The pain was serious, but not more than he could withstand. He grabbed hold of her wrist before it could get out of reach, then reared back and slammed the sole of his foot into her cloak-clad head, yanking on her arm in the same instant to increase the force of it. She grunted in pain, and that turned to a yowl when Tarrin kept his foot up and pushed against her head as his grip on her arm pulled her into it, trying to break her neck. Her tail lashed around and up, right between the legs, sending a white-hot flash of excrutiating pain through him. He instantly let go of her, stumbling backwards against a chair as she stumbled back a few paces herself, tearing the robe from her face. Tarrin saw her eyes go completely wild, and she shrieked at him incoherently as she rushed forward. She'd lost control of herself, entering the rage that Tarrin had felt on the edges of his own consciousness many times, a rage that had suddenly boiled up in him in response to her own. Tarrin lost himself to the rage, and met the beast in her face to face.
Beast to beast.
Dar knew he should go for help, but for a moment, he was so horrified by what he saw that he couldn't move. Tarrin and that woman were, quite simply, ripping each other to pieces. There was a look of the most terrifying mindless fury on both of them, and they dealt each other the most grievous wounds with absolutely no regard for their own lives. He'd never seen such a display of sheer animalistic mindlessness in his entire life. They were on the floor, clawing, gouging, and even biting each other in an elemental display of abject fury, rolling to and fro and smashing chairs. The floor was quickly smeared and spattered with blood and bits of flesh and torn clothing, and huge patches of bare muscle and bone began to show on each of them. What was even worse, Dar could see that those hideous wounds were slowly closing themselves. They were both regenerating their wounds, and Dar almost got sick when he realized that the winner would be the one that could withstand more raw punishment than the other, which could keep up the healing even as the other sought to rip the flesh from the bones. It was a war of attrition, and Dar shuddered to think of the pain that either of them were feeling.
They rolled over the edge of the pool and fell in, and Dar's paralysis vanished as they did. Blinking, he rushed up the stairs, hoping beyond hope that Tarrin was still alive when he returned.
Tarrin managed to regain some part of himself at the shocking touch of the water. He kicked Jesmind away, put his feet under him, and kicked off the bottom, sending him out of the water like a sling bullet from a sling, catapulting him back up to the pool's edge. He was torn and beaten, and many of his muscles had been severed. His right arm hung limply at his side, the muscles used to move it ripped apart by Jesmind's claws. The pain was there, but it was a dull thing, something that festered at the back of his mind rather than dominating his every thought. She wasn't half as hurt as he was. She was much deadlier in a mindless rage than he, falling back on instincts that had kept her alive for five hundred years. He could not match her sheer brutality or mindless resistance to pain
Jesmind climbed out of the pool slowly. Her tail was missing more than half its length, which floated in the pool, and most of her left calf had been raked away by Tarrin's feet. She'd lost every bit of clothing, shredded in their brief savagery, but the look of mindless rage was still stamped onto her face. He knew that if he lost control again, she would kill him. She was more suited to it than he. He focused his rage, focused it into what he'd learned, what he knew. He'd met her on her own battlefield, and he had paid the price. Now he had to make her fight on his. She lunged at him, but he spun away, sliding just out of reach of her claws, bending like a blade of grass in the wind. He then then elbowed her in the back with his good arm, a move that was part of ji'shen, then kneed her in the side, which was a move in the Ways. They fell apart for a second, as Jesmind gasped for breath, then she turned around and rushed him again, straight ahead, uncaring about any defense he may erect.
It was almost too easy. Tarrin turned partially aside, as if to flee, then he pivoted and brought his right leg up, folded it around his knee as his back came to her, and kicked absolutely straight up, performing a standing split. The ball of his foot struck Jesmind right under the chin, the claws of his feet punching three holes in the base of her jaw. Her head snapped back audibly, and the raw force of the blow knocked her into the air. She made no attempt to right herself and land on her feet, coming down right on the base of her neck instead. She crumpled in on herself like a rag doll, and when she settled to the floor, she did not move.
Tarrin wilted, almost falling down, as the blinding pain of too many wounds to count suddenly screamed at him all at once. He'd survived by the skin of his teeth, and he looked it. The skin of his teeth was about all he had left. He limped over to her and rolled her over with a foot. She was unconscious, bleeding from her many wounds, wounds that were closing even as he watched. He mused at that; he thought that, since they were both magical creatures, that they would deal real damage to one another. It was a good thing they did not, for he'd have been dead in the first few seconds had that been true. Her face, wet from the pool, was untouched, aside from the three puncture wounds under her jaw, and the blood had been washed from it by their bath. Just looking at her reminded him how beautiful she was, and he knew that he just couldn't kill her. Not now, not ever. Regardless of how she felt about him, he didn't hate her. And he wouldn't kill her.
He knelt by her, checking her pulse to make sure it was strong, then he smoothed the wet red hair back from her face. "Why do you have to be so damned stubborn?" he asked her weakly. Then he bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips. "If you'd just wait a while, you stubborn witch, I'd go with you." He stood up. "But it's too late for that now, I guess. I hope you're happy with your decison. If you'd have waited, or came here with me, I wouldn't have ran away."
