Weavespinner

by James Galloway

  Goddess! The land was sinking into the liquid fire that was beneath it!

  Not seconds later, a hideously sharp shudder in the ground under her feet told her that the same thing was happening right under her! She saw the earth start to rise before her some twenty spans ahead, felt the lightness in her stomach as she started to fall down under the earth with the land on which she was running, and she leaned forward and sprinted with all her might as the land got higher and higher, leaping hugely when she got close to that rising land. She soared over that edge with plenty of room to spare, and the instant her feet touched solid ground, she fled away from the growing pit behind her blind panic, knowing that a plume of flying lava was going to erupt out of that pit as soon as the earth fell into the lake of liquid fire that was consuming it. If any of it splashed on her, it would mean her instant death!

  "Mama!" Jasana screamed in terror, burying her face in her mother's chest.

  "I know, cub, I know!" she said in a strangled tone. "Where are you, you damned dragon?" she huffed in a terrified voice. "Goddess, if you're out there, I need your help!" she pleaded as she ran. "If someone doesn't come and get us, we're not going to make it!"

  As if in answer to her prayer, a shadow appeared over them and then vanished. She looked up to see a dragon circling over them, one with deep blue scales, but was an order of magnitude smaller than Sapphire. This one couldn't be more than fifty spans long from nose to tail, a truly tiny dragon compared to the immense matriarch who was Tarrin's friend. Jesmind's relief at seeing that scaly beast defied rational explanation. It was as if it were a personal gift from Tarrin's Goddess, a magnificent chariot to whisk them away to safety.

  "I'm here!" it called in a breathless voice. "Sorry, a couple of Demons slowed me down!"

  It landed quickly and heavily fifty spans before them, hunkering down as they rushed towards it so they could climb on as soon as they reached it. "Quickly, the earth is shifting under me!" the dragon called in concern. "We don't have much time!"

  "What's going on?" she demanded as she reached it, jumped up onto its back and in front of its wings, settling between two spines at the base of its neck. She stuck Jasana in front of her, putting her arms around her daughter protectively as the dragon turned quickly on the ground and unfurled its wings.

  "The army's pulling out as quickly as it attacked, and the Goblinoids are running right behind them!" the dragon said. "The entire tundra is shaking, and fissures are opening up everywhere! This war is over, biped! Nobody's going to fight on a battlefield like this!"

  "What's making it happen?" Jesmind asked as the dragon's wings flared, and they vaulted into the sky.

  "That is!" he said, nudging nose towards the collapsing pyramid. "Can't you feel it, biped? Whoever's in that thing is tearing the world apart with magic!"

  Jesmind looked down as the dragon turned its tail to the pyramid and beat its wings frantically. Huge masses of Goblinoids were doing just what the dragon said, running for their lives, but many of them were dying as the land tore itself apart, sending them plunging into those pools of molten rock and to certain and painful death. She looked ahead to see the army the gods had brought doing the exact same thing, fleeing wildly, trying to outdistance the fissures that were opening in the earth and causing massive chunks of it to sink into a fiery demise. Whatever combat had taken place before this happened was completely forgotten, as human and Goblinoid fled side by side in common interest, as every living thing on the tundra below desperately tried to get away from the hellish chaos that had gripped the land.

  Jesmind looked behind them, to the pyramid. Tarrin was in there, and he was fighting with Val. Their battle was so intense, so powerful, that it was tearing the earth apart. She could only look back in desperate fear and worry for her mate, trying to understand what was happening, why he was continuing to fight even though there was no chance he could win. Goddess, what was happening in there?

  It was a battle between two evenly matched foes.

  Tarrin sensed that early on as they continued to trade unimaginable assaults on one another, grappling in the air over the platform, but those physical actions were nothing but a metaphor to symbolize the titanic battle that was being waged between the two of them. Val was confined to his icon, but it in no way restricted his ability to battle Tarrin on every conceivable and inconceivable level of existence, fantasy, imagination, and even anti-existence. The two gods hurled such power between them that the mortals surrounding them would go mad trying to understand it, scrabbling into every possible realm for any foothold or advantage that would turn the tide of the battle in his favor. Though Tarrin was new to this kind of battle his divine status gave him all the understanding and awareness he needed, and that caused him to be able to fight Val on even terms.

