Tarrin paused while the men quickly scrambled to obey the Lord General. The attack had no real sense to it. Did the Demons come here just to make him return, just to cause trouble? Where was Jenna? Was she alright? He cast out his senses into the Weave, and even that seemed to tire him. But he could feel her somewhere in the city, relatively stationary. The Weave around her showed no signs that she was doing anything, but it was shifting a little with her emotions. He could feel it clearly; Jenna was very angry. Something had happened out there, something to draw her out of the Tower, and then the Demons swarmed in while she was gone.
Wait. That was not right. The Demons showed no sign of using any kind of coherent battle strategy, but luring Jenna out of the Tower meant that there was a design behind things. What could be gained by getting Jenna out of the Tower? Tarrin mulled that over quickly, lowering his sword as he thought. Getting her power out was the first thing he saw. If Jenna had been here, the Demons would have been stopped almost before they could have gotten started. The Goddess would have used Jenna instead of him, and what was more, Jenna could have Circled with virtually everyone in the entire Tower, creating an awesome magical force that even a Demon would fear, a force that would have stopped the attack in its tracks.
Something a Demon would fear.
Jenna had been lured out of the Tower to prevent her from stopping the invasion. That much was plain. But why? The Demons out here didn't do anything but run around and try to kill people on the grounds. None of them he'd seen had tried to force their way into any of the buildings, and they'd had the chance to do it several times. Why come out here and attack men on the grounds when they went to all the trouble to pull Jenna off the grounds? They didn't do any lasting damage. The only thing they'd managed to do was bring him back to the Tower.
They were a diversion!
With an awful cold feeling in his stomach, Tarrin turned and bolted for the main Tower, but before he took more than a dozen steps, the Weave suddenly wrenched, wrenched with such a power that Tarrin felt it like a knife twisting inside him. There was a drastic, dreadful surge in its power, as if the entire Weave was trying to flow into one place.
And that place was in the Tower.
Jasana! Jasana was crossing over!
Only one thing could make her cross that line, to make her desperate enough to have to resort to Sorcery. She was in danger!
The Demons on the grounds had been a diversion! Their real target was Jasana!
Unable to Teleport or project, almost too tired to run, Tarrin still managed to dig as deep inside him as he could and summon up reserves from some unknown source, reserves tapped out of abject fear and concern for his daughter. It propelled him faster than any horse had ever run, and his mind raced even as a cold hand gripped his heart and squeezed it mercilessly. They'd distracted him and everyone else while someone or something else had snuck into the Tower and attacked his daughter! That was why none of the Demons tried to force their way into the Towers...they didn't want to interfere with what was happening inside! Tarrin endured the pain as he felt the Weave writhe and contract under his daughter's personal struggle, felt it rush into her like an avalanche unbidden, felt it seek to infuse her until her body literally exploded from the energy contained within. If she lost control and was Consumed, the explosion would kill everyone on the Grounds and bring the Towers down!
He didn't even bother with the door. He ran right through it, sending shards of wood flying in every direction as he plowed through the obstacle. He trampled some faceless person without even realizing, running the robed figure down without losing a single step. He felt the Weave reaching its crescendo as he reached the stairs, flying up them six and seven at a time, frantic to reach his daughter before she reached the moment of truth, to tell her what to do, to keep her from destroying herself. He abandoned running in circles and bounded up them in huge leaps, using the walls as springboards, taking entire floors in two vaults off the circular walls.
He reached their floor! He barrelled down the hallway madly, seeing the dead bodies of human servants lining the sides of the passage, trails of blood. Someone had attacked his family! He turned a corner and saw, to his horror, the door of Jesmind's apartment smashed in, with debris laying on the floor beyond the open doorway from what he could see. Where were Jesmind and Mist?
Jasana was infused as far as she could possibly be infused with the power of the Weave, far beyond the power he himself could hold. Even in his frenzy, in his terror at what was happening, he was awed by the absolute power contained within his daughter's tiny body. Such and incredible power! Almost there, almost there! If he thought it would do any good, he would have shouted, but he knew she wouldn't hear him. He was too late! Just a second too late! Jasana was already at the climax. If she didn't Transmute herself and do it now, she wasn't going to make it!
