The Questing Game f-2

by James Galloway

  Tarrin glanced back quickly. Faalken was standing between the Doomwalker and Dolanna and Dar, blocking any attempt to get at them, and Phandebrass had maneuvered to join the two Sorcerers. Dolanna and Dar had their eyes closed, and it was obvious that they were circling, joining their powers so their magic would be stronger than if they worked seperately. Spectators had gathered at a safe distance, watching the fight with morbid curiosity. After that quick assessment, he smashed his staff into the side of Jegojah's face from his weak side, sending the Doomwalker flying, landing heavily on the street several spans to the side. He made sure to send it away from the magicians, keeping them and their power out of Jegojah's reach.

  Jegojah regained its feet quickly. " Aruja ne!" it boomed loudly, then it reached down and punched its fist into the ground. Tarrin gripped his staff nervously, but nothing happened. At first. Around the Doomwalker, the ground began to shift, then it began to move. Skeletal hands erupted from the ground around it, and four skeletal beings, all wearing rusted armor and carrying badly rusted swords, climbed out of the earth.

  It had summoned reinforcements!

  "In the name of Neme, Goddess of the Amazons, I abjure ye, creations of darkness!" Camara Tal suddenly boomed, holding up her glowing amulet. "Return to the earth whence ye came!"

  Tarrin glanced at her in confusion, but what was more confusing was that her loud command worked. The four skeletal beings seemed to shudder slightly, then they just fell apart, piles of bones and rusted metal.

  Jegojah glared at the Amazon, holding up its hand at her. A blinding bolt of lightning erupted from its hand, sizzling across the space between them, and it struck her right in the chest. She was catapulted backwards heavily, landing on her back, where she laid still, smoke wafting up from her chest. He could see that she was still breathing, still breathing, and that averted a sudden powerful urge to enter a rage and go after the Doomwalker. His anger rose several notches at seeing Camara Tal hurt, but she wasn't dead. Regardless of that, it was going to pay for injuring his friends!

  With a gutteral shout, Tarrin dashed the distance between them and slammed into its side before it could turn that lightning on him. It staggered back, and he punched it dead in the face. He punched it again, again, and yet again, snapping its head back, then he grabbed it by the free hand and turned his back, then whipped it over his shoulder in an Ungardt arm toss, smashing it into the ground. It tried to stab him from the ground, but he slid around it and drove his padded foot into its breastplate, punching a deep dent into it, but it seemed unmoved by the assault. It slashed its sword across his leg, opening a long wound that bled profusely. The pain only intensified Tarrin's anger even more, and with a savage snarl, he brought his foot down right on the Doomwalker's head, crushing its face and making its body convulse sharply.

  Tarrin staggered back as the sword moved again, and to his horror, the Doomwalker's face simply repaired itself. It was regenerating, the same way he did! It had never done that before! It was the earth. It was standing on the earth, and it was drawing the energy to heal itself, just as Phandebrass said! It returned to its feet and brandished its sword at him, grinning evilly from a restored face.

  What were Dolanna and Dar doing?

  He found out. He felt them release a weave, a very strong weave. The ground around them suddenly began to shimmer, and then it ceased. The Doomwalker looked surprised, then it frowned deeply. What had they done? Did they try to leech the earth of organic material, as Sarraya was supposed to do before the Doomwalker knocked her out of the fight? The Doomwalker immediately turned in Dolanna's direction, but Tarrin intercepted it, forcing it to abandon getting at his vulnerable friends and making it fight, fight him. Allia joined with him once again, and they pressed the Doomwalker mercilessly. Tarrin ripped a huge chunk of flesh out of its neck with his claws, and he saw that thought it did start to mend, it did so slowly. They had at least weakened the Doomwalker with their Sorcery! They continued to press it, but the Doomwalker seemed not as confused this time. Its sword moved with certainty and speed, moving precisely to counter their harmonious attack. It was starting to figure them out. Allia changed tactics, her hands still burning with Sorcerer's fire, darting back and letting Tarrin square off against Jegojah, then striking him from the flank. It turned to deal with her, but she back off again, forcing it to deal with Tarrin's powerful staff, working her way around it to strike at it from behind. Tarrin attacked with a series of complicated high-low sweeps with his staff, an intricate series he had used against the Doomwalker before, a series it had defeated every time. He knew it would defeat the attacks, but it was a very complex defense that would absorb all of the Doomwalker's attention and give his sister the time she needed to get into position.

