Honor and Blood

by James Galloway

  About two hours after the fire, the first Centaur spotted a hazy, indisctinct form that appeared within the flames. He pointed to it and noted it to his companion, and by the time he looked in that direction, the form was obvious and apparent. More and more people and Woodkin looked as an excited buzz sprang up around the host, and many of them were there to see Tarrin Kael literally step out of the fire, a fire that could not touch him. He had black ash and soot on his face, on his burned clothing, but his flesh and hair were untouched by the intense heat of the flames. It wasn't just this that caught everyone's attention, however. It was the look on his face.

  He looked like the walking dead. There was no life within his eyes, and his expression was one of empty emotionlessness. He stepped from the flames and stopped just beyond them, still too far away for anyone to approach and live, due to the intense heat the flames radiated. The Were-cat stopped and stared at the Rangers and Woodkin with those empty eyes, and then he did the most curious thing.

  He turned around and stepped back into the fire.

  Jesmind had to be restrained by Rahnee and Thean as she tried to run into the inferno after him, and Jasana burst into tears. Kimmie hugged herself with a horrible look on her face.

  Arren, who had arrived on the scene just after Tarrin returned to the fire, noticed them and their behavior immediately. He marched over to them and gave Jeri and Singer a look so flat that even they would not stand in his way, and then he stood before the Were-cat females with a desperate look in his eye. "What happened?" he demanded loudly. "I can tell you know something, Mistress Jesmind! I demand to know what happened to my city!"

  Kimmie looked away from him, turning her back on him and wrapping her tail around her waist. Jesmind picked up her daughter and let her bury her little face in her mother's shoulder, weeping uncontrollably. Jesmind's face was haunted, almost frightening in its own way, and she stared back into the fire with eyes that burned as brightly as the flames did.

  "Not now," Jesmind said in a growling tone at the smaller human.

  "What other time is there than now?" Arren screamed at her. "Look! My city is gone! Thousands of good, decent Torrians are dead! Everything I've built and watched over and loved for the last thirty years stands burning before you! Dammit, woman, I'd say now is as good a time as any for an explanation!" he finished with a thunderous roar.

  Jesmind looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes.

  Arren looked about to explode. "Answer me, woman!" he raged.

  She looked away from him pointedly.

  "There's no need for that, Arren," Sathon said in a weary tone as he arrived on the scene with Mikos. "Jesmind won't tell you, no matter what you do."

  "Why is that, Sathon? What's going on here? What happened to my city?" Arren demanded, turning to him.

  It was obvious that Sathon was suffering as well. His face was gray and pallid, and his eyes looked very, very tired. "I don't know exactly what happened, but I have a pretty good idea."

  "What?" Arren said in a shrill tone.

  "Torrian was burned by magic," Sathon said grimly. "And I only know one person with the kind of magical talent capable of something like this."

  "By Karas' hammer!" Arren gasped. "Tarrin!"

  Jasana cried even harder, and Jesmind tried to comfort her. But she was beyond comforting.

  The fire did not scour away the pain.

  Tarrin walked in the middle of the raging inferno that had once been Torrian, walking through the hellish scene as if on a morning stroll. His feet often came down in puddles of liquid lead, or piles of glowing embers, or upon red-hot steel armor, twisted and smoldering, still encasing the blackened bones of the man who wore it. He was oblivious to his surroundings, walking only until something rose up to block his progress, then he would turn in a random direction and continue onward.

  So many...so many. And he had killed them all. Soldiers, Goblinoids, and all the men, women, and children of Torrian, who had been hiding in their homes. It was the nightmare reborn, legions of new eyeless faces that would haunt his dreams for all time. Enemies and friends, guilty and innocent, all of them wiped out in a single moment. And what made it so terrible was that this time, there was no rage, no fury blanketing the awful truth. There was no excuse. He had done it consciously, had made a deliberate choice, a choice that ended the lives of thousands of people in a hellish firestorm.

  It was the last thing he wanted to do...but there seemed to be no other choice. The enemy army was all over Torrian, and they outnumbered the Rangers and the Were-kin by at least ten to one. It would have been an absolute slaughter, and Suld itself would have been jeopardized. But those reasons seemed pitiful compared to the awful reality of what stood before him, the fruits of his handiwork. He didn't mourn much for the destruction of the Dals or the ki'zadun, what hurt him most was the thought that he had destroyed innocent people along with them.

  Tarrin fell to his knees as absolute exhaustion overwhelmed him. The strain of creating such a powerful weave had been almost more than he could stand, and then he had wandered the burning city in a daze for hours afterward. His body simply had nothing left. He put his paws down on the blasted ground, panting from exertion, feeling the ash shift beneath his paws. He grabbed a pawful of it and trembled as he rose up, watching it sift down through his fingers. It was all that was left, all there was to serve as a memorial to the thousands that had died here. He opened his paw and watched it blow away on the fire-whipped wind. He couldn't face the rest of them. Not now, not after this. Sathon probably knew, and that meant that Fae-da'Nar would declare him Rogue. Jesmind was gone to him now, as were Triana and Kimmie and Mist and the son he never met, and all his Were-cat friends and acquantances. They would never speak to him again; they would try to kill him now. The only one he could even think to face was Jasana, and only because he had no choice but to take her with him. But he could never look at his little girl again and feel the same joy he had felt before. The day she found out what he had done here, he would lose her. And because of what he was, it would probably be Jasana that they sent after him, the only one capable of defeating her father with Sorcery. Allia would never speak to him again after she found out about this, and neither would his parents or Jenna. Keritanima would be the only one that could come close to understanding, but he wasn't sure if she could rationalize something like this.