Think! he cast his thought frantically towards her. You've touched me, cub! Make yourself like what you've felt in me!
And she did. The power raging into her simply stopped, and then the power she contained turned inwards on her, sweeping through her as she Transmuted herself, altered her body so that it could withstand the destructive forces the magic brought to bear against her tiny body. Just like that, in the span of a second, it was over. She had used up all the power within her, and now she was isolated from the Weave until she learned once more how to come into touch with her powers.
For her, it was over. The Weave shuddered at Jasana's Transmutation, and then the entire thing seemed to thicken. It was the only explanation he could rationalize. The strands around them became thicker, stronger, if only by a negligible amount, every strand becoming a tiny bit more conducive to holding and transmitting magical power. The Goddess said that the Weave benefitted every time a Sorcerer crossed over; that had to be the effect.
But there was no relief in his daughter's survival. He reached the doorway and slid to a stop inside, certian that something dreadful had happened.
What graced his eyes was something that he would never, ever forget, ranking as the most horrid memory he would ever confront. The room had been destroyed in a savage fight, debris and pieces of furniture laying everywhere, and sprawled on the floor with the debris, laying in pools of their own blood, were Jesmind and Mist. Both had been slashed by some kind of edged weapon, and both were unnaturally pale, their breathing shallow and faltering. Across the room, holding both of his children in its arms, was a creature he had seen before. It was a Demon, a Demon with the upper body of a woman, the lower body of a snake, and six arms. He recognized this one; he knew her personally. This was the same Demon he had banished during the Battle of Suld. In her left arms, she held a limp, pallid Jasana, knocked out by her ordeal. In her right arms she held Eron, who was thrashing, hissing, spitting, gouging in vain at her ensnaring arms with his tiny claws, even biting at her. And in the left hand not holding Jasana, she held Jegojah's magical wounding sword.
In horror, he realized that she had broken in and used it on Jesmind and Mist. They would have ignored a weapon, and she used that against them to deal them incapacitating blows immediately. Tarrin had felt the pain-amplifying bite of that deadly weapon. And even now, the magic of the sword was keeping his mate and friend from regenerating, spilling their lifeblood out onto the floor.
I told you I'd repay you, her thought reached him. It was ecstatic, triumphant. She held up his two children and raised the sword when he took a step towards her, his ears laying back and his eyes igniting from within with the uholy greenish radiance that marked his anger. Internally, he had to crush the Cat in a vice-like grip to keep his powerful protective instincts from making him fling himself at the Demon. As long as she held that deadly blade to his children, he could not attack her. And she knew it, smiling viciously at him as her dead eyes burned with evil delight.
My Master wants the Firestaff, and you will deliver it to him, her thought touched him. You will do it to recover one of your children. This one, I think, she said, hefting J
asana. The other you can have now, as insurance you don't try to follow me.
Then, with deliberate slowness, her eyes boring into him with evil pleasure, she deliberately raised the sword and drew it across Eron's exposed neck, cutting his throat. The blood boiled from the ghastly wound, and Eron gurgled feebly as the Demon brutally tossed his body aside, where it crumpled to the floor with a quickly and horrifically expanding pool of blood forming around his head.
The enraged bellow that tore from him could not define the fury, the rage, the incredible pain and injury she had dealt to him with that one act. His claws came out and he coiled up to fall on her and tear her to tiny pieces, but the sword raised again and touched Jasana's neck. That made him freeze instantly, fear for his daughter preventing his rage from taking control of him.
You can chase me or try to save them, her thought echoed in his mind trimphantly. If you're fast enough, you may even save the boy-child's life, but I rather doubt it. Choose, Were-cat. Save one life or three. I leave it to you.