  She struck like a viper just as Jegojah parried a low sweep from Tarrin's staff. Fiery hand leading, she came in high, but to Tarrin's shock, the Doomwalker twisted inhumanly with its sword leading, trying to cut Allia in half. She saw it coming and twisted in midair, but it wasn't enough. The blade of Jegojah's sword cut a deep line across her ribs, just under her right breast. Allia hissed with pain and staggered backwards as soon as her feet hit the ground, hunching over the deep cut in her side and chest, backing away quickly to prevent it from finishing her off. Tarrin's rage quadrupled at that sight. He blocked the Doomwalker from pursuing his sister, eyes burning with their green fire and attacking the Doomwalker with savage, mindless fury, forcing it to give ground to him, to get distance between it and Allia. He didn't see that he was backing Jegojah up right towards Dolanna, Phandebrass, and Dar, and Faalken lunged forward as the Doomwalker approached, to give the Doomwalker something else to worry about.

  Faalken hit it from surprise, his magical weapon ripping a huge hole in its breastplate as he hit it from the flank. It staggered only one step, moving right into the path of a searing blast of fire that erupted from Dolanna's and Dar's slender hands, fire that engulfed the undead warrior, licked at it, clung to its form like a cloak and tried to burn it to ash. The Knight and Sorceress had worked together for a long time, and he realized that Faalken had knocked the Doomwalker into a position where Dolanna and Dar, linked into a circle, could hit it with Sorcery without endangering anyone else. Tarrin recoiled from that magical fire instinctively, feeling its searing heat and nearly getting burned himself by it as it flared into being around the Doomwalker.

  "Ye friends, they only delay the inevitable, yes!" Jegojah screamed with a horrid cackle, pushing its hands to the sides. The move caused the fire around it to blow outwards, winking out and leaving a seemingly unscathed Doomwalker standing there with an evil grin on its face. Tarrin backed up a couple more steps as the fire swept in his direction, but it dissipated before it reached him. Faalken simply covered his face with his armored forearm and allowed the licks of flame to pass over him harmlessly. The disruption of their Sorcery made Dolanna and Dar stagger backwards, Dar falling back on his backside as Dolanna put a hand to her head woozily. That smile didn't last when Faalken stabbed it right in the back of the head from behind, splitting its face as the blade erupted from right between its eyes. He kicked the Doomwalker forward, off his blade, but the monster didn't fall. It only turned on the Knight with a leery grin, as the hole in its head mended itself before their eyes, albeit slowly.

  "Your sword, even it can't hurt Jegojah when Jegojah stands on earth," it said tauntingly, raising its sword against the Knight with deft speed.

  Anger and fear mingling within him, Tarrin turned and lunged towards the battling pair. He was only a few paces away, but those few paces were an eternity to the two armored adversaries, who had engaged one another. Faalken was one of the best Knights, grizzled, experienced, skilled, and he gave the Doomwalker a serious challenge. Swords struck one another with dizzying speed and sharp ringing as the pair duelled, trading blows back and forth. But it was clear to everyone that Faalken was incapable of dealing with the Doomwalker's inhuman strength. Jegojah's attacks drove the Knight's sword wider and wider
as its superior strength overpowered its human foe. Faalken seemed to understand what the Doomwalker was doing, letting it pull his weapon wide and out of position, until the creature feinted a diagonal slash towards his sword arm, then reversed and tried to take Faalken apart at the shoulder. The Knight twisted around the blow with surprising agility for someone encased in steel, but the edge of the sword bit on the Knight's breastplate and cut a shear all the way to the stomach. Faalken retaliated with an underhanded thrust to the belly, driving his sword into Jegojah's abdomen, sending the tip through the back of its armor. It was a subtle, exceptional move, a move that would have ended any other battle. But the Doomwalker seemed to be completely unphased by the sword rammed through its stomach, a magical blade that should have done it harm. It turned its sword and moved to do the same thing, impale Faalken on its blade.