  And they were even. Their power, though separated by five thousand years, was equal. Totally equal. They were both creations of the Firestaff, both borne of its energies, and it had not changed its method of bestowing its gifts after five thousand years. They were mirror images of one another, with only time and experience separating them. But while Val had the advantage of experience, Tarrin had the advantage of sheer determination, possessing an absolute determination to win at any cost, no matter what. Val did not have that same maniacal zeal. He was fighting to save his own life, nothing more, and that fear of death caused him to be much more cautious. As it had served him so many times in the past, so it served him again. Tarrin's wild nature and dangerous, reckless method of fighting allowed him to throw absolutely everything at the dark god, unafraid of consequence or even continued survival, seeking to overwhelm his adversary with with sheer determination and his utter need to win at any cost.

  And he could throw absolutely everything at Val. He could sense the presence of all the other gods, something that certainly seemed to distract Val, and knew that they were containing the pair of them, allowing them to fight and minimizing the damage they did to the universe. That was a good thing. Had it not been contained, muted, the raw power unleashed by them would have devastated everything within a hundred leagues, and as the battle raged on, the area of destruction would have grown wider and wider.

  Knowing that their battle would not destroy the world only urged Tarrin on even more fervently, allowing him to commit himself utterly and completely to the fight, unleashing such furious assault on Val that he had been forced to literally consolidate his power and defend against his infuriated opponent. The pyramid shook and crumbled around them, shaken to its core by the power of the struggle taking place within it.

  The battle taking place in the mortal realm was only a small part of what was going on, but it was a metaphor for the battle raging between the two gods. Every movement and act was merely a representation of the shifting of vast amounts of power along infinite realms of possibility, and every attack or defense was a representation of countless thrusts and assaults, parries and ripostes, taking place in those realms of possibility in a simultaneous action. It was a battle on every possible level, but a battle waged by two gods whose minds were still grounded in mortal concepts. That was why Tarrin had managed to unsettle Val with anger. Despite being a god and having such a vast mind, able to concentrate on thousands of individual things at once, he still possessed emotion, and that emotion could blind a thousand facets of the same mind as easily as they blinded just one. Emotion was the key to this battle, one facet of Tarrin's vastly expanded mind realized as he deflected an attack from Val from those countless aspects, but in the mortal realm was symbolized by a blast of utter darkness that erupted from the rod in Val's shadowy hand. Tarrin's sword slashed the darkness in half, sending it to either side of him, a mere representation of the true defensive counter that the former Were-cat had employed. The deflected attack's power was largely lost in the ether of existence, but a fragment of it, the fragments grounded in the physical world, slammed into the side of the pyramid and nearly collapsed its entire south side, but through some miracle the wall managed to ho
ld, a testament to the skill of the lost race of people who had built it. It caused the entire pyramid to shake violently, but somehow the grand old building managed to stay up.

  Emotion was the key, and also the weakness. No matter that they were gods, it was emotion that ruled their actions now. Val fought desperately out of hatred, anger and fear. His hatred for Tarrin was a tangible thing, a cancer within him, and it was facing his most hated foe that brought out his anger. And there was fear as well, fear of losing, fear of destruction, even fear of what would happen when he beat Tarrin and had to face all the gods surrounding them, worried that he would be too weak to repel an attack from them all.

