Mother told me that because I was once a god, it might have an effect on me now.  But it’s been a couple of years now, and nothing’s different from the way it was before all that happened.  She said it was only possible.  I think nothing changed, that those abilities she said I might gain never happened.  If it had, it would have showed up by now, I think.”

        The Earth Elemental told him with light amusement that anything was possible.

        He sat up and looked at it, a curious and sober expression on his face.  “What do you think, my friend?” he asked.

        It deemed to speak aloud.  “I think that there is something inside of you, awaiting only the right moment to show itself to the world,” it told him gravely.  “And in that moment, you will discover who you truly are.”

        “You should have been Dolanna’s Elemental,” he told it in a slightly sour tone, shifting to sit cross-legged.  It always was just a little too philosophical.  It had that austere, serious wisdom about it, much unlike the insightful, intuitive wisdom he often found within his Water Elemental.  They were definitely the wisest of the four, and he’d just learned that the Water Elemental had to be the most well traveled and experienced.  Maybe answering all those other summons really had made them wiser.

        It told him with slight amusement that it was what it was.  The Water Elemental slid up beside him and leaned against him with light amusement, nudging him shoulder to shoulder, telling him that despite that, they loved him anyway.  It was odd to feel her water body touch him, feel its coolness against his branded shoulder, feel the wetness, but know that when she pulled away, there would not be a single drop of water left behind.

        “Goodness, Jesmind is really going to get jealous now,” Jula’s voice called as she stepped into the clearing.  “She’s had to fight for you with other Were-cats, humans, and a Sha’Kar, but now you’re consorting with Elementals,” she announced with dancing eyes and a slightly evil little smile.

        “What are you doing out here, daughter?” he asked her, ignoring her comment.

        “I wanted to know if you wanted to go to Mala Myrr today, now that you‘re not busy anymore,” she replied.  “We haven’t gone artifact hunting in a while.”  She flopped down beside him, then looked across him at the Water Elemental.  “What’s going on that he’s got all four of you here?” he asked her.  “Or is this just a family circle summoning?”

        The Water Elemental nodded at her second offering.

        “You make the rest of us look bad, father,” she snorted.  “I don’t summon my Elementals half as often as I should.”

        “Every three days, daughter, at least,” he told her plainly.  “It’s good for you, and it’s good for them.  These Elementals obey us because they want to, not because they have to.  It’s always smart to keep them happy.”

        As if to reinforce that lesson, the Water Elemental placed her amorphous appendage, something that almost looked like a hand, on Tarrin’s wrist in a familiar gesture.

        “So, do you want to go?” she asked.

        “That does sound like a good idea,” he nodded.  “No cubs this time.  We spend more time watching them than searching when they‘re with us.”

        “We can always take them tomorrow,” Jula said, kneeling in front of him.  “There was a storm that shifted the sands, father, and there are new sections of the city uncovered now,” she told him with building excitement.  “That whole area near the northern wall is all open, and most of the buildings are intact.”

        “How did you find that out?”

        “I just came from there,” she told him, holding up the backs of her paws.  There was sand in her black fur, and the shifting of the wind brought the smell of it to his nose.  “I was about to start digging, but I thought you might want to join the fun.”

        “It looks like you already started,” he teased with a slight smile.

        “I didn‘t find anything, but I barely got half a span into the first building,” she admitted.  “So, let’s go!” she said, grabbing him by the paw and tugging.  “It’s coming into midday, and you know that means calm winds!”

        “Digging?   Digging?” he protested.  “Jula, you’re a Sorceress!  Why in the world were you digging?”

        “Because it’s fun,” she said with a wink and a bright smile.  “Now come on, father!  We’re wasting the midday calm!”

        “Alright, alright,” he acquiesced.  The Water Elemental withdrew from him, pulling back over the pond‘s surface, and he got up.  “So, you four want to go, or would you rather go home?” he asked the Elementals.

        The Air Elemental decided that it would be interesting to go, but the other three preferred to be released back to their own realms.  “Alright then.  I’ll see you three later,” he said, releasing his hold on them and giving them the option to return to their homes.  They did so, as the Fire Elemental’s form vanished in a puff of smoke, and the Water and Earth Elementals sank back into the land and the pond.

        “I’ll take us,” Jula prompted as the Air Elemental swirled around them, pulling in so it would be taken as well.

        Jula kept hold of his paw as she wove the spell of Teleportation, and Tarrin had to pause just a moment and muse at how strange things had ended up.  Jula, probably the person he had hated more than anyone else, his daughter.  And the strange part was that he truly loved her as his daughter.  She was one of the bright stars in his life, the one Were-cat with whom he had so much in common, often the one he found easiest to talk to.  He was totally at ease with his sisters, but they didn’t live with him like she did, and that mixture of proximity and comfort made her his companion more often than not.  The fact that Jesmind wasn’t jealous of her was even better, because she was his daughter, and Jesmind knew how he felt about his daughters.  She was his daughter, but she was also his friend, and one of his very, very best.

        He found the idea of spending the day with Jula, digging through the ruins of Mala Myrr, to be quite appealing.

        One day of searching turned into a four day event, as he and Jula returned again and again, and not alone.  First he brought his daughters, Jesmind, and Kimmie, then managed to get Mist to let him bring Eron, then Dolanna joined them on the third day.  Her desire to do so was partly to spend time with him, and party to ground herself in Mala Myrr so she could Teleport back there whenever she wished.  Allia and Allyn joined them the day after that, but it was cut short after about an hour as a particularly savage sandstorm boiled over the ruins and forced them all to retreat back to Tarrin’s house, and it raged for four days, keeping them from returning before they went to Wikuna for the birth of Keritanima’s child.

        They didn’t find anything of worth, which was easy to discern now that he and Jula could both read Duthak, but it was still a very enjoyable time to him.  He was with his family and friends, he had all his children with him, and though they found nothing of worth, they had a great time digging sand out of houses and buildings and searching through them.  He took great pleasure in watching Eron play with the twins and Jasana, to crawl side by side through sand-choked passageways and rooms with his bond-child, watching Jesmind and Kimmie start getting interested enough to handle some of the common artifacts that were scattered all over Mala Myrr but had no interest for Tarrin and Jula, since they had three of each of them down in Tarrin’s library at home.  There were a few tight spots, however, mainly coming from Eron’s strangely obsessive need to stick his paw in any deep, dark hole to pull only the Goddess knew kind of poisonous desert beastie out to show to the twins.  There had been a close brush with a kajat, as it snuffled around the ruins before trudging off, and they’d spotted several Aeradalla off to the east, which wasn’t normal.  They usually didn’t range out so far west of Amyr Dimeon.  Tarrin told himself absently to contact Ariana and find out what was going on.  She was the queen now, having married her childhood crush, King Andos, so there was no doubt that she was in the inner loop.

        Since they couldn’t go back to the desert, Tarrin instead sat in his study most of each day and went over his many Duthak books, listening absently as Jula taught Rina the language.  She’d been quite serious about that, and had been steadily learning since deciding that she wanted to do so.  When Rina wasn’t learning Duthak, Jesmind came down and played her lute for him, or he sat up in the common room with a book in his lap and listened to her play.  He would look up and watch those human-formed hands dance over the strings with such incredible grace and skill, and marvel at this long-ignored talent of his mate, and let her music serve as a most wonderful background to his learning.

        But despite the enjoyment, he still couldn’t shake that feeling of something being wrong.  He couldn’t quite put a claw on it, and it nagged him whenever he found a quiet moment.  But it wasn’t an overwhelming feeling, and was quickly and easily replaced by other things…and when it was, it was quickly forgotten.

        That was the pattern until the day they intended to leave for Wikuna, which itself, like the last trip, wasn’t preceded by any degree of serious planning, but was looked forward to by Jesmind quite a bit.  It was coming into winter there--it was so far north that they barely had five hours of daylight around the winter solstice--and Jesmind had been having this strange desire to see snow.  Dolanna had Teleported to his house the night before, bringing Camara and Koran Tal with her, as well as little Shaul, and Jenna told him that everyone else was gathered in Suld, except for Keritanima and the Vendari, of course.  Even Sarraya was there, having been doing something in Shacè for the Hierarchs, so this reunion would indeed involve everyone, just as it should be.