  But then Tarrin was there. With a loud, furious scream, Tarrin struck the Doomwalker dead in the face with his staff, snapping the head around, knocking it to the side. Faalken's sword came out of it, the Knight not letting go as it wrested aside, and Tarrin hit it again, again, yet again with his staff, then reared up and drove all five claws of his foot up under the chin of the Doomwalker in the standing split-kick that Allia had taught him. Where his staff couldn't hurt it, his claws could, lifting the Doomwalker off its feet and sending it a few spans backwards and up, until it landed heavily on the back of its neck.

  Tarrin felt furious heat under his feet. He looked down, and stared in shock. The ground was turning into glass! He looked up, and saw Phandebrass chanting loudly in a discordant language, throwing sand onto the ground and continuing to chant. The circle of hot glass expanded around them, consuming the ground under the still-dazed Camara Tal and Allia, under Dolanna and Dar, then under the mage himself.

  "Now, lad, before it breaks the glass!" Phandebrass screamed.

  "Faalken!" Dolanna cried with ominous concern. Tarrin glanced back and saw Faalken sagging to the ground slowly.

  Blood was pouring from the sheared slash in his breastplate.

  The sight of his good friend injured, the sight of a friend getting hurt because of him, was all it took. Throwing the staff aside, the Cat rushing into him and filling him with primal rage, Tarrin attacked the recovering Doomwalker with wild abandon. Claws ripped and slashed, pummeling the kneeling foe mercilessly as the enraged Were-cat unleashed his full fury on the shaken opponent. The Doomwalker attempted to stab him with its sword, but Tarrin simply caught the blade in a paw, cutting it deeply, then literally ripped it out of the emaciated hand and tossed it aside. Still screaming in a mindless fury, he continued to rip the Doomwalker apart with his bare claws, sending gray flesh and bone flying away from him with every swipe of his claws. He heard something crack, and then something hit him hard just under the ribs, sending him off his feet and tumbling through the air, to land lightly on his feet several spans away.

  Jegojah had punched through the glass. The rips and tears in its body were quickly healing over now that it was back in contact with the earth. Tarrin panted as he tried to get the air back into his lungs, blown out by the force of the blow inflicted on his ribs by the Doomwalker's other hand, but it only intensified his fury. Jegojah raised his hands to point at Tarrin, but the Cat remembered what that meant. He waited til the last second, til the ozone smell filled the air, and then he leaped into the air, leaped clear as a brilliant bolt of lighting blasted through the air beneath him, striking a tent behind him and causing it to burst into flame. Tarrin's paws were reaching for the Doomwalker as he soared towards it, but it caught his wrists and brought him to a stop just in front of it. Tarrin dug his claws into the glass beneath and pushed with all his might against his undead enemy, eyes boring into it and fangs bared in a vicious snarl. He pushed his claws towards that skeletal, leering face, pushed them towards the object of his explosive fury.

  "The human, he is mortally wounded," the Doomwalker hissed at him in a low tone, a tone of mocking. "Ye magic, where is it to heal him, yes? Ye can try to rip me apart, or the human, ye can heal him, yes. Which will it be, Were-cat?"

  Tarrin, the Cat, only glared at it more furiously and redoubled its resolve to destroy it.

  "Which will be next, Were-cat?" it taunted. "The Amazon, yes? Maybe the Sorceress? Perhaps the Selani wench."

  With a vicious shriek, Tarrin exploded against the Doomwalker's strength, driving its arms back. Stark hatred burned inside him, burned against anyone who would threaten his sister. Hatred that fueled him, drove him, demanded that he destroy the Doomwalker, and do it utterly. But it held fast against him, hands crushing his wrists, causing pain that Tarrin could no longer feel. But no matter how much he pushed, the superior strength of the Doomwalker, fueled by its magical connection to the earth, could not be overmatched.