  Tarrin's emotions were no less powerful, but were much differently focused. His hatred for Val was intense, but it did not consume him. His greatest emotion was fear, but it was fear for others, not for himself. He had used the Firestaff to become a god to save his mate and daughter, and also to once and for all put an end to Val and the danger he represented to his family and friends. That fear for the safety of others had instilled within him a powerful determination to win, to destroy Val no matter what it took, and no matter what the cost. He fought wildly, recklessly, unafraid of loss so long as his defeat so weakened his opponent that the gods beyond could strike him down, just as Val feared, before he could mount a defense against them. For Tarrin, Val's defeat was much more important to him than his own victory, and his opponent had a very hard time protecting himself from someone that was quite willing to lose so long as he softened up his foe enough for the next assailant to win.

  Besides, he knew that his victory would be his own defeat. By taking up the Firestaff and becoming a god, he was now just as much a threat and danger to the gods as Val. If he struck Val down, they would attack him just as quickly as they would have attacked Val. He knew the instant he held the Firestaff to the sky that it was a one way trip, and that his deification would be brief. He had become a god for the sole reason to destroy Val. Once Val was destroyed, there would be no more need for him, and he would not endanger the world by trying to live on.

  If only to protect those he so greatly loved that he was willing to resort to this kind of desperate gamble.

  Tarrin shifted his awareness more into the physical world, studying the shifting, shadowy form of his opponent, allowing his expanded mind to consider as he prepared to repel an attack his opponent was about to initiate. Val's physical form suddenly rushed forward with the black rod leading, and Tarrin responded sufficiently, which caused his physical form to bring up his sword and parry the blow wide. The key was the physical world and emotion, he understood that now. By continuing to brawl across the entire spectrum of existence, he was doing nothing but wandering away from the key of it. Val was imprisoned within his icon. Destroy that icon, and he would destroy Val. That was why Val was attacking in such a vast and broad manner, to distract Tarrin from the simple truth of that one observation. Val's weakness, his greatest weakness, was his imprisonment. And emotion was the path that would lead him to the promised land.

  Shifting himself almost entirely into the physical world, Tarrin freed his physical form of its mere status as a metaphor of battle and attacked Val's physical form in earnest. This shocked and surprised his foe, who was forced to return to the physical realm himself, hastily raising up his black rod of utter darkness to desperately parry the assault. Tarrin attacked again, and again, and again with his blazing sword, causing his adversary to back up quickly, moving to protect his vulnerable icon from attack.

  What's the matter, Val? he taunted, speaking directly into his foe's mind. Do I frighten you now? I know how to defeat you. You couldn't beat me when I was a mere mortal, and you know you have no chance against me now. So why don't you just give up? I'll make it swift and clean.

  I am invinicible! Val shrieked feverishly in Tarrin's expanded mind, his hatred and anger boiling out of his words like froth from the mouth of a mad dog. I am a god! I am eternal! You are nothing, Were-cat, do you hear? Nothing! You take from me my rightful place and my destiny, and now you have the nerve to consider yourself my better? I will show you how wrong you are!

  It's almost unfair, Tarrin continued to taunt. After all, you're bound into your icon, limited in your power. I have no such restriction. I could withdraw my icon to somewhere safe and deal with you from a position of security, but I won't do that. I'll give you the chance to kill me, fair and square, hand to hand. Just you and me, though it will hardly be a fair fight. You are but a mere godling, Val. In a way, I pity you for your disability.

  That got him. The term godling seemed to send Val into a fever pitch, and he abandoned dragging Tarrin into fighting across the entire spectrum of existence and resorted to good old fashioned brute force in the physical world. He advanced with his glowing eyes blazing with indignation and fury, as if Tarrin's insults had been more than he could stand, wailing at Tarrin's winged form with his rod of utter darkness. This was a form of combat much more suited to the martially trained Were-cat, and he smoothly and gladly fell into a defensive position, concentrating all his power in the physical world yet watchful for a sudden attack in the realms beyond that of mortal comprehension. Motes of charged magical chaos drifted away from the impact of Val's rod and Tarrin's sword, physical embodiments of raw magic, whose effects on reality were wild and upredictable when they struck solid matter, as the two gods battled across the dusty air over the high dais below, a dais littered with massive boulder-sized building stones that had fallen from the roof above. Val proved he knew how to fight in a physical sense, but his technique was forced, and his edge was taken away by his rage. His movements were jerky and predictable, and he was so taken with his anger that he didn't realize that the god who opposed him was simply letting him attack to get a feel for his opponent, coming to an understanding of his preferences and his strengths and weaknesses when fighting with a weapon.