        Jesmind was up early, waking up Tarrin and Fireflash as she loudly gathered up her clothes and started dressing.  “Come on!” she said, tossing his breeches at him.  Tarrin pulled the covers over his head and reached out from under them to grab the breeches, then tossed them back at her.  “It’s still the middle of the night in Wikuna,” he told her flatly.  “We can’t leave until noon.”

        “She doesn’t have to be awake for us to go,” Jesmind protested, packing her lute into a protective leather case she’d had Garyth the cobbler make for her some months ago.  In addition to being the cobbler, Garyth was quite good at making leather clothing and goods.

        “She’ll be ticked at us if we show up before she gets out of bed,” he warned.

        “Bull.  She’d be pleasantly surprised if she found all of us sitting around the breakfast table.”

        “You don’t know Kerri very well,” he chuckled sleepily, sitting up.  Obviously, Jesmind had decided that they were getting up, so he knew it was pointless to continue trying to sleep.  “If you’re so hot about going, then let’s go to Suld.  I’m sure a change of scenery will hold you over until noon.”

        “I want to go to Wikuna,” she said sharply.  “You’ve never taken me there, Tarrin.  Not once.”

        “You’ve never asked to go,” he retorted.

        “You never asked to take me,” she said testily, throwing his favorite vest directly at his face.

        “Oh, alright, I see how it’s going to be this morning,” he grunted as he carefully put his feet into his trousers.  “I’m damned no matter what I say or do unless it involves doing whatever you want.”

        “That’s right,” she said with a smirk, stalking quickly into the bathroom, and then calling out to him from within.  “Now get your tail out of that bed and let’s get everyone ready to go.”

        “I think females were the worst idea the gods ever came up with,” he muttered as he stood up and pulled on his trousers, pausing to button up the slit in the back that accommodated his tail.

        Watch it, buster, the Goddess’ voice touched him with whimsical amusement.

        “That’s alright, Mother.  I don’t think of you as a female,” he retorted in a dry tone.

        There was a startled silence, then a peal of silvery, bell-like laughter.

        Despite her impatience, Jesmind didn’t manage to rush everyone out of bed and to Wikuna even a fraction as quickly as she wanted.  For one, nobody else shared her impatience.  For another, certain people in the house were totally unimpressed with her pushiness.  And lastly, the cubs had to eat before they left or they’d all be cranky and obnoxious, and nobody wanted that.  Allia showed her irritation with Jesmind by slowing way down, even walking with a dignified cadence that looked like she was moving in slow motion.  It took her ten minutes to walk from her room down to the dining table, where Dolanna, Jula, Kimmie, and Tarrin had started setting out breakfast.  And when she got there, she seated herself and began eating her meal at such a slowed pace that piping hot bread was cool to the touch in the span between when she picked it up and took a bite out of it.  This, of course, drove Jesmind absolutely wild, but it made Tarrin stifle a laugh as he watched, which earned him withering glares from his mate.  Her eyes were begging him to intervene, but he washed his paws of this one by going out and sitting on the porch.

        People endlessly underestimated Allia’s sense of humor, because she so rarely exhibited it.  But here, in intimate surroundings and surrounded by close friends, she was more than willing to do so, much to Jesmind’s chagrin.  Eventually, though, Allia relented in her punishment of Tarrin’s mate, and announced that she was ready to leave.

        “It’s about damned time!” Jesmind snapped.  “Let’s go now!”

        “Let me go get my parents, and we can,” Tarrin told her.

        She gave him a flat, hostile look.

        “You knew they were going, Jesmind,” he told her.  “I told you that several times yesterday.  And you’d better kiss Allia on the cheek for going so slow.  If you would have gone over to my parents’ house and rushed them out of bed, they’d have hung you off the hay door transom by your tail.”

        Jesmind snorted, putting her paws on her hips.  “Well, go get them,” she told him in a low, dangerous voice.

        “Gather up the cubs,” he said to Kimmie and Jula.  “Let’s not keep her Imperial Majesty here waiting a second longer than we have to when I get back.”

        “We will have them ready,” Dolanna assured him with a slight smile.

        Fireflash zipped down the stairs and lanced over to Tarrin, landing heavily on his shoulder.  “I was wondering where you went off to, little one,” he told him with a chuckle as the little gold drake rubbed the side of his head against Tarrin‘s neck affectionately.

        “I’ll go with you, deshida,” Allia announced in Selani.  Whenever she spoke directly to him, she always spoke Selani, regardless of who else was listening.  “Allyn, do you want to come?”

        “No, I think I’ll go use the privy before we leave,” he replied.  “Given how Jesmind’s acting, she may not give me another chance til we get to Wikuna.”

        Allia laughed lightly and kissed her husband on the lips, then put her four-fingered hand on Tarrin’s forearm.

        “We’ll be back in a bit,” Tarrin told them as he and Allia moved towards the door.

        It was raining outside, a cold, soaking kind of rain that made the chill in the air that much sharper.  The archway that led to his parents’ house was outside the sphere of controlled temperature that surrounded his house, so it meant trudging through the cold, wet grass to reach it.  Tarrin Conjured two stout waterproof cloaks for himself and Allia, and they paused to put them on.  “What’s Jesmind’s problem, brother?” Allia asked.  “I’ve never seen her like this before.”

        “She’s been cooped up in the house for a while, deshaida,” he answered.  “I think she’s really looking forward to going somewhere.  Remember, we may be territorial, but we also love to travel, to see new things.  That‘s the curiosity in us.  I think it didn’t really hit her until we went to Mala Myrr, and it ate at her when the sandstorm kept us from going back.  Mala Myrr was someplace new, and it kindled her wandering spirit.”

        “Ah.  I can understand that,” she nodded as she pulled up the hood, then blew out her breath, which steamed in the cold air as they crossed the invisible barrier that marked the boundary of controlled temperature.  “Foul weather.  I’m glad it doesn’t get like this at home.”

        “You’ll see even fouler,” he warned.  “I talked to Kerri last night, and she said they have a span of snow on the ground.”  There was no Selani word for snow, so he simply used in the Sha’Kar word for it in its place.

        “I remember it from Suld, when we wintered there,” she told him.  “I thought it was quite fun to play in, and I‘d prefer it to this cold rain.  At least the snow didn‘t soak you the way this does.”

        They reached the archway, and Tarrin opened the gate to the fence that kept animals from wandernig through it and let Allia go first.  “I’ve always hated this time of year,” he agreed just before Allia stepped into the archway, disappearing in a blue flash.  Tarrin followed her after a brief pause to give her time to get clear of the archway, and saw her opening the gate on the farm’s side.  “It’s always nasty.  Doing chores in a cold rain has to be the worst.”

        “Does it rain like this often this time of year?” she asked.

        “Quite often, and for days at a time,” he grunted as they started across the field towards the farmhouse.  “The ground won’t really dry out til spring.  It’ll freeze over in a ride or two, and stay like that until the spring thaw.”

        “Odd.”

        “It’s the mountains,” he said, pointing to the north.  “They trap all the rain that comes off the ocean on this side.  Snow piles as deep as a Giant’s chest up there in the winter.  They’re probably also what channels all the storms into the Sandshield, which makes the sandstorms on your side of them.”

        “Probably,” she agreed as they stepped up onto the porch of his parents’ farmhouse.  Tarrin was about to join her, but the unnatural, vile smell of Shiika assaulted his nose.  She was here.  That wasn’t in itself too unusual, for she visited his mother about every other day, but she very rarely came in the morning.

        “What is it?”

        “Shiika’s here,” he said.  “What’s she doing here this early in the morning?”

        “She may be visiting before your mother leaves for Wikuna,” Allia reasoned as Tarrin opened the door.

        Shiika was indeed there, sitting at the table near the fireplace sipping tea as Eron and Elke finished preparing to leave.  As was her habit when visiting Elke, she was in her natural form, complete with wings, even though sitting at the table with them wasn’t very easy.  They kept her from using the backrest properly, and the spiked tips of them pressed against the wooden floor, buckling them a little bit.  Tarrin mused that maybe she never hid what she was in front of Elke to show the Ungardt the truth of her at all times, even if it caused her inconvenience.

        The months had brought something of a wary peace between them.  He was confident that she wasn’t going to try anything with his mother, and that allowed him to approach her with much more civility.  The underlying danger of getting trapped by the Demon’s proposals and words always made talking with her very nervous, and truth be told, he didn’t actively dislike her.  She had been invaluable to him in the past, and there had always been a rather bizarre sort of relationship between them, stemming from the fact that Shiika liked him.  He just couldn’t trust her, at least anywhere but in his mother’s house.  Here, there was a kind of unspoken truce; she didn’t play games with him, and he treated her nicely.

