"My brother, you must stop scaring me," Allia said in a stern voice, squeezing his other paw.
"I'm sorry, it's not like I planned that."
"Anything feel broken? Do you want Jula to heal something for you?" his mother asked.
"No, I feel alright," he said after a pause, sensing his own body. It was all there, including his severed ear, though the ear was still a bit tender. He was weak as a newborn kitten, but he could tell that his body had healed what the Sorcerers had not reattached or closed. Now all it had to do was recover its strength.
The pretty face of Jula crowded into his vision, and she put her hands on his face. He felt her touch the Weave, and then a slow, warm influx of energy flowed into him, seeking to invigorate his depleted body. Most of the energy was lost, but enough of it took hold in his muscles that he felt well enough to move. He still wasn't sure if his legs could hold his own weight, though.
"I'm getting tired of waking up with people hovering over me," he grunted, which made his mother smile.
"Better to wake in a sickbed than not to wake at all," she told him. "Now, tell me what happened."
"It called itself a Doomwalker," he began, seeking to edit the story so that the Goddess' warning was removed. It required a bit of creative rearrangement of the facts, though. "I saw it from my room while it was coming across the grounds, and I knew it was there for me. I came to the central Tower to try to find some Sorcerers, but I got lost. It caught up with me in a passageway. We had a fight, and then I--" he shuddered at the memory of the pain, and his body seemed to twinge in response. "I was knocked into the Conduit in the Heart, and after that, I don't really remember very much. Just pain."
"Well, that explains the fireworks," Jula said with a warm smile. "It seems that your little visit to the Heart made the Conduit light up like the sun. I heard that they could see it miles offshore. It also explains the burns. You came this close--" she held up her thumb and forefinger the barest of distances apart-- "to being Consumed."
"Huh," Tarrin grunted. He didn't remember anything like that. Then again, the only thing he could remember about the experience was that he never wanted to go through it again. There was pain, and more pain, and different kinds of pain, and the sensation of being boiled in his own skin. There was a fleeting image of the Doomwalker in a furious column of fire, its silhouette disintegrating in a span of two heartbeats. But not much else. "Is it dead?"
"Dead? The Doomwalker? There wasn't enough left of it to put into a bottle," Jula told him. "Whatever you did to it, it was a pretty thorough job."
"Thank goodness," he sighed. "It was using magic against me, and I couldn't beat it in a fight. It almost killed me."
"Almost doesn't count, my son," Elke said gently, putting her hand on her forehead.
"What happened to your hair?"
She was quiet a moment. "That, thing, didn't come right for you. It attacked us first. It tried to kill Jenna."
Tarrin's heart froze in his chest, but she gave him a look that quickly soothed his fears. "She's alright. The Sorcerer that was tutoring her managed to beat that thing back long enough for me to plant an axe in its face. There were several people there, so it became a nasty fight. The thing was throwing bolts of lightning everywhere, and a couple of times it simply disappeared from one place and appeared in another. And it was fast. It gave us all a serious fight. It gave your father a nasty slash on the belly and killed two of the people the Tower have at the house as guards, and injured several others."
"How is father?"
"He'll be alright," she said gently. "The wound was pretty deep, and it came close to spilling his guts on the floor, but after he dropped his sword, the thing stopped coming after him. It was almost bizarre."
Tarrin remembered it saying something about an honorable battle between them. "Father wasn't armed," he realized. "It wouldn't attack someone that didn't try to fight back."
"Well, it certainly didn't think that way about Jenna," she said, her temper rising. "Jenna used her magic after the other Sorcerer was hit by some strange bolt of lightning the thing threw at him, and that sent it running with its tail between its legs. I've never seen such a display. She really gave it what-for."
"What happened?"
"She picked it up in her magic and almost beat it to pieces against the floor," she replied with a wicked chuckle. "Then she crushed it between the ceiling and a shaft of stone she pulled out of our floor, and then she set it on fire. It ran from our parlor trailing flames, and the last we saw of it, it was running to jump into the river."