He turned around. "Goodbye, Jesmind. Have a nice life." Then he hobbled away from her.
As soon as he'd gone far enough up the steps, Jesmind opened her eyes. They were lucid, calm, even mischievous, and she smiled a victorious little smile. But then that light look hardened over into one of firm resolve, and she shook her head as if to clear her mind of unwanted thoughts. She waited until the sound of his passage were too faint to detect, then she scrambled to her feet and darted up the steps, making less sound than a ghost.
Tarrin was met in the hallways by three Sorcerers as he hobbled back towards the Novice's quarters, two men he did not know, and the red-haired Ahiriya, who were rushing towards the baths. She was in the forefront, and she took only one look at him with those penetrating eyes. "Did you kill her?" she asked.
"Hardly," Tarrin said a bit weakly. He hadn't completely healed from the grievous injuries he'd suffered at Jesmind's hands. "It was all I could do to get away."
Ahiriya put her hands on his shoulders, and the icy sensation of Sorcerer's Healing rushed through him, putting him up on his toes as his blood seemed to turn to ice. The other two Sorcerers obeyed Ahiriya's short command to search the baths, rushing away quickly. When that icy rush faded, it took the pain along with it. Tarrin staggered back and away from her, his strength, taxed by her healing, flowing back into him. Unlike a Priest's healing, a Sorcerer's healing took some energy away from the person being healed, using it to heal the recipient, and that always left Tarrin feeling slightly drained.
"Your things have been moved to another room," she said. "That boy who rooms with you demanded to be put in the same room with you," she chuckled. "He's got guts, I'll give him that. Let's get you a robe or something to wear, and we'll take you to your new room."
That touched Tarrin. Despite the obvious danger, Dar was going to stay roommates with him.
The room Tarrin was led to was on the second level, not far from the room that Allia held alone, and it was at the very end of a hallway. The fact that there were two mailed guards standing at the entrance to that hall, quite a distance down, was not lost on him. Even though there were a goodly distance away, they defended the only way in or out, and thus stopped any
one from getting so close to him again.
The room was absolutely identical to the room he'd had below. Dar was there, busily putting up his art back on the walls, and the young man gave Tarrin a look of profound relief as he entered. Tarrin put his paws on the Novice's shoulders wordlessly. "Are you alright? Did you kill her? What happened?"
"I'm fine, no, she's not dead, and we fought for a while before I got in a lucky kick," he said with a gentle smile. "I also have a name, Dar. That man gave me a name before the Wraith killed him. That may be why the Wraith killed him."
"What name?"
"Kravon."
Dar gasped slightly. "The Kravon?" he said in shock.
"Who is he?"
"He's a renegade," he said as Tarrin let go of him and took of the too-small robe that had been found for him. His belongings were in the chest--they'd done nothing but move the whole chest. "I heard about him from my parents. He's a Wizard, and he supposedly leads a group of other Wizards who go around stealing magical artifacts. My father said there's more to it than that, though. He said that they're trying to do something."
"Why would he want to kill me?" Tarrin asked himself. "I'm nobody."
"Maybe it's not who you are," Dar said. "Maybe it's what you are."
"No, why kill me because I'm a Were-cat when he sent the Were-cat that changed me?" he countered. "He was at it before that happened anyway." He pulled on a new pair of trousers and pulled out a shirt. The door opened abruptly, and Tarrin and Dar were staring the Keeper right in the face. They both stood and bowed awkwardly, Tarrin hastily throwing his shirt on afterward.
"I see you're alright," she said.
"Well enough, Keeper," he said.
"What happened?"
"Two men tried to kill me in my sleep, then Jesmind took advantage of the confusion and attacked me when I went to the baths to clean up," he told her plainly. "One of the men gave me a name before he died," he told her triumphantly. "He said he works for Kravon."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing about it. Tarrin seemed to understand in that instant that there was an awful lot that the Keeper knew, things that would answer all of the questions that he had, and that she simply was not going to tell him. She knew why they were trying to kill him. She knew who was trying to kill him too, he was certain of it. He also came to understand in that instant that she wanted something from him. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. He was here specifically because they wanted something. And that made him nervous.
"I'll have someone look into it," she said shortly. "We can't find Jesmind, but that won't be like that for long."
"You'll never catch her, Keeper," he told her.
Her eyes seem to flash momentarily. "You have a low opinion of us, boy," she said in a steely tone.
"No ma'am, I just know Jesmind. She could hide in plain sight so well you'd step on her. She hid from all of us from the day after she bit me to the day we met in the forest, and that was no mean feat. Trust me, Keeper, you won't find her. Don't even bother."
"I'll have it done anyway," she said. "It amuses me."
"As you will, Keeper."
"Well, things will get back to normal around here now," she said. "I've put men at the entrance to this hallway to prevent any more midnight guests, so it shouldn't happen again."
"Thank you, Keeper," he said politely.
"You two try to get some sleep," she said, then she turned and walked out without another word.
"That was strange," Dar said.
Tarrin looked at the door with his eyes narrowed. The first stirrings of mistrust were coming to life inside him. Things were not as they appeared here in the Tower. And he meant to find out what was going on.