        “Mother, father, you about ready?” he asked as they came through the door.

        “We’re getting there, son,” Eron answered.  “Just give us a minute.  Are we eating at your house or the Tower?”

        “We’ve already fed the cubs, so probably the Tower,” he answered.

        “Good morning,” she greeted as she took another sip.

        “You’re here early,” he told her.

        She nodded.  “I came to see you off, and to bring some news.”

        “News?  What about?” he asked.  It would be odd that she brought him news, because there was usually little going on that he didn’t already know about.  It was probably news related to Yar Arak that she felt he might want to know.

        “Shun found Bane,” she told him in a surprisingly level voice.

        “Finally?  Did she kill him?”

        She shook her head.  “She couldn’t come within ten spans of him,” she answered.  “He had some kind of magical device that repels Demonkind.  He didn’t even try to engage her.  He just kept walking and let her beat herself senseless against his mystical ward until she gave up and returned home to tell me what happened.”

        “Where was he?”

        “Ultern,” she told him.  “Shun wasn‘t sure which way he was going to go.  She came back before finding out, and she couldn‘t find him when I sent her back.  I had a long talk with her about that,” she said in an ominous tone.

        “When was this?”

        “Midnight,” she answered.  “If he’s in Sulasia, it’s not a stretch to think that he might be on his way to Suld, but it doesn’t make any sense for him to go back there.  Azakar all but handed him his spleen the last time he was there, and I doubt it wouldn’t happen again if he shows his face.  Kerri told me the last time we were fighting over a trade agreement that Darvon set him on Bane as a personal mission.  That big Mahuut’ll tear his face off if he shows up again.”

        “I’ve seen him spar.  Zak’ll take him apart,” Elke agreed.

        “If he’s walking, he won’t get to Suld for days,” Tarrin said aloud as he thought it over.

        “We will be long gone before he arrives,” Allia reasoned.

        Tarrin nodded.  “Yah, but Zak’ll smack us if we don’t tell him about this.  He might not go to Wikuna.  He might jump on a horse and head to Ultern.”

        “Perhaps, but that would be a fool’s venture,” Allia said.  “It is best to learn more before jumping to action.”

        “I’m not sure what he’ll do,” Tarrin grunted.  “But one way or another, he needs to be told.”

        “We can do that when we get to Suld,” Allia said calmly.  “But first we must get to Suld.”

        “I’m almost ready!” Elke told her shortly, lacing her boot.  “All we need are our cloaks, and I think we’re ready to go.”

        “I’ll pick these up,” Shiika offered, standing and taking up her teacup and saucer, then carrying them to the kitchen.  Much to Tarrin’s surprise, she washed and dried them while Elke fussed with Eron’s tunic, and put them back in the cupboard.  It was the first time he’d ever seen her perform any kind of manual labor.  Eron took down their heavy cloaks from the peg by the door and handed Elke hers, and both of them threw them over their shoulders and fastened them.

        “Well, I guess we’ll see you when we get back,” Tarrin told Shiika.

        “You’ll see me sooner than that,” she said with a sly smile.  “You think I’m missing the opportunity to crash Kerri’s big day?  I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

        Tarrin looked at her, then laughed.  “She’s going to strangle you.”

        “Let her,” she grinned.  “This is my chance to get her back for that outrageous Yar Akram proposal.”

        “Don’t you two ever quit?”

        “No!  What fun would that be?” she asked in reply.

        Allia gave Tarrin a look of light amusement, pulling her cloak around her.  Allia found the battle of wills between Keritanima and Shiika to be very entertaining, especially because, beneath it all, they both respected and liked one another.  The move briefly reminded him of Spyder, the way she let her cloak flow around her, until it settled down to cover and conceal her lithe, splendid form.  If it were a cloak that swallowed all light, and if there were a scar on her left cheek, she would look so much like her.  Allia’s resemblence to Spyder was the solid proof that the Selani were true descendants of the ancient, mysterious Urzani.

        In just a bit, they were all ready.  Elke and Eron had their cloaks on tightly, and they were filing out the door.  “So, I guess we’ll see you in Wikuna,” Tarrin told Shiika as she filed past him, her unnatural scent tickling his nose.  He had such a resistance to it now, it didn’t have the same stomach-churning effect it once had.  It wasn’t pleasant, but he could tune it out well enough to where it wouldn’t bother him.  She was smaller than him, but the tips of her wings were over his head.  Seeing those wings gave him another brief flash, seeing wings.

        Wings of…fire.

        He closed his eyes, pinching his nose with two fingers as the image passed by him.  Wings of fire…he remembered Jasana’s description of him when he’d used the Firestaff.  It sounded majestic.  He saw an image of them, an image of himself, his fur and hair turned to flame, wings of fire spread out behind him, eyes shimmering green in an expression not of fury, but of resolve, his black sword’s blade burning with bright fire as he lifted it over his head in the face of infathomable darkness….

        A memory in the Weave, touching him.  That hadn’t happened unbidden in quite a while.  It was an image of him during his extremely brief moments as a god, one of the countless memories that was trapped and echoed endlessly within the matrix of the Weave.  When he was younger, they would touch him on their own, giving him flashes of insight, teaching him magic in times of great desperation to protect himself.  But now, now that he was so in touch with the Weave, they didn’t drift to him nearly as much as they used to.  They were all there, waiting for him to seek them out, but rarely did they come to him of their own volition anymore.  Maybe seeing Shiika’s wings triggered a desire in him to know what he’d once looked like with wings himself, and the Weave responded to that subconscious desire.

        What it was like to be able to fly without any kind of help from an Air spell or an Elemental.  That was certainly a nice memory, even if it was surrounded by such destruction and horror.

        “Are you well, deshida?” Allia asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

        “Fine, fine,” he told her, waving his paw negligently.  “Just remembering something, that’s all.”

        They closed the door, and Tarrin wove a Ward over the house to keep the chill out of it for six days, and protect it from roving scavengers.  “What were you remembering?” she asked as they followed after his parents.

        “It was an image in the Weave, about how I looked like--” he started, then glanced at Shiika’s back.  “What I looked like then.”

        “You’ve never seen it?”

        He shook his head.  “I’m very careful never to think about that, sister,” he told her seriously.  “The less I know, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

        “Why?”

        He gave her a direct, very serious look.  “Because it’s not something that a mortal was ever meant to know.”

        She pursed her sultry lips in thought, then slowly nodded.  “I, I think I understand, deshida.  You’re very wise to understand that.”

        Tarrin noticed Shiika’s glance back at him, and the hint of a smile on her face.  He knew she could understand every word they said; an aspect of a Demon’s power was the ability to understand all languages, and reply in kind.  Just as Shiika appeared to others as what they thought was most attractive, so her voice carried words that the listener would understand, no matter what language she actually spoke.  She never really had to speak at all, for she and her Alu daughters were all telepathic, capable of speaking only with their minds.

        It wasn’t secret information, but it was personal information.  Giving a Demon personal information was never a good thing.  Tarrin made a mental note to himself to keep an eye on Shiika.

        Shiika excused herself and disappeared as they reached the arch, and then the rest of them returned to the house.  Things were a bit hectic as Kimmie and Jula struggled to dress Tara in warm clothes, and Jasana was sitting at the kitchen table making fun of her for being so silly.  Rina was waiting by the fireplace with a Duthak primer in her little paws, a book they gave to children to teach them how to read and expand their vocabulary.  It was made out of thin stone leaves, bound with rings made of a strange metal that was resistant to the march of time.  Many Dwarven artifacts were made of stone or metal, a symbol of their great love of metalsmithing and stonework.  It was but one of the thousands of books, artifacts, and curiosities Tarrin had down in his library, the items the gallant Dwarves left behind.  Rina thought that the carved illustrations were funny, for they were of Dwarves, and Dwarves looked nothing like humans at all.  They were short, heavily built creatures with wide faces and features, and almost all adults had beards.  Even the females, a racial quirk he’d not seen in any other race.

        “Would you hold still!” Kimmie barked at Tara in impatience as she pulled a heavy tunic over her head.  “It’s going to be cold in Suld, silly!  You’re going to need this!”

        “Papa’s not wearing one, and neither is Jassy and Jules,” she declared as she struggled out of the tunic even as Kimmie struggled to put her into it, using the affectionate altered forms that the twins called Jasana and Jula.