Tarrin smiled weakly. "Jenna always did have a temper," he said. Little Jenna, his sweet little sister. It was strange to think of her as an avenging Sorceress, wielding her powerul magic with skill and precision. But that seemed to be exactly what she did. Tarrin was too unfamiliar with his own power to even think of trying to use it against the Doomwalker, and he much preferred to fight opponents hand to paw. But for Jenna, it was the only weapon she had. She was, after all, only a young girl. But it seemed to be a weapon she could wield with power and skill when she needed it.
But it was important. The Doomwalker wasn't just after him. It was also after his sister. But why? Why did they want him, Allia and Keritanima, and now Jenna, dead? It didn't make any sense. He had to figure out what was going on. Everyone around him knew something, and it was something that they wouldn't tell him. And without that information, he had no idea what was going on, or why he seemed to be so important.
The attention of half the world is set on your shoulders, he remembered the Goddess telling him. But why? Why?
"Well, she's a bit shaken up, but other than that she's fine," she told him. "She's in the Tower now, resting. She'll come see you later, when you feel better."
"I'd like that," he said, laying back into the pillow, his mind whirling. It was too much, too quickly.
"You just lay back and rest, my son," Elke said to him in a crooning voice. "I'm here now, and I'll watch over you."
He closed his eyes, letting his weariness sweep over him, taking comfort in the fact that his mother was there, watching, and that made him feel oddly safe and secure. He fell back asleep quickly.
A Sorcerer had repaired the damage to his body, and a night's rest had replenished his strength. By morning, Tarrin was up and about, feeling a bit tired, but otherwise whole. The trauma of the day before had faded in his concern for his father and family, so he was up and out of the room well before anyone from the Tower could stop in and check up on him. Although the memory of the pain had faded, other thoughts and worries had taken its place. And Tarrin was worried.
For some reason, he had the feeling that something very bad was going to happen soon. What had happened with the Conduit--Tarrin shuddered at that thought. But he knew that he had done something, or had something done to him. He could feel it inside him. The sense of everything had changed, ever-so-slightly, and the sense of the Weave was with him all the time now. Without even reaching out for it, he could sense the Weave all around him, and its power beckoned him, called out to him, sang to him, begging him to complete the circuit and become one with it. Almost like he had awakened a part of himself in the fiery gauntlet of the Conduit. But with that newfound sensation was a gnawing fear that it was not normal, that it was what set him apart from the others, that it was what made them so interested in him.
It wasn't a sensation of power, it was more like a clearer understanding of what was around him. The Weave was a part of the world, though it was invisible and intangible to the majority of the world's population. Tarrin felt more in tune with it, and though he couldn't see the strands, he could sense them around him, could almost feel the energy flowing through them. It was strange, unusual, and yet at the same time, he realized that he had always felt those things. They had just never been so clear to him before.
And again, as always, the fear of what was going on around him had resurfaced. Now more than ever, he had to find out what was going on, and why h
e was of such great interest to the Tower, and most likely many others. Things had changed, he knew. He could feel it. Things had changed, and he had the feeling that unless he found out what was going on, he was going to pay dearly for his failure.
Following the scent of his mother wasn't that difficult, and he managed to get to their door by dawn. As he expected, they were not alone. Two Sorcerers, one of them Jula, sat in the sitting room of the apartment, and Tarrin could hear his family moving around in the room beyond.
"Tarrin," Jula said in surprise. "How do you feel?"
"I'm well enough," he replied, crossing the room quickly and opening the door beyond. Inside was a well-appointed bedchamber, with a large bed, chest, armoire, and a writing desk. Bedtables held an oil lamp and a pitcher of water with washbasin, but Tarrin's attention was focused on the three figures on the bed. Eron Kael was laying in the bed with Elke sitting on one side and Jenna on the other. They turned to look when he came in through the door, and Tarrin found his sister buried in his arms only seconds later. She began to cry, clutching onto him tightly. He picked her up easily and carried her to the bed, then he sat down with Jenna clinging to him, putting his paw on his father's shoulder gently. "Good morning," Tarrin said with a slight smile.