The next attempt on his life came the very next day, and his wariness from the previous night had been what saved his life. Tarrin and Allia were out on the field, practicing, when the fur on the back of his ears stood up. In that absolute instant, he knew something was wrong. He lunged forward and drove Allia to the ground, even as something buzzed spitefully over his head. There was a cry of pain seconds after than, and the sound of someone falling. Then it was chaos. Tarrin looked up, and saw that one of the students, laying on the ground near them, had a crossbow quarrel through his neck. His eyes were already vacant and glazed. Had that bolt hit him, it would have hit him right between the shoulder blades.
"Spread out and capture anyone with a crossbow!" Valden, one of the Knight instructors, bellowed instantly. One of the attending Sorcerers rushed forward, but he could see that he was too late. So he closed the boy's eyes, then pulled out the quarrel.
It was tipped with silver.
"That was meant for you," Allia said grimly.
"I know," Tarrin replied quietly. This young man was totally innocent, a victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was one more thing he was going to flay from the hide of whoever ordered the attack. His eyes went flat, and his ears laid back. "And I'm going to find who shot it."
"I'll come with you," she said, and they got up and darted away.
It took a bit of doing to get them to let Tarrin have the crossbow. It was found between two buildings, in a narrow alley, and Tarrin more or less threatened to maim anyone that wouldn't let him hold it. Tarrin put the stock near his nose, ignoring the scents all around him as he locked in on the scent of the man that had held it, and had shot it at him. Once he had it, he checked in the alley and found the scent trail. Five Knights, including Valden and Faalken, hurried along after Tarrin and Allia as Tarrin followed the man's trail. It played out, though, when it got onto the road that led to the main gate of the compound, and then outside.
"You there!" Faalken boomed at the gate guards. "Who's gone through here in the last hour?"
"Two wagons, five troops of guards, and ten visitors, sir," the gate sentry replied immediately.
"Anyone looking like they were nervous about something?"
"No sir," he replied.
"It had to be someone walking," Tarrin said. "I can still smell his scent. He walked through the gate."
"Who's walked out of here?"
"Just two troops of guards and one visitor," the man said. "It was a woman and her two bodyguards."
They looked at Tarrin, who shrugged. "Don't look at me," he said. "I just know it was a human man."
"It could have been any of them," Allia said. "Even one of the guards, or perhaps a man in a guard's uniform."
"Maybe," Faalken grunted.
"This isn't the place to discuss it," Valden said. "This place is in crossbow range of any of those buildings across the street."
Tarrin swept his eyes across the area beyond the fence. "Good point," Faalken agreed. "Let's get Tarrin back to the barracks."
Valden was one of the older knights, a gruff, no-nonsense kind of man that seemed to have absolutely no sense of humor whatsoever. He was held in very high regard among the Knights, though, because he was extraordinarily good at the small details that made a successful campaign, and he was a fearsome fighter. He was the most practical, sober man Tarrin had ever seen. Valden led them as the five Knights formed a defenseive perimeter around Tarrin, putting their steel armor in the way of another quarrel. Tarrin watched with an alert wariness, taking in and analyzing every sight and sound and smell for possible threat. They reached the barracks that served as the cadets' quarters. "We've got to tell the Keeper about this," Faalken said. "Someone is going to an awful lot of trouble to kill you, Tarrin. They've been trying since the day we left Aldreth, and they're not afraid to come into the Tower to do it, either."
"What can she do?" one of the other Knights, a hulking man named Umber, asked.
"We'll seal the compound if that's what it takes," Valden said in his no-nonsense voice. "These people have to be coming in from the outside. If they can't get in, they can't try to kill anyone."
"You can't get in here without--" Umber said, then he blanched a bit.
"That's possible," Valden said grimly.
"That someone from the inside is bringing them in," Valden explained. "Nobody can come onto the Tower grounds without an invitation or a summons. For them to get in, someone has to be inviting them in."
"Maybe they just snuck in," Tarrin said. "I've done it. This place isn't as secure as you may think."
"You have certain racial advantages, Tarrin," Valden. "It'd take a man pole-vaulting to get over the fence without touching it. Not many people know how to do that. And you can't touch the fence, else you're stuck fast to it until a Sorcerer weaves a spell to release you."
"They must get tired of going out there to release the birds," Tarrin noted.
"It doesn't trap animals," Valden said absently. "It only--" He swore. "Garen, go find out if the fence works on Wikuni."
Faalken's eyes widened, then narrowed.
"But it was a human scent I smelled," Tarrin told them.
"Yes, but let's close that door before they find it open," Valden said. "I don't know how the fence works exactly. Since it doesn't trap animals, it may only trap humans. And that means that anyone else can climb it as they please." He pursed his lips. "There's really not much we can do at this point but alert the Keeper and have her take steps," he said. "There's no way to find out who brought the assassin onto the grounds."
"Well, until we talk to the Keeper, not much else can be done," Valden said. "Tarrin, go back to the Tower, and stay indoors. I suggest you stay in a public area as well. Try to keep people around you."
The Tower of Sorcery Page 36