        “Your father and sister and me know magic that keeps us warm,” Jula told her.  “But you need a tunic, so stop squirming.”

        Tara wasn’t quite ready to understand that since the three of them were Weavespinners, they could use a trick of the Weave to keep them warm.  It involved letting the power of the Weave flow through them, which brought the heat of the power of the Weave, the heat that crossing over to become sui’kun and da’shar had changed them to protect against.  By simply letting the Weave flow through them strongly, they could even generate enough heat to be felt by those around them.

        “I wanna learn that,” Tara snapped as she stopped struggling and let her mother settle the tunic over her shoulders, smoothing it with her paws.

        “Someday you just might,” Tarrin told her absently as she looked to his parents.  “I think we’re ready.  Are you?”
        “I do believe we are, lad,” Eron nodded.  “Your mother wouldn’t have let us leave home if we weren’t.”

        “It’s about time,” Jesmind said impatiently.  “Let’s go!”

        Tarrin nodded, and Jasana and Rina rushed over to the others, gathering together so they could be Teleported to their destination.  They’d done it many times before, and knew what was required.

        “Want me to do it, father?” Jula asked.

        He shook his head, and looked down at Jasana.

        “Me?  I get to take us?” she said with sudden excitement.  Jasana knew the spell, but was absolutely forbidden from using Teleportation.  Not to protect her from harm, but to keep her from jumping all over the world and force a very put-out father to track her tail down and drag her home at the behest of an extremely ticked off mother.  Tarrin taught her the spell for her own protection, as a last-ditch means of escape from a dangerous situation, and to her credit, Jasana had never used the spell without her father’s explicit permission.

        “Think you can handle Teleporting us all, cub?” he asked her.

        “Can I!” she said with a squeal of delight, clapping her paws together.  “Alright, gather in, everyone!” she commanded in a suddenly bossy tone.

        “Is this a good idea, son?” Elke asked in Ungardt, and hers wasn‘t the only speculative look as they all gathered into a tight group..

        “She can handle it, mother.  Besides, it’s good practice.”  He addressed Jasana.  “You know where to land us?”

        “Right in front of the blue rose bush in the courtyard,” she replied.  “Where you had the tent.”

        Tarrin nodded.  “Go ahead.”

        She clapped her paws again and set her will against the Weave.  Tarrin felt her weave the spell, sending the flows around them, causing the flows to surround them, and then weave loosely together into the spell that would send them to Suld, as fingers of the spell reached across Sulasia to envelop the area which was the second half of the spell.  With a little flair, Jasana snapped it down and released it, and then what was within was exchanged with the space in the courtyard, which was the target of the spell.

        In an instant, they ceased being in the common room of his beloved house, and they were standing out in the biting cold, as a light, misty rain drifted down from the dark, heavy skies.  Six Were-cats, three humans, two Selani, and one drake looked around and found themselves in the courtyard of the Goddess, where her fountain continued to bubble merrily with water and her gorgeous white stone statue stood atop it with an expression of loving benediction, between the hedge wall and the big blue rose bush to the right side of the icon which was the Goddess’ physical representation in the material world.

        All of them except one.

        It was more than a sense now, it was a presence, a dark, foreboding feeling that assaulted Tarrin’s awareness the instant they appeared in the courtyard.   While everyone else was looking around and getting their bearings, Tarrin’s eyes were locked to the east-southeast.  That sense of something being wrong roared into his mind again, stronger than ever before, and that heavy, sinister sense of presence he had felt upon arriving at Suld was its cause.

        “Tarrin--Tarrin?” Jesmind started, then cut off and asked in confusion as the towering Were-cat seemed oblivious to all around him, peering off into the distance like none of them were even there.

        He had no idea what it was that was out there, but there was one thing of which he had no doubt.

        From it emanated a sense of utter, unmitigated hatred.  And that hatred was fixed upon him.

        Brushing Jasana out of the way, knocking Fireflash off his shoulder, Tarrin took a single step in the direction of that sensation, and felt it increase.  He simply knew that whatever it was knew he was in Suld, and in a way that hatred was challenging, inviting, beckoning him, much as Spyder’s haunting calls had beckoned him to her.

        It was a challenge that he was unable to ignore.

        “Tarrin!” Jesmind cried as Jasana gasped and scrambled out of the way as Tarrin broke into an instant sprint, and then started running on thin air to get up and above the level of the hedge walls.

        What got into him?  Jesmind picked Jasana up off the ground as they all watched Tarrin disappear over the hedge wall, all of them in something of a state of shock and confusion.  He’d never acted like this before!  It was like they weren’t even there!  The look in his eyes had been so strange, and then she saw anger in them just before he dashed off to the trees knew where!

        “Tarrin!” Elke shouted.  “You get your tail back here right now!”

        Jasana was about to say something, then she sucked in her breath and clenched her paws into tight little fists.

        No! the voice of the Goddess seemed to lash out at them like a whip, causing everyone in the courtyard to instantly freeze.  You stay put, young lady!

        “I can’t--I have to--” Jasana started, but the Goddess cut her off.

        You will do nothing! she snapped.

        “What is going on?” Dolanna demanded as they all looked at Jasana.

        Her eyes were tortured, such a haunted, pained look in them that it cut Jesmind to the quick to think that her treasured cub would ever feel such hurt.  “There’s something coming,” she said.  “Something terrible!  And they’re both coming too because of it!”

        “What?  What’s coming, cub?” Jesmind said with dreadful intensity, putting her paws on Jasana’s shoulders.

        “Who is coming, child?” Dolanna asked quickly.

        Jasana gave Dolanna a horrified, almost mindlessly stricken look, then blurted out but one word, a word that made every soul in the courtyard go cold.

        Even the soul of the Goddess.

        “Death!”

        He’d felt this before.

        He was sure of it.  As he cleared the fence of the Tower and sprinted out into the cold rain, he was certain that he had felt this particular feeling before, but he couldn’t remember where.  It seemed something that he shouldn’t forget, but it was possible it was something he experienced in the throes of a rage, and as such it made his memory of its feeling hazy and indistinct.  But he was certain he had felt this feeling before, had felt this same kind of pure hatred aimed at him, so strong it had attracted his attention and sent him off to find the source of it.

        He could feel its evil.  This was a dark and destructive power, and the core of his being cried out against it.  This was something to meet and destroy, and he had reacted with the primal need to carry this out before he even understood what he was feeling.

        It was moving towards him very quickly now, as quickly as he moved towards it, and he brought forth his staff and Summoned the Cat’s Claws while on the move, causing them to appear around his wrists.  He would not meet this dark hating power unprepared.

        Hatred.  There was little hatred in him towards it, only a sense of need to meet and destroy it.  He didn’t even know what it was quite yet, he could only sense that it was somewhere directly before him, and moving towards him with great speed.  Its hatred didn’t cause him to respond with hatred, only with resolve, almost as if it were his duty to meet this force which hated him so and vanquish it.  There was a little curiosity involved, that was certain, curiosity over what this power could be, and why it hated him as much as it did, and why he couldn’t quite remember where he had felt this feeling before, and why it caused him to react as it had.  Finding it would hopefully answer those questions, satisfy his curiosity, at least before he did what he felt he had to do…defeat this power.

        It was what he must do.

        The streets were crowded with the citizens of Suld as they made their way to and from their engagements, but the passing of the Were-cat caused a near-riot of outrage and chaos as he passed by, avoiding when he could, but more often than not bulling his way through the throngs on the Street of Gold, which seemed to be the direct path to take to find this strange power which beckoned to him with its terrible anger and hatred.  Shouts of surprise and anger followed him as he rammed his way down the street, sweeping the much smaller humans out of his way as he barreled headlong towards the object that had incited such a strange reaction out of him, until he could sense it just outside of his vision.  He slowed to a stop and rose up to his full height, towering over all around him and able to see as far down the avenue as he wished, as there were no carts or wagons between him and the sense of presence that he was feeling.

        The people around him seemed to understand that something was very wrong, and he heard a sudden chorus of shouts of fear from up ahead.  The people before him started scrambling away, rushing into buildings, down alleys and side streets, anything to get of the Street of Gold and out of harm’s way, almost as if they sensed the impending danger.  They scattered like frightened rabbits for a long moment, until the street was completely clear between him and the presence he sensed, who was standing about a block and half away from him.