Then, her coils doubling over on themselves, she slithered backwards towards the balcony door. For an awful moment, Tarrin's rage nearly made him launch himself at her unprotected back as she turned around, but an image of Faalken's tomb stayed him instantly. He would not let his mate and son and Mist die over his need to kill that Demonic bitch for what she'd done! They had to keep Jasana alive, or they couldn't get the Firestaff from him! Save what he could, and leave recovering Jasana for after the others were saved!
Though it killed him, he made no move towards the marilith as she slithered out onto the balcony and then somehow went over the side. His lunge was instead to Eron, rolling him over and putting desperate hands on his neck, trying to stem the horrific flow of blood pouring out of the grisly wound. He was spent, utterly spent, and even as he desperately reached out to try to command his power of Sorcery, he knew that it was going to fail. Even as his son's skin turned chalky and the flow of blood pouring from the dreadful wound began to wane. Never before had he felt so powerless, not known what to do, not had someone to help him. He gave a strangling cry as he redoubled his efforts, terror and panic starting to overwhelm his rational attempts to exert his spent will against the Weave.
Calm down! the voice of the Goddess touched him, though her own voice was frantic. I can't do anything unless you calm down, kitten! Open yourself to me, quickly! There's no time!
Trying to calm down, trying to reign in the firestorm of emotion roaring through his mind, he put his paws on Eron's shoulders and tried to center himself. He knew he had to reach out to the Goddess as she reached out to him, and in their meeting he would become her instrument, but his eyes could only look at the deadly wound in his son's neck and the blood that was saturating the knees of his trousers.
It seemed an eternity, but then he finally felt her searching for him, reaching out for him. He rushed out to meet her, and in their touch he was again shunted off the the side as the awesome power of the Goddess reached directly into him, through him sweeping him up with it and joining his mind to hers. He could feel her near-panic, her fear and fury at what had happened, but she did not let it her affect her judgement. With her swift and sure manner, she wove the spell that Tarrin had improvised to defeat the killing magic of Jegojah's sword, wove it through him and into Eron, Mist, and Jesmind simultaneously, something he would not have been able to do. That was all she needed to do, all that needed to be done, and all that Tarrin's weary body could withstand as the regenerative powers of the Were-cats would kick in now that the magic defeating them had been neutralized.
As his eyesight failed and the Goddess quickly separated herself from him, he saw the terrible gash in his son's neck begin to close, and pink flush his chalky skin as his body's regeneration restored the blood spilled by Jegojah's sword. All he could feel was relief as he spiralled down into unthinking blackness, knowing that his son and the mothers of his children were going to live.
To: Title EoF
Chapter 12
The first thing he smelled was Jenna.
Her scent was saturating his nose, and he dimly realized as his mind clawed its way back out of the blackness that it was all over the bedding on which he was laying. The old smell came from the bedding, but there was also a fresh scent of her, mixing in his nose with the scents of Jesmind, Mist, Allia, Sarraya, and his son, Eron.
Comprehending that one scent made him snap immediately awake. Eron! The last thing he remembered was seeing his son's wound slowly began to close, and color start to bloom in his pale skin. Happening so fast that it made him a little dizzy, Tarrin's mind became completely alert and his eyes snapped open even as he sat up in the bed, fear clamping around his heart. Was Eron alright? Had he healed completely? Had the terrible wound had any lingering effects?
He was in Jenna's bedchamber. He knew that because her scent was everywhere, and the place fit his sister's personality. It was a fairly large room, filled with furniture that was both handsome to the eye and sturdy. Jenna was a farmgirl, and to her, durability was just as important as the way it looked. On a farm, getting the most out of something was very important. Before he could get more than the most cursory look around, he was buried by hugging arms. Jesmind and Mist had rushed forth to embrace him, and their scents in his nose was like the sweetest perfume. He held each of them tightly for a moment, then made them give over when Eron climbed into the bed. Tarrin hugged his son to him desperately, with trembling arms, unable to feel nothing except the relief that came with a parent's assurance that his child was well. He clasped Allia's hand as she greeted him, then sat sedately on the bed beside him as Mist and Jesmind continued to cling to him.