"I'm getting too old for this," Eron said with a chuckle. "I see you're well, boy."
"You can't keep a good Were-cat down," Tarrin said with a shrug. "How is it?"
"The Sorcerers fixed it well enough, but you know how that healing takes it out of you." Tarrin nodded. His experience with being healed was intimate. "I'm starting to feel well enough to move around, but this taskmaster here won't let me out of bed."
"They said he wasn't to exert himself until noon, and that means that he doesn't get out of bed," Elke said fiercely.
"I don't think getting up and sitting in a chair counts as exertion," Eron said testily.
"Deal with it," she said in a flinty tone.
"What choice do I have?"
"None."
"Then why say it?" he asked in a sharp voice.
"I never said anything. You're the one that keeps trying to put words in my mouth."
Eron blew out his breath, and Tarrin had to surpress a grin. Jenna had gotten over her outburst, and she was giggling a bit. Tarrin squeezed her gently. "I heard that you had a scare yesterday, brat," Tarrin told her.
"Scary isn't the word," she said with a shiver. "That thing--"
"Don't dwell on it, dear," Elke cautioned in a gentle voice.
"Well don't worry about it," he told her. "From what they told me, I didn't leave enough of it to put into a jar. It won't be bothering you for a long while. If ever."
"That's my big brother," Jenna said in a quivering voice. "Always there to kill the boogey man."
Tarrin chuckled. "Well, I don't think I'll go that far," he said. "I see they gave you a nice room."
"I'd rather be home," Eron growled. "What's left of it, anyway."
"That bad?"
"The roof caved just as we got out," Elke told him. "The fight wasn't very good for the house. It will take some time to repair it."
Tarrin glanced at the door. "Have you made any other plans?"
"We were thinking of staying here," she said.
Tarrin shook his head. "This isn't a good place to be, mother," he warned. "You should find other arrangements."
"There are any number of inns--" Eron began, but Tarrin shook his head again. He reached over to the writing desk and picked up a piece of paper and a quill pen, inked the pen, then set it on the bed by his reclining father.
"You know the city pretty well?" Tarrin asked.
"Fairly," Elke replied.
Tarrin wrote a set of directions on the paper, using the Ungardt language. He slipped it to Elke, who read it quickly, reached it over to the lamp, and then burned it. "When you get there, tell the owner of the house that you're friends of Shadow," he told her in Ungardt. "He'll know what that means, and he won't turn you away." He closed his eyes, memories of Janette and the orderly house of Janine the wife flooding through him.
"I take it that they're friends of yours?"
"More than friends. If they remember me, anyway."
"Oh, you mean that they're them?"
He nodded. "Be nice to them, mother."
"Of course," she snorted. "Why shouldn't we stay here?"
"If you two don't stop that, I'm going to get surly," Eron said waspishly. Eron couldn't speak Ungardt.
"Hush," Elke commanded her husband absently.
He glared at her, but said nothing. "Something's going on here, you know that," Tarrin told her. "I don't know, but I get the feeling that what happened yesterday is going to make things tense here for a while. It would probably be a good idea for you to be somewhere where nobody knows your name, if you understand my meaning."
She gave him a penetrating look, and finally nodded. "Maybe you're right," she said. "But Jenna--"
"I think Jenna has enough control of herself not to have an accident, at least for a ride or two," Tarrin said. "She can continue after things have a chance to settle down."
"I think you have a good point," Elke said after a moment.
"Well, I'd better get moving before they send a posse after me," Tarrin said, reaching down and patting his father's shoulder. "I'll come visit in a couple of days. You'd better get better, father."
"If I don't, your mother will kill me," he said with a smile.
"Nothing like motivation," he teased, then he squeezed his sister gently again. "Time for me to go, Jenna."