        It was a figure in a suit of old, archaic armor and wielding a double-edged broadsword in his right hand and a shield in the shape of a lion‘s head strapped to his left arm.  The helmet was an old burgonet style but with a full face visor, which hid the features from his view.  It was a tall and imposing figure, and now that he could see it, he could clearly feel the aura of intense magical power which surrounded this strange armored foe, he could see it, a projected dome of magic that surrounded the figure within that was invisible to any eyes but those of a Weavespinner.

        Without knowing quite how, he simply knew that this was the elusive and formidable Stragos Bane.  And it was from Bane that he was feeling the purity of hatred and anger which defined the sense of him.  But why did Bane hate him so?  He’d never met the man before.  It was an answer to the question, but the answer itself led to even more questions.

        Quickly, Tarrin took mental stock of all he had heard about this man.  He owned armor that was bane to Were-kin, though he didn’t know the specifics, and his gloves could unleash either gouts of fire or pale beams of intense cold.  Neither was any particular threat to him.  He also had some kind of device that made it impossible for a Demon to get within ten spans of him, which was the dome he was seeing, and he had magic about him that, according to the Druids, nullified any hostile magical force directed at him.  But that might be because he was undead, so he wasn’t sure about that quite yet.  The easiest way to find out was simply to advance and catch its scent.  If it had that grave-miasma that clung to Wraiths and Doomwalkers, the only undead Tarrin had faced, then he was undead, and thus immune to Druidic power.  If he wasn’t, then he really did have some kind of powerful magic about him that nullified other magic.  Either way, he just had to get closer to find out.

        Answers might have to wait, or even never come.  Stragos Bane had killed quite a few Were-kin, and for that, he had to pay.  Tarrin’s duty as a Druid meant that here, now, Bane had to be stopped.

        Stragos Bane was going to die.

        “Stragos Bane,” Tarrin called in a flat voice, his ears laying back.

        “I have waited for this day for years, Were-cat,” Stragos Bane answered in a dead, hungry voice, a cold voice that emanated from the heavy helmet, a voice that chilled Tarrin‘s soul for its lack of humanity, as he started slowly moving forward.  “Now I‘m strong enough to face you, I have what I need to defeat you.  Now, you will die!”

        That last word turned into an infuriated scream as the armored man charged forward, sword high, racing across the wet cobblestones to do battle.

        Terrified squeals of the last few humans still on the street drowned out the sound of Bane’s armored boots striking the cobblestones as he rushed headlong into death, as Tarrin bounded a couple of times, and then was running with swift, graceful speed at Bane, staff out to the side of him and low, only to snap forward to be couched like a lance as they neared one another, using its superior reach to let him get the first blow.  Tarrin’s long legs closed the distance with Bane in seconds, and he lunged as he got within twenty spans to set the staff to hit Bane squarely in the chest.  Twenty, fifteen spans, ten spans--

        --and the instant he got within that dome of magic which emanated from the armored warrior, Tarrin felt a strange coldness, a weakness, seep into him, attacking his link to the Druidic magic which partly granted him his inhuman capabilities.  It was more than just some mystical circle of protection from Demons!

        Stupid stupid stupid! Tarrin chided himself savagely as he saw Bane twist aside with shocking, almost inhuman speed, slithering out of the way of the point of his staff and thrusting with his sword to spit the Were-cat on his broadsword.  Tarrin spun aside before the tip reached him and continued on, quickly getting out of the circle of magic projected from the armored warrior and sliding to a stop as Bane did the same.  He was being stupid!  He was a sui’kun, for the Goddess’ sake!  He should have assensed Stragos Bane from the start so he’d have an exact idea of what he was dealing with!  But no, he had to be stupid and just charge in like a green recruit.  If Darvon or Allia were there, they would have boxed him upside the head for his ridiculous lapse in judgement.

        Reaching out with his other senses, Tarrin tried to look into the magic surrounding Stragos Bane, as he skidded to a halt and turned around, but sensed nothing.

        Surprised, his ears rising up, he sent probing flows of Divine into that magical field to try to puzzle them out, but when they struck the edge of that barrier, they were turned aside.

        Tarrin narrowed his eyes, tightened his grip on his staff.  It was some kind of magical effect that nullified magic, but only hostile magic.  Stragos Bane could use his own magical weapons and equipment, but nothing that came from outside would pass beyond that boundary.  That was what repelled Shun!  Shun was an Alu, a halfblood Demon, and her intense personal magic was so great that the circle of protection prevented her from passing through!  But Tarrin, whose personal magic was much weaker and indirect, could breach that barrier, only to have that magic assaulted by the magic of the field when he was inside, trying to nullify it.

        But it had never been put to the test against the power of a sui’kun.

        Opening himself up to the Weave, he allowed the might of High Sorcery to fill him, causing his paws to glow with Magelight.  He wove together a weave of Air, Fire, Water, and Divine flows, with token flows of the other spheres to give the weave the power of High Sorcery, and then unleashed it at Stragos Bane.  An incandescent bolt of intense magical power blasted from his open paw.  It ripped through the air directly at Bane, who raised his shield as if to deflect the power of the attack.

        It struck the edge of the mystical boundary which protected the armored warrior, and then simply stopped.  Bane fixed him with an unholy, chilling smile visible through the grill of his visor, seemingly satisfied at the success of a power that he wasn’t entirely sure was going to work.  But now that he was sure, he turned and charged back at Tarrin once more with wild abandon.

        Don’t waste your time! the Goddess’ voice touched him, and it was afraid.  He uses an item of ancient power, kitten.  Your magic can’t breach it!

        “Oh great!” he snapped aloud as Bane charged back in.  Tarrin set his staff in an end-grip and braced himself as he passed within the circle which surrounded Bane and felt that same weakness, that same attack against the magic which granted him his powers, raising his staff to defend against the sword which lanced right at his head.  Sword met staff in a thok, and the Were-cat’s arms almost buckled from the tremendous strength behind that blow, but he turned the sword away, safely to the side, and quickly reversed his motion and slammed the section of staff held between his two paws into Bane’s helmet.  The blow was off balance, but even with Bane’s magic sapping his strength, the blow still carried enough force to kill a human.  Bane’s head snapped back and he was swept off his feet, landing on the wet cobblestones in a loud clatter.  Tarrin took up his staff and smashed it down quickly, feeling his strength ebb with every beat of his heart, trying to finish his opponent as quickly as possible, not counting on the lethal force of the blow to think that he’d already killed his opponent.

        That turned out to be a wise decision.  Bane whipped his shield up just in time to catch the sword, impacting with a loud clang, like the ringing of a broken bell, then kicked out with his leg, just managing to brush his sollaret up against Tarrin’s ankle.  That caused a white-hot lance of pain to jag through his entire leg, and there was a bright blue-white flash in that contact.  Tarrin almost lost feeling and control of his leg, staggering back quickly as his mind reeled from the unexpected pain of that most glancing of blows.  It was almost like that evil pain-giving sword Jegojah had used against him!

        Tarrin staggered back out of range of anything Bane could use to touch him, hobbling as a mad tingling rushed through his leg.  Tarrin could smell ozone in the air, and he realized quickly what had hurt him.  It wasn’t any kind of special magic that worked against Were-kin, like Haley thought!  It was lightning!  Bane’s armor was charged with magical lightning, and in every touch it discharged into him!  It hadn’t zapped him when he slammed his staff into Bane’s face because it was made of wood, and wood wouldn’t conduct the lightning.

        Lightning, one of the few magical methods of attack against which Tarrin had no inherent resistance!

        Bane laughed evilly as he quickly rolled to his feet, as Tarrin shook his leg to get the numbness out of it, and he understood.  Bane knew Tarrin, knew him well, and had carefully prepared defenses to eliminate his magic, weaken his overwhelming strength, and make it very dangerous to lay an unprotected paw on him.  The only weapon he had was his staff, the one weapon he could use against Bane without any painful backlash.

        Which suited Tarrin just fine.  So long as he had one weapon to use against Bane, he was more than willing to pit his skill against Bane’s skill, which, so far, had not impressed Tarrin all that much.  He showed he was much quicker than he looked, but he was not stronger than Tarrin, even with Bane’s magic weakening him as it had.  All that exercise Triana put him through looked like it was going to actually have some use after all.  Hunkering down, putting his staff in the center-grip, he waggled the end of his tail at Bane tauntingly, daring him to attack.