Still holding Eron tightly, who hugged him back just as intensely, he looked at Jesmind. His mate had tears standing in her eyes, and he could see the desperate, terrible feeling of loss that was raging inside her. It was inside him, too. He could see that she was trying to tell him what happened, but he remembered it all with an awful clarity.
"I'll get her back," he promised immediately, reaching out to her. She clutched his paw with both of hers, then burst into tears and buried her face against his shoulder.
"How long?" he asked, looking to Mist.
"You've been asleep for nearly a day," she answered. "Jenna wouldn't let anyone try to wake you," she said in an accusing manner.
"Jenna did the right thing," he admonished in a grim tone. "What happened after I went out?"
Jenna stepped forward with Dolanna and Allia. Sarraya, who was sitting on Jenna's shoulder, had to buzz her wings a little to keep from sliding off the young woman's narrow shoulder. "The Demon got off the grounds," she answered. "I'm sorry, Tarrin, but she had a sword to Jasana's throat. Nobody dared challenge her, so they had to let her go. They had no choice. She disappeared into thin air the instant she got on the other side of the fence."
"She's a Demon, Jenna," he said woodenly. "She can Teleport. She had to get off the grounds before she could do it. Now tell me how that Demon got inside the Tower. Didn't anyone notice something like that moving around?"
"We found how she did it," she said, holding up a strange hat. "This is magical. It changes the appearance of anyone who wears it. She got in hiding under an Illusion."
"How did it work on the grounds?" he asked quickly. "Wizard magic won't work here."
"This isn't Wizard magic, brother," she said. "It's a relic left behind from the Age of Power, like the cold metal in our cellar back home, and this one has weaves in it. It's an object of Sorcery."
Tarrin snorted, kicking himself. Of course it was Sorcery. Only Sorcerers could create Illusions. He fixed his eyes on the hat, and he could feel the weaves inside it.
"They found it in Jesmind's apartment," Jenna said. "It must have come off when she attacked."
"What's happened while I was asleep? And where were you, Jenna?" he demanded.
"I was up to my eyeballs in Demons," she snapped in reply. "I had to go out and stop another riot, but when I got the
re, I was suddenly swarmed over by a horde of Demons. It was all I could do to protect myself and as many as the rioters as I could. And we found that instigator," she said with a growl. "It was a cambisi!"
Almost immediately, the depth of the plan locked in his mind. "And I'll bet a Demon set the fire in the palace," he concluded emotionlessly.
"If they did, I couldn't find any evidence of it," Jenna answered. "They may have just taken advantage of the situation."
Still holding Eron, he patted Jesmind's shoulder comfortingly. "I need your strength right now, my mate," he told her in a calm, icy tone. "We can both fall apart after we get Jasana back."
Jesmind sniffled a few times, then pulled off his shoulder, her eyes haunted, but her expresson stony. "I'm sorry," she apologized in an emotionless manner, much like his own. "You're right. We'll have plenty of time for getting emotional after we get our daughter back."
He took her paw in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze. She gave him a wan smile, and he looked to Mist. "Where is Triana?"
"On the way here," Sarraya answered, flexing her wings a little and shifting in her seat on Jenna's shoulder. "She'll be here within the hour, I think. We weren't the only ones attacked, Tarrin," she reported, a little hesitantly. "Keritanima and the rest had to put down their own Demonic incursion."
Tarrin sensed her reluctance. "What happened? Was someone hurt?"
Sarraya lowered her eyes, her expression pensive. "I don't think you're ready to hear this, Tarrin," she warned.
"If you don't tell me now, while I'm too numb to react, you may not like what happens when you do," he warned her bluntly.
"Your grandfather is dead, Tarrin," she blurted. "They killed him when he tried to stop them from getting Jula. They all came after Jula like she was the only thing that mattered."
That was like a knife twisting in him, but it was lost in the weariness and emotional turmoil of knowing his daughter was in the clutches of a Demon. It was just one more on a growing list of reasons to avenge himself against that six-armed Demoness. More fuel for her funeral pyre.
Tarrin Kael Firestaff Collection Book 5 - Weavespinner by Fel © Page 62
