The Questing Game

by James Galloway

  Everything that had happened had been....strange. First the Demons had attacked them in their new house, attacked them and subdued them with almost shameful ease. The females, the ones with wings, they had some sort of strange effect on the others. Allia had been ready to fight until she looked one of them in the eye, and then it was like a wool blanket had been laid over her will. The magical subdual of them was universal, none of them escaped it. The memory of what happened next was hazy, but she did remember being placed in some sort of bedchamber for a while, alone. Not a prison cell, not a torture chamber, but a rather nicely appointed bedchamber with a single door, whose only obvious magical defense was that she could not speak so long as she was within. There was absolutely no sound at all, a deafening silence that quite effectively prevented her from using her amulet to contact her brother or sister. They had even thought to provide food and drink, very well prepared food and chilled wine. That confused her more than anything else. The Demoness had captured them, but treated them like anything but prisoners. They had not even bothered to take their weapons.

  And then after spending a night in those gilded cells, they were tied up, put on a wagon, and now they were rolling along the streets of the city. She had no idea why they were being moved. It seemed illogical to run that risk. Tarrin was still out there, still free, and bringing them out of the Demoness' fortified Palace was a terrible risk. Tarrin commanded powerful magic, magic that he could use to locate his friends. At any moment, she expected him to explode through the canvas roof of the wagon, appear and do battle with the Cambion holding them.

  But he didn't appear.

  That worried her. After an entire night and morning, he should have managed to locate them. Why was he not coming to their rescue? They had been on the slow-moving wagon for nearly an hour. They had all heard the explosion, a sure sign that Tarrin was still alive, well, and present within the city, but there was no contact from him, no appearance to help them. Why? Surely he had not abandoned them. He had to know where she was, where they were, and he should be coming to aid them.

  Where was he?

  The wagon rambled to a stop. The Cambion looked out the flap in the canvas that hid the wagon's interior, then popped his head back in. Right before them, his features shifted, flowed, changed, going from an inhuman creature to a rather attractive Arakite man. "This is as far as we go," he announced. "I'm going to unload you, and you're going to do what I say. You're going to get onto a ship, and you're not going to argue about it. Understand?" he said, holding up his sword. He threw aside the flap of the wagon's canvas, and what was outside sent Jula into a fit of thrashing, screaming "no!" over and over again.

  It was a low-prowed scow, propelled by oars. And through one of those oarlocks she could see a man chained, holding onto