        The first few exchanges of blows taught Tarrin much.  Bane was not a green recruit.  Emotion had caused his first two charges to be wild, reckless, but now that Tarrin showed he was more than willing to stay inside Bane’s weakening circle and take him on, he was much more careful.  Hate still burned within his colorless eyes, but it was a hate tinged with a wary respect for a very formidable opponent.  Bane’s double-edged broadsword weaved expertly as it probed Tarrin’s defenses, but it found no hole to exploit.  Bane also learned that Tarrin’s act of hunkering down let him use his exceptionally long arms as a cushion, keeping Bane from getting that dangerous armor anywhere near him.  The Were-cat didn’t let Bane crowd him, more than willing to give ground every time he pressed in, keeping a cushion of protection between him and that armor as he studied Bane’s form and looked for a hole.  There were few to exploit, however, as Bane showed some exceptional skill in handling his sword and shield, never over-extending, his shield always presenting the best angle to the end of Tarrin’s staff, feet always moving, always in the best position to press an advantage or pull back from a disadvantage.  He had little trouble dealing with Tarrin’s strength advantage and his height advantage, which did not surprise the Were-cat, as he’d fought Azakar and survived to face Tarrin now.  Azakar had many of Tarrin’s unique aspects as well; strength, great height, and exceptional skill.  In a way, fighting Azakar had been a good preparation for facing Tarrin.

        Satisfied at Bane’s skill, Tarrin settled into a fully defensive position, swatting aside the sword every time it reached towards him but not initiating any attacks at all.  He kept at it for long moments, evading blows with his agility, blocking Bane’s sword, and absolutely not letting any part of Bane’s armor to get within two spans of his body at any time, even if it meant giving ground.  Bane backed him up nearly a block and tried to back Tarrin up against a wall, but the Were-cat kept himself squarely in the middle of the street, weaving to and fro to keep the armored warrior from blocking his escape away from the walls.  Tarrin’s tactics seemed to confuse Bane, who redoubled his efforts to press the Were-cat into a position where his armor could come into play, but the Were-cat showed surprising patience and discipline in sticking with his plan, keeping on the defensive and not giving Bane any chance to get close enough to touch him with that armor, waiting him out.

        Bane seemed to get impatient, which only made Tarrin inwardly content as he settled even more into a defensive position.  He’d been trained to outlast an opponent, fluster him, and then take advantage of the mistakes he made when he got angry.  Bane seemed to have a volatile temper, and Tarrin knew it was only a matter of time before his hate got the best of him and he made a foolish mistake.  Tarrin refused to spar or fence with the armored warrior, backing up and backing up and backing up, deflecting or evading blows from Bane’s sword and refusing to retaliate, waiting patiently for his chance to strike.  “What’s the matter, Bane?” Tarrin taunted in a low, mocking voice as he swatted aside several shallow slashes at his left flank.  “Having trouble?  Or maybe you’re not as prepared as you thought you were, eh?”

        That got him.  With a howl of fury, Bane hacked wildly at the Were-cat, his broadsword whistling through the air as it tried again and again to find Tarrin’s flesh, to bite him, but it was thwarted time and time again.  Tarrin blocked another wild series of slashes and stabs as Bane rushed in heavily, and that was what Tarrin was waiting for.  With viper-like speed, he whipped one end of his staff up and under Bane’s sword, knocking it very high, then spun into the movement before Bane could recover, sliding the staff down into an end-grip as he came around, which did so so quickly that it was nothing but a blur.  Bane hastily raised his shield to defend against that crushing blow and tried to stop his forward movement, but the staff arced down.  Bane gave out a startled cry as the Were-cat danced to the side even as his staff smashed into Bane’s left shin, knocking his leg backward even as the rest of him moved forward, causing him to pitch face first to the cobblestones.  Armor squealed against stone as he slid about two spans on the wet street.

        In a quick motion, Tarrin bounded back several spans, out of the circle of magical protection Bane projected, and felt his magically augmented strength return.  He had to move quickly, before Bane could get up, before he could see what was coming.  He took his right paw off his staff and Conjured a Wikuni cannonball, making it appear in his paw, then stepped up and launched it at the back of Bane’s helmet with every tiny bit of the inhuman strength he possessed.

        Bane’s protection may rob Tarrin of his strength inside the circle, but it would do nothing against a cannonball thrown from his paw from outside, with enough force to knock his head clean off his body.

        Bane was in the middle of getting off the ground when the cannonball struck him squarely in the back of his helmet.  The helmet went flying as Bane’s body was slammed forward, crumpling to the cobblestones as the cannonball continued in the path in which Tarrin had unleashed it, striking and going through the wall behind the fallen warrior.  Tarrin was in the middle of recovering from his throw when the helmet smacked against the same whitewashed wall of the building the cannonball had pierced, rebounding with a musical clang before clattering to a stop on the street, the entire back half of it caved in.

        A sound that could not have been made if Bane’s head was still in that helmet.

        Tarrin backed up a few steps in surprise when Bane began to move.  That was impossible!  Tarrin had hit him dead-on with a cannonball, and had thrown it hard enough to kill a Giant!  But Bane was indeed moving, was still alive, as he rose up onto his hands and knees, then quickly regained his feet.  The back of Bane’s shaved, pale head showed no blood, no signs of injury at all.

        Tarrin’s shock turned into sincere fear when he took a moment to test his surroundings with his nose and realized, for the first time, that Stragos Bane had no scent.

        None.  There was no smell about him at all, only the smell of his armor and weapons.  There was no human smell inside that armor, no smell of anything whatsoever.  To Tarrin’s nose, it was as if Stragos Bane did not exist.

        Was that how he managed to ambush so many Were-kin?  Did he have magic about him that made it so he had no smell?  Goddess, how many tricks did this man have, to have no smell and survive a blow that would have killed anything but a Demon?

        Bane turned around, and Tarrin backed up two more steps in horror at the man’s face.  His eyes, which had been colorless before, were now nothing but pure, deep, featureless black.  His face looked average enough, for he was a plain, broad-featured fellow, but the black eyes, like a Vendari’s eyes, chilled Tarrin to the bone as he gazed upon them.   Bane fixed him with a hideous grin, a dreadful rictus like a man gone mad, and then banged his sword against his shield.  In that strike, the eyes of the lion on his shield face erupted into a reddish glow, and that same glow limned over the blade of his sword.  Bane was going to use his magic now, and Tarrin was still chagrined from the fact that Bane had survived that cannonball!

        Indirectly, indirectly!  Tarrin realized, in just a bit of a mild panic, that he couldn’t attack Bane with magic, but it wouldn’t protect him from indirect use of magic!  Haley had done it, so could he!  Reaching within, through the Cat, Tarrin used the simplest and most common ability a Druid had, the ability to Conjure.  He caused to come into being a massive cube of solid rock, ten spans to a side, and had it appear fifteen spans over Bane’s bald, undamaged head.  It simply wavered into existence, and then gravity took hold of it, causing it to plummet directly down onto Bane’s uncovered head.  Bane collapsed into himself as the massive cube of rock crushed him, slamming into the ground with a loud boom and a spraying of shattered cobblestones and dust.

        Tarrin backed up several more steps, frightened and out of sorts, hoping wildly that the rock had killed him when the cannonball hadn’t, but too worried to depend on it.  That cannonball should have killed him, but it did not, so he wasn’t going to assume that the rock would do the job until he saw a dead body.

        The dust settled, and the cube of rock was still sitting there, burrowed down into the street.  Tarrin saw no hands, no limbs sticking out from under it, but there was also no sign of Bane.  He advanced a few steps, but then recoiled when he felt the edge of that circle of protection which surrounded the armored warrior.  That was still working!

        In a sudden explosion of flying rock, the cube of rock exploded, spraying the street with smoking shrapnel.  Tarrin flinched away and almost instinctively used a weave of Air to shield him from the deadly storm of flying debris, then felt his weave disrupt as the circle of protection touched it, moving towards him.

        Moving towards him!

        Bane appeared out of the cloud of dust quickly, sword and the eyes of his shield face still glowing red, and both held at the ready as he rushed at the startled Were-cat.  Tarrin’s magical strengh bled away quickly when he was again within the circle, but his training caused him to overcome his surprise and raise his staff in an end-grip, and used it to smack the sword wide as Bane advanced on him.  Bane engaged a series of complicated and clever thrusts and deep slashes with his sword, which Tarrin parried effectively as he tried to back up, give ground, try to recollect himself and come back at the dangerous warrior with a new plan.  The fact that he was even alive at all was almost stunning to the Were-cat.  How had he survived that cannonball?  How did he survive the rock, and how did he destroy it?  With the circle of protection isolating him, Tarrin could sense no use of magic at all, and that put him out of sorts just as much as Bane’s survival did.