  Tarrin continued to defend, searching Val's technique and the magic that made up his physical form for a chink in his armor, a weakness he could exploit to his full advantage. His chosen form was one that was not completely solid, shifting in its nature and actually rather cleverly adaptable, which also made it deceptive and hard to pin down. But the shadows and darkness only concealed what was really in there, and that was his icon. It was a physical object, not an amalgamation of shadows and darkness. Those were just shells, smoke and mirrors that Val had erected around his vulnerable icon to protect it from detection and attack. Somewhere in that mass of living darkness was a plain black stone statue, and that was what he needed to attack.

  It could be anywhere in there, he realized as he deflected a furious series of savage blows, as the dark god's temper had truly run away with him. He'd have to be very exact, and he couldn't miss. If Val realized what he was doing, if he missed with the first try, Val would regain his composure and again spread the battle out into the infinite aspects of existence, where Val had a better chance to defeat his less experienced opponent and protect his vulnerable icon. Tarrin had gotten him mad, and he had to defeat him before he regained his senses and strove not to lose his temper again.

  The icon was the key. But how to reach it within the shapeless nature of the defenses Val had erected around it, that was the question.

  Tarrin considered the problem for long moments as he systematically backed up and out of the dark god's wild swings, trying to find a clue that would answer that simple question. He stopped backing up and suddenly turned on Val to attack, catching the angry god off balance, raining massive blows down at his shadowed head that the god just barely managed to deflect. That attack seemed to clear the fog in Val's mind, and Tarrin realized that he was starting to come out of his tizzy. He doubted he could incite him into another outburst again, so he knew he had to work fast. He again scanned Val's shadowy body for a clue as to where he was hiding the icon within it, but the dark god had done well in concealing his vulnerability from his opponent. He felt Val's mind again expand out into the countless realms of
existence, preparing to return the battle to a raging melee conducted through all aspects of being, to return to the form of combat that gave him the most advantage.

  The answer was deceptively simple, striking him suddenly, and it was an experience of his mortal life. It was so simple that he almost laughed. It was so simple that he had overlooked it!

  Magical creatures can directly affect one another.

  Icons and their physical forms would be no different. Just as the young mortal Tarrin, so long ago, could strike an insubstantial Wraith and do it harm, so now could the god Tarrin reach out with his physical form and grab hold of the vaporish darkness that made up Val's physical form.

  That was the answer. And it presented him the opportunity to finish it once and for all, to bring a final end to the threat Val posed to his friends, his family, and to his children.

  With deliberant intent and eyes lost in the moment, Tarrin let go of his sword. The blazing weapon dimmed and contracted when he let it go, until it was again nothing but a mortal weapon that clattered to the ground far below, the ringing of its impact sounding in his ears, like the chiming of the sweetest bell. That act took Val off guard for a critical instant, in that instant Tarrin struck. He surged forward with only a speed that a god could muster, and a speed that only a god could react to and counter. But Tarrin's release of his weapon had distracted the dark god for a fatal instant, and when Tarrin's flaming paw closed around the wrist of the shadowed hand holding the black rod, Val's eyes widened in shock and terror. He returned to the physical world and tried to wrest free of the god's fiery grip, but could not. He struggled and writhed as Tarrin's other paw reached out and grabbed him by the back of the head when he turned away, then dragged him into a deadly embrace. Val writhed and struggled wildly to break free, trying to gather himself up for a final assault on the former Were-cat, an attack of wild desperation, but it was too late. Tarrin's power focused inward, built to its maximum, even as his fiery wings folded over, covering over both himself and his insubstantial adversary, enclosing him within the fiery expanse of their inner curves.