"Be careful, Tarrin," she said, letting go of him and going around the bed to sit beside her mother.
Without thinking, Tarrin reached out to his mother and put his paw under her chin, cupping it. After thinking about what he wanted for a moment, he touched the Weave and quickly wove together the proper flows of fire, water, earth, and divine energy, then released them into her. Elke's hair suddenly grew at a shocking rate, quickly extending well past her waist. She scrubbed furiously at her scalp for a second, then felt the weight of it.
Tarrin felt something different about it this time, something strange, and something that scared him. That tremendous power that he remembered from the day before seemed to be right there, and it all came at him in a sudden flood that took him quite by surprise. He almost didn't remember how to sever himself from his own power, because it came at him in a flood that he couldn't hope to choke off or control, and it happened to him so fast that he didn't even have time to think about what to do to stop it. Just as the day before, severing himself had been a reflex action, a defense against what he was feeling. He wouldn't be able to let go of the Weave, he sensed that, so he had to cut himself off before he lost control. He blinked, trying to understand what had happened.
He had touched the Weave, but when the Weave noticed it, the Weave had tried to touch him.
She stared at Tarrin in surprise, but he only smiled at her, covering his sudden shock at what had nearly happened to him. Losing it in front of Jula was not a good idea. "You don't look natural without your braid," he told her, standing up. "Be well, mother. I'll see you soon."
"How did you do that?" she asked.
"I've been healed so many times, I should know how it's done by now," he said in a rueful tone, shrugging. "But I really have to go. I'll see you soon."
"Be well, my son," she replied.
After taking her hand, he was quickly out and away. Out in the hall, he allowed himself to slump against the wall, paw to his head. He felt drained, as if the sudden influx of power had taken his own strength with it. What happened? By the end of that first day when he first could touch the Weave, he could easily manage to flow of power. But that had been...more, different. It wasn't the same as it had been before his fight with the Doomwalker.
"Let's talk about it, Tarrin," Jula's voice called from the door. The slender, pretty blond came up to him and touched him on the cheek, and he felt gentle warmth flow into him. "I felt a s
udden, radical inflow of power, and then it cut off. You didn't mean to do that, did you?"
"I, no, I didn't," he said. He didn't know Jula well, but the few times that he had spoken with her, she had always left him with a good impression. The only katzhi-dashi he even came close to trusting was Dolanna, but Jula was right here, and she already seemed to suspect. He had no reason not to talk to her. Besides, he did like her a little bit. She was like Dolanna and Sevren, not too stuffy or full of herself. "I had touching the Weave down, but," he closed his eyes. "I think getting caught in that Conduit changed something inside me. I felt the power of the Weave, and then it tried to fill me. It came out of nowhere, and I almost couldn't cut myself off."
"I certainly wouldn't have been able to," she said in a grim tone. "It's a good thing you did. What else felt different?"
"Nothing," he replied after a moment's consideration. "Everything felt the same. Touching the Weave, building up the power to weave, and then the initial weaving. But after I let the weave go, the power just roared at me like a charging lion. I have no idea where it came from."
She stared at him for a long moment. "I really don't have an explanation for you, Tarrin," she said. "But this is something that you'd better tell your instructor, and maybe even the Council of Seven. Perhaps the Conduit injured your ability to control the power, but not anything else."
"No, I can still control it," he said. "Whatever it was, it came from outside, from the Weave. It," he began, closing his eyes and remembering the feeling, "it was as if the Weave reached out and grabbed me. It, reacted to me touching it."
"I've never heard of that before," Jula said, "but then again, I've never heard of alot of things that are possibly true. You need to go rest, Tarrin. That may be the best thing for you right now. Rest, and don't try to use Sorcery again until you feel completely whole. And for the Goddess' sake, don't do anything without a Sorcerer there to help you in case it gets away from you."
"I will, I promise," he replied sincerely.
"Now scoot, Initiate," she said with a teasing voice, patting him on the hip. "That's an order."
The Tower of Sorcery Page 64