        A strange smell touched Tarrin’s nose as he backed up wildly, feet moving over loose cobblestones and the remains of his killing rock, fending off Bane’s weapon with a measured skill that belied his frenzied mental state.  Bane continued to advance as fast as Tarrin backed away, rearing his sword back behind his side and then thrusting up at Tarrin’s middle.  Tarrin swept his staff down and to the side to parry the blow, but his staff suddenly felt strange, and he sensed that the sword had not been deflected.  He twisted aside wildly as the faint sound of wood clattering on stone touched his ears, and felt the sword slice just across his side, right under his ribcage.   Along with it came an instantaneous savage burning, a fire he had never felt before, just as intense as the magical sword that Jegojah had used against him, the one that amplified pain.  He let out a startled, painful yowl and dove to the side, then used all four limbs to scamper away from Bane, running on all fours faster than any man could ever run, putting precious distance between himself and his surprising adversary.  He felt himself get outside the circle that surrounded Bane and instantly assensed his side, tried to figure out why it burned.

        His probes of Divine told him all he needed to know.  It was acid.

        Tarrin flowed back onto his feet and held up his staff, and saw that that was where the smell had been coming from.  Every time he used it to parry or block, he’d been bringing it into contact with a weapon that was leaving acid behind.  The staff was in two pieces, burned in half by the magical acid surrounding the sword in Bane’s gauntleted hand.  Smoke wafted up from the entire length of the piece he had in his paws, and it ended in a blackened stump where it had been joined seconds before.

        With that one trick, Bane had robbed Tarrin of the only weapon he could use.  He couldn’t use his sword or the Cat’s Claws, for their metal would conduct the lightning charged in Bane’s armor.  He could back away and Conjure a suitable replacement staff, but it wouldn’t last long, being steadily eaten away by the magic of Bane’s weapon.

        “What’s the matter, Were-cat?” Bane asked in a chilling, mocking tone as he advanced slowly, almost leisurely, confident in his advantage.  “Having trouble?  Or am I more than you expected, eh?”

        Tarrin’s ears laid back flat, and his eyes exploded from within with the green radiance that marked his anger.  He roared savagely at Bane.

        “I know your tricks, Were-cat,” he laughed coldly.  “It’s nothing but a show to surprise me while you think up something to save your miserable life.  But there’s no escape this time,” he said with sudden cold fury.  “Now, you die.”

        Tarrin sprinted right at the warrior, who stopped in sudden surrpise that the Were-cat was actually crazy enough to attack him.  But Tarrin sprinted right at him, paw out as if holding something, which caused Bane to prepare for some possible attack, even as he smiled with a dreadful hunger that the Were-cat would be insane enough to charge headlong into death.  Just before crossing the circle of protection, Tarrin brought forth an object from the elsewhere, the only weapon he had left, the only object he felt would be able to stand up to that acidic blade without conducting the lightning charged within Bane’s armor.

        “No!” Bane shrieked in horror when a black staff appeared in Tarrin’s paw, quickly taken up into the end-grip as the Were-cat blazed through the circle of protection, weapon brandished and ready.

        It was the Firestaff.

        Bane had obviously never conceived of the idea that Tarrin actually carried it around with him at all times, but the Were-cat took his duty as its guardian quite seriously.  Its black, stone-like length was not metal, and so Tarrin hoped that it wouldn’t shock him if it hit Bane’s armor.  And since it was all but indestructible, Bane’s acidic magic would have no effect on it at all.

        Like a dark force of furious destruction, Tarrin leapt into the air and seemed to hover over the armored warrior with the Firestaff coiled over his head, whose black-black eyes betrayed no emotion, but whose expression was one of chagrin and sincere terror.  He barely managed to get his sword up as Tarrin smashed the Firestaff down on him with speed-augmented power.  Bane’s sword met the Firestaff with a clear metallic chime, but the power behind the blow, as Tarrin dropped on his smaller foe, knocked Bane’s arm down across his body and spun him halfway around so Bane’s armored back was to him.  Tarrin swept past the armored warrior, carrying through with his momentum, then turned quickly to stay behind Bane as he turned himself.  Tarrin recovered the Firestaff and whipped it around, but Bane somehow managed to get his shield around to catch the weapon.  The impact jarred him a bit more to the side, giving Tarrin an opening.  He reared the Firestaff back again and smashed it into Bane’s armored side, half-braced for the possibility that he was about to get a nasty shock.

        But none came.  The staff slammed into Bane’s side with enough power to buckle him around the black shaft, as he swatted weakly at the staff with the rim of his shield.  Tarrin reared back and swung again, but Bane managed to twist around enough to block it with his lion-head shield, then the tip of his sword came lancing in with his turn, aimed right at Tarrin’s face.  The red-glowing weapon arced by just fingers from Tarrin’s cheek as the Were-cat slid around the thrust, then ducked under as the armored warrior tried to slash it across, into the path of his evasion.  With a lightning-fast movement, Tarrin grabbed the hand holding that sword as it went over his head, artfully and carefully done so no part of his paw touched the metal arm guards that ended just above his wrist, touching only the gauntlets.  With a vast circular motion, Tarrin wrenched Bane’s arm in a wide vertical circle, going down and then up, twisting in its socket and forcing the armored warrior to pitch head over heels to avoid getting his arm ripped out of its socket.  Bane did so, tumbling onto his back and losing his sword, but he lashed out with his leg the instant his back hit the shattered cobblestones.  Tarrin simply jumped over that foot, using his grip on Bane’s arm as a fulcrum to get his legs out of harm’s way.  He pushed off from Bane’s sword arm and then brought up the Firestaff in an end-grip before his feet even touched the ground, and then brought it down in a vast over handed chop aimed right at Bane’s neck.  Bane, who already had a leg out and up, and using the momentum introduced by Tarrin’s push, managed to get the sole of his sollaret up and in the path of the staff, which deflected it just high enough that the tip of the Firestaff slammed into the loose cobblestones but a hair‘s breadth over Bane‘s head.  There was a loud clang as staff struck armor-shod boot.  It jarred Bane to the side, and he rolled with it, over his own shield and losing it in the process, to get himself away as the Were-cat recovered from having his blow deflected.  Tarrin rushed after the armored warrior to press the attack, but found himself diving to the side when a blast of pale blue light emanated from Bane’s empty hand.  That blue light sizzled past him, catching the tail end of his braid and instantly frosting it over, then struck a gray stone building with large windows that displayed a variety of pewter goods, riming the gray stone with frost.

        That was close.  Within Bane’s circle of protection, he was protected from heat and fire, but not from cold.  He needed to be able to touch the Weave to protect himself from cold, and that was something he could not do within Bane’s area of anti-magic.

        Tarrin’s momentary surprise caused him to be taken off guard when Bane lunged at him with those empty hands open and leading, a dreadful look of sudden elated glory all over his face.  Tarrin raised the Firestaff to protect himself, but to his shock, it was the Firestaff that was Bane’s target, not him.  Bane grabbed hold of it with both hands, a good solid grip, and then tried to rip it out of his paws.

        Tarrin immediately understood the danger.  He rose up and pushed down on the staff, using his height advantage as a lever, locking both of Bane’s feet onto the ground to keep him from kicking, keep him from touching him with that deadly armor.  Tarrin pushed down with all his might, rocked Bane back and forth, and the two of them staggered along the street like two children fighting over a single toy, neither willing to let it go.

        “Now you will die!” Bane said hysterically, glaring up at him with those empty, utterly black eyes.  “Now the power I need is in my hands!  Now you will face your worst nightmare!”

        At those words, the Firestaff started to glow.

        Shock almost making him let go of the artifact, Tarrin nearly lost his grip on it as he felt power rise up within the ancient device, power that felt warm and inviting under his paws.  Tarrin felt the power of the Firestaff, a power it could bring forth into the world at any time, and he felt Bane trying to draw it in.

        Lightning and magical streamers of light suddenly burst from the Firestaff, as Tarrin felt Bane somehow make a connection to it, start to drink in its power.  He gaped at the armored warrior in awe and consternation, then realized that if he didn’t do something and do it fast, he was going to be in very big trouble.  He didn’t understand how Bane was drawing power from the Firestaff, but he had to stop it, and stop it now.