  His life was over. All the hopes and dreams that had been kindled by his reunion with Jesmind and meeting his daughter crumbled to dust inside him. There was nothing now, nothing to live for, nothing to look forward to. There was nothing but the Goddess, and the terrible mission he was committed to accompish. And that did not seem to be enough anymore.

  Sinking down, putting his forehead against the tortured, ash-covered ground, Tarrin began weeping. He couldn't live with himself now. Not after losing everything that mattered to him. The exhaustion and the shock and the horror and the fear and the guilt all washed over him at once, and finally, mercifully, he spun down into the black depths of nothingness.

  There was fire everywhere. The scene was one of firelit devastation, where ash blanketed the ground and blackened, charred posts and logs rose up from the mound of black ash and split rock like the fingers of some giant reaching up from where it was buried under the ruins. Fires still burned all over, slowly dying as the last of the fuel was consumed, but they were still enough to kill anything wandering the blasted landscape with the heat they generated. It looked as if nothing could survive in that hellish place.

  But there was one thing. The body of a Were-cat lay sprawled in the ash by a large, blazing pyre that had once been an inn, his face and body covered with streaked black ash, clothes singed and burned. He should not have been able to survive where he was, but regardless, he was there. He was bathed in the reddish light of the burning city around him, casting his haunted face with shadow.

  Those shadows vanished as spots of light began to glow over him. There were four of them, each nothing more than a mo
te of dancing light, but the light they generated bathed the entire area in blinding white radiance. Each carried its own unique color, its own flavor, as if each one represented something or someone different.

  Can you see what we have done? one of them declared in a voice without sound, a voice filled with anguish. We have broken him! There is nothing left for him, and he cannot go on any longer!

  Calmly, daughter, another answered, a deep voice of authority. What was done was what had to be done.

  We had to know, a third affirmed, a voice of endless energy and vibrance. We had to know if he was capable of what may be asked of him.

  But at what cost? the fourth demanded, a voice of regimented order. The cost is mine! My people, my worshippers, my own power, they are the victims of this!

  It is as it needs be, my child, the voice of vibrance said sadly. It always saddens me to see any life end, but it is but the cycle coming to its rightful end, only to begin again.

  But what of him? the first cried out. What of my sweet child? Must we continue to destroy him? Must we take everything that he is before you are satisfied, and leave him nothing but an empty shell?

  Calmy, my daughter, the voice of vibrance said, mirroring the first to rebuke her.

  But it is too much! she protested vehemently. Mother, this has destroyed his soul! What we made him do here, it is more than he can bear!

  What was done can be undone, the first to speak to her said gently. But consider the cost to the world to protect just one. The test here will become tainted by our hand, and it may change our champion's ability to make such hard decisions later. The echo of this will always remain in him, and it may alter his behavior later on. As all of you know, he stands beyond mortal restrictions. He will know without knowing what happened here today, and we cannot change that. Faced with another such decision as this, he may not choose as must be chosen.

  It must be undone! the fourth cried out. It is my land that has sufferered for this! My people! To take so many, it is a crime! Mother, father, I beg of you, undo this!

  Such a thing comes at a price, my son, the voice said gently. A terrible price.

  Perhaps, the first said hesitantly. Perhaps, a compromise can be reached?

  What do you propose, my daughter? the voice of vibrance asked.

  Perhaps if only a portion of it is undone, the first offered. It is not the destruction of the land that weighs on my sweet child, it is the knowledge that he has destroyed the innocent. If the children of Karas are not destroyed in this test, it would give my child the will to go on. All of you understand his nature. For the guilty, he cares nothing, but for the innocent he cares almost too much. Perhaps, if we asked our Twin siblings to return the souls of only the Sulasians, a compromise could be reached to satisfy all sides. Karas would not lose his faithful. Our champion would have cause to continue his quest, and the test and the knowlege it has provided shall stand and bolster us, for we would know without tampering that my child has the fortitude necessary to make decisions that must be made.

  Would this be acceptable to you, my son? the voice of authority asked.

  It would be most acceptable to me, Father, he answered immediately. Cities can be rebuilt, but the life that makes it so can never be replaced. If I could have my children returned to me, I would be most grateful, even if the power I lost by their destruction cannot be returned to me.

  I find your devotion to your children most admirable, my son, the voice said, which made the point of light which represented Karas suddenly shine brighter, as if he were beaming in pride. Would you find this acceptable, my wife?