  The Cat could not overpower it. But the Cat could overwhelm it. Overwhelm it and destroy it. It knew what to do. The human wizard had explained it to Tarrin, and it was something that the Cat remembered.

  Eyes burning a bright green in fury, that green suddenly blazed into an incandescent white, a light of painful intensity that illuminated the Doomwalker's faced, bathed it in the light of doom. It seemed to sense that it had crossed a line that it should not have crossed, that it had sent Tarrin from the the fury of a rage into the dark pit of total maniacal bloodlust. A scream issued forth from the Were-cat, a sound of pure, unmitigated hatred, a sound that did not even remotely contain rational thought.

  Tarrin's body exploded into a brilliant, incandescent aura of Magelight, fingers feathering from him as he reached out with coiled tendrils of the seven spheres. They sought out strands, and when they touched them, he snapped them, causing them to form into new strands. A concentrated web of magical power formed around him, with the Were-cat at its nucleus. Still being held by the Doomwalker, the Were-cat opened himself completely and utterly to the power of the Weave, letting it fill him, suffuse him, sweep him up in its ecstatic depths and drown him in the rapture of its power. He drained the Weave of its energy all around him, bringing it into him, into a body that was never meant to contain such incredible power. But that power was held for only a brief moment, long enough to form it into a titanic weave consisting mostly of Mind and Divine energy, with only token flows of other spheres to charge the weave with the power of High Sorcery.

  Tarrin released that weave against the Doomwalker's body, filling it with every iota of the power he had gathered within him, utterly draining him of everything he had. It entered the dead shell and infused it, charged it with a magical force it could not possibly hope to contain. Jegojah's body suddenly began to glow, and cracks formed in its gray, pallid skin, beneath which pulsed a blazing incadescence that seared the eyes. The Doomwalker fought against his magic with its own, but it was like a mosquito challenging an eagle. It tried to pull away, but Tarrin grabbed it by it hands and held onto it, held it in a crushing grip that doomed it. Those cracks widened, split, crisscrossing the entire body, until that material form achieved the maximum potential of energy it could hold. And even still Tarrin poured magical power into it, breaking that ultimate threshold.

  The body held by the Were-cat shuddered only once, and then it detonated in a blinding flash of fire and light, generating an ear-splitting BOOM that echoed from the city walls. It knocked everyone but Tarrin off their feet for hundreds of spans in every direction, who was shielded from the explosive force by the power of his own Sorcery, the ghostly aura of wispy light that shimmered around him. Tents uprooted and blew away by the power of the explosion, buildings shuddered and glass windows shattered, and a cloud of smoke and dust was sent high, high into the air.

  When the smoke cleared from around him, Tarrin stood blankly, standing before a smoking crater in the hard packed street.

  The Were-cat sagged to the ground, still connected to the Weave. Release. It had to release the Weave, or he would be destroyed. Gritting his teeth, he severed himself from the Weave, taking advantage of the fact that the spell he
had woven had completely drained him to the point where the power couldn't resist being stopped.

  The backlash blew at his clothes, pushing them away from him, sent a shockwave away from him as he cut himself off from the Weave, ripped an avalanche of pain through him that shocked him back to his senses. Sagging to his paws and knees, Tarrin sucked in air as fast as he could draw it into his lungs, feeling the searing pain ripple through him, feeling like he'd been boiled in his own pelt. Memory of it all was scattered in his mind, with only nightmarish images of the Doomwalker, Sarraya being struck by the shield, of seeing Allia and Camara Tal laying motionless on the ground. Of Faalken-

  Faalken!

  Tarrin pulled his head up, looking towards the Knight. Dolanna and Dar had the burly Knight on his back on the ground. Camara Tal was standing over him, her halter burned in half and leaving her bare from the waist up, but she had no blackened wound in her chest. She had healed herself. She had her amulet in hand, but her head was bowed. Both her hands were bloody. He saw with cold horror the huge pool of blood that was around the Knight, covering his sheared armor, soaking into the dirt and into the robes that Dolanna and Dar were wearing.