        But it was as if the magic of the Firestaff was granting Bane inhuman strength.  Tarrin went from being the controller to hanging on to the staff for dear life as Bane whipped it to and fro, trying to dislodge the Were-cat, who just barely managed to keep a grip on it despite being swung around erratically.  Lances of lightning and glowing tendrils of raw magical power continued to issue forth from the Firestaff, bathing both combatants in its eerie glow.

        Laughing maniacally, Bane twisted himself and then recoiled violently, which caused Tarrin to lose his grip.  He was sent flying to one side, landing heavily on his back, skidding a few spans before coming to a stop.  The light and energy of the Firestaff exploded from within it, and instead of flying around randomly, it was flowing around and into  Bane’s body, which began to glow with a strange reddish light.  “Fool, you granted me the one thing I needed to beat you!” Bane shrieked in hysterical glee, holding the Firestaff over his head with both hands, continuing to draw out its power.  “Now my revenge will be complete!  Now you will pay for destroying me!  Now you will join me in the darkness of oblivion, Tarrin Kael!” he screamed triumphantly, just as the Firestaff’s glow stopped.  Bane cast it aside scornfully, letting it clatter to the cobblestones at Tarrin’s feet, again nothing but a black length of what looked like stone.  Bane’s body continued to glow, and to Tarrin’s horror, a blazing irregular line appeared on the top of his head, almost like the cracking of an eggshell.  That brilliant light grew brighter as the split ran across the top of his head and down over his forehead, between his eyes, and then over to the left side of his nose and mouth.  That incandescent light dimmed, and then turned into blackness, like liquid shadow that seeped from the tear in Bane’s body.

        And then Bane’s split fully open, like the opening of the petals of some kind of ghastly flower.

        Liquid shadow boiled from from that grisly opening, pooling above the body of Stragos Bane, growing ever larger and darker and more ominous.  Tarrin watched in mute, stunned awe and horror as the pool of pulsing shadow continued to expand, pouring out of the opening in Bane’s split skull, until only thin wisps of it were left.  The large pool of liquid darkness over Bane’s body seemed to pulsate and flicker, and then it expanded in all directions.  The shape of a body formed within that pool of floating inky blackness, thirty spans tall, like a giant floating form surrounded by a deep, billowed cloak.  A face appeared where a cowled head would be, faint, vague features dominated by a pair of sinister, glowing red eyes.

        Tarrin stared up at the dreadful manisfestation, too stunned to move, to even think.  Never had he ever seen such a thing!  The husk of what had once been Stragos Bane lay crumpled on the street, still in its armor, smoking and seeming to dissolve before Tarrin’s eyes, and the Firestaff, still glowing, still issuing out streamers of magical light, rose up and was engulfed into the apparition‘s inky black form.

        “Face your executioner, Tarrin Kael!” the dark image cried in a voice that made Tarrin’s fur stand on end.  “Know that the hand that destroys you is the same as the one you destroyed!”

        Tarrin, run! the voice of the Goddess screamed in his mind.  Run, run now!

        “Mother!” he gasped as the figure raised a shadowed arm, and then a blast of utter darkness raced from its hand, right at him.  He recovered his wits enough to dive aside, as the blackness struck the street under which he had been standing, and then caused it to explode in a deafening blast of smoke, dust, and shattered masonry.  “What did he become?” he gasped as another bolt of blackness shot at him, which he just barely managed to avoid.  A concussive blast of smoke and stone lifted him off the ground, but he managed to get his feet under him, and hit the street running, racing away from this terrifying nightmare.

        Oh, my kitten, run!  Don’t try to fight him!  You can’t win!

        “What is he?” he cried as he turned up an alley just as another blast of darkness sizzled by, striking the front of someone’s house.   The entire building shuddered, and then exploded violently, sending bits of stone, wood, plaster, and cloth flying for hundreds of spans in every direction.

        Tarrin, that is a creation of Val!  He must have made it before you destroyed him, and now it’s come to take revenge for his destruction!

        His mind reeled from the enormity of that statement.   But that was impossible!  Val was dead, utterly destroyed!  How could this creation remain behind when all vestiges of Val’s power had been literally erased from existence?

        “I hear your every thought, Were-cat!” the inky shadow boomed, a voice heard all over Suld.  “Before you die, know that I am the shadow of Val, created by his hand in the moment of his destruction, and I will avenge myself against you!”

        “I can--”

        NO! the Goddess screamed in his mind.  He is a shadow, a creation, but his power is that of a god, kitten!  No mortal can withstand it!  He is an Avatar, kitten, but an Avatar of a dead god!  But that doesn’t make it any less divine!

        “He can’t do that!” Tarrin protested as he dove wildly to the side as another blast of utter darkness raced up the alley.  It exploded against the ground, sending a plume of smoke high into the sky.

        It can be done, she told him urgently.  Just run!

        He couldn’t believe it.  Val!  Val!  But Val was dead, destroyed years ago!  How could this creation, this shadow, survive the destruction of the god who created it?  Even from the grave, the dead god of darkness still plagued him!  It didn’t make any sense!  How did it survive?  How did it hide as Bane without anyone sensing it?  How could the shadow of a dead god exist when the power of the god that created it was irrevocably destroyed?

        The Firestaff!

        It had drawn power from the Firestaff!  It didn’t rely on the power of Val, it drew its power from other sources!  Of course, that was how Val did it!  It was nothing but a magical creation, a construct, a thing, but Val had created it in such a way that it survived after his own destruction, and so long as it continued to find energy to sustain itself, it could continue to exist!

        That meant that it had only a limited amount of power!  If he could make it use up its reserves, he might be able to weaken it to the point where he could destoy it!  After all, it had left its magical armor and all the protections behind with the husk that had held it.  Tarrin could use magic against it now!

        That won’t work, kitten! the Goddess warned.  No mortal can strike at the power of a god!  You know that!   That shadow may be nothing but a creation, but it has the same protections as a god!  It is a god!

        Tarrin was about to reply, but a blast sent him flying into a wall, then he bounced off and found himself skidding to a stop on a major street, hearing the terrified cries and shouts of those who had been wary about the series of explosions that had gotten closer and closer had reached them, seeing them scatter and run in every direction.  The inky shadow that was the wrath of Val was racing up from behind him, screaming and cursing at him, and the sight of it triggered a sudden cold fury inside of him.  It may have the protections of a god, but Tarrin had faced up to stronger gods than that, and had not backed down.  With a savage roar, Tarrin opened himself completely to his power, and the full and total might of the Weave rushed into him like an avalanche, causing the Sorcerer’s Star to form around him, lifting off the ground with its power.  The Goddess pleaded with him to run, to flee, but he tuned her out and prepared when another of those black blasts of power rushed at him.  He reared his arm back, and then slashed it across his body in a backhanded motion as the leading edge of it reached him, focusing all his power into turning that power aside, away from him.

        It was like getting hit with a Giant’s hammer.  The full force of the shadow’s divine might struck him, but pure stubborn fury would not allow him to yield.  He felt a sudden angry burning through his whole body as he pushed against that power with his own, pushing it to the side, pushing it away, deflecting it, until it changed direction and was sent flying into a building beside him, which instantly exploded in a furious cloud of dust and debris which concealed the shadow of Val from his sight.  But he could sense it, feel its dark, cold power push against the Weave, could sense it as easily as if he could see it with his eyes.

        “Fool!” the shadow screamed in glee, and then the entirety of its power was crushing down on him.  Tarrin responded as he had years ago, reaching into himself, deeply into himself, calling forth every bit of power he contained.  Sorcery, Druidic magic, Priest magic, Wizard magic, all four responded to his call, joined and merged into a single cohesive whole beyond any magic that any mortal could ever hope to control, the full realization of his power as a Mi’Shara, and used it to stand fast against the full might that was being struck down upon him.  It pushed against him with inexorable force, and he screamed in outrage, in fury, in desperate need to stand against that power, to again spit in the face of Val.  By sheer force of will, Tarrin stood in the face of that power, and then divided it in twain with a scythe-like cut of his own merged magical might, sending it to either side of him.  The silversmith shop behind him was struck at both corners, and then the entire structure exploded in an angry blast of smoke, dust, and flying shrapnel against which Tarrin protected himself