  I find it to be a sensible alternative, my husband, the voice of vibrancy agreed. The path of things shall not be greatly changed by such a compromise. All things will continue as they need to continue, and it will assuade great turmoil and grief that could put the quest in jeopardy by forces within Sulasia. Such things already exist in great abundance. The Balance would be better served to show mercy in this.

  Then we are in agreement, the voice of authority declared. With your leave, my wife, it shall be so. Do we consent?

  We consent, the voice of vibrancy agreed.

  Then it shall be so, the voice of authority repeated. My wife, summon our daughter Sheniia. Only the goddess of mercy and life can demand of the Twins of Death what all others, even ourselves, must plead. Only Sheniia can assure that the bargain is fulfilled.

  It shall be so, my husband, the voice of vibrancy answered.

  Then let it be so, he declared in a voice of finality.

  The four points of light then flared into incandescence, and were gone.

  All over the blasted, burning city of Torrian, points of light appeared within destroyed buildings. Charred bones and ash suddenly began to glow with a soft, gentle radiance. And then, in a simultaneous blinding flash, brighter than the fire, the glow flared up and then faded away, leaving behind it whole, living, breathing people, eyes closed and minds asleep, bodies unclad and exactly as they had been before the fire that destroyed them, protected by gentle cocoons of magical power, shielded by the hellish firestorm raging beyond. They were the townsfolk of Torrian, restored to life by a bargain between the gods, a bargain struck in compassion and sealed in duty.

  The fires suddenly began to die out, unnaturally so,and the air cooled to where it would no longer burn the skin from the bodies of those left behind. When it reached that point, when the air was scrubbed of the toxic gases that would kill those remaining within it, the coccoons of protection wavered and vanished.

  And the thousands of Torrian citizens opened their eyes, staring at the blasted devastation with confusion and uncertainty. Many of them were too confused to understand what had happened. Many of them cried out in embarassment when they realized that they were laying in ash-choked rubble with no clothes on. But most of them realized that something of titanic proportions had occurred, and they got up and started wandering about, looking for family or friends, trying to make sense of it all.

  "Did you just see that?" Mikos asked suddenly as they all watched the flames. "Did you see that light?"

  "I saw nothing," Arren said, but Sathon had an ashy pall, and his eyes were about to pop out of his head. And then the Druid laughed.

  "What is it, Sathon?" Arren asked in irritation, watching his precious city burn.

  He was about to respond, but the flames burning what had once been the walls simply stopped, like closing a tap on a cask of ale. Smoke rose up from the charred remains of the wall, and for the first time, they could see well into the city itself. It was a scene of total devastation, all black, charred ash and twisted fingers of debris rising from the black ground. But then they all saw something moving out in it. It approached them uncertainly, and when the haze began to clear, they saw that it was a young woman, no more than twenty, wandering the devastation with ash smearing her totally nude, yet totally unmarked, body. It was apparent to them all that she was Sulasian, and she swooned about in disoriented stumbles. One of the Rangers jumped forward, rushing over the burned logs that had once been the wall, and he reached the woman quickly. He threw his cloak over her and swept her up from the ground, then began carrying her out towards the others.

  "She's alive!" someone called in an Ultern accent, which caused a short roar of happiness to rise up from the Rangers. "Look! There's another one!"

  "I think Timon shows the way, men!" Arren said in sudden excitement as another figure appeared, rising up from the ashes of Torrian. Then another, then another, and then another. "Let's go see what miracles this fire left behind! Go find anyone alive, and bring them out to the field behind us!"

  The Rangers rushed forward into the smoking ruins of Torrian, and they weren't alone. The Centaurs and the Were-kin rolled forward with them, just as surprised and intrigued by this seeming miracle as the humans were. Jesmind rushed forward with them with Jasana in her arms, but her mission was not to find the humans or help them. The only thing she cared about was that Tarrin was still
somewhere in the city, and she had to find him. And she wasn't alone. She heard Thean call out to the other Were-cats, who still stayed protectively near Kimmie, "Alright, everyone, Tarrin is out here somewhere. Let's find him!"

  Consciousness returned slowly, because he did not want to be awake. He did not want to remember. He did not want to feel. But consciousness was a dogged, determined opponent, forcing his mind back to coherence, forcing him to open his eyes, forcing him to sit up from where he lay.

  He looked around and blinked. The fires were all out. Puffs of smoke still wafted up from some remaining embers, but the fires were gone. Had he been out for so long? He looked up into the night sky, and saw that the moons had barely moved since the last time he saw them. Had he been out for an entire day? His body was still dreadfully weak; it was all he could do to rise up and look around. It certainly didn't feel like he'd been asleep an entire day, not as worn as he was.

  Movement. He saw movement to his right, and he turned to look. That look confused him. Over there were two adult humans, male and female, trying to pull a third human, which looked to be a child, out from under a charred piece of something. Both adults were nude, and the female looked torn between covering herself with her hands and helping to pull the child free. What were naked humans doing wandering out in this wasteland? He heard the male call out to the female, and it made his ears pick up.

  "Come on, Elenor!" he growled at her, in perfect Sulasian, with that twangy Torrian accent. "It's too heavy for me to get Trish out by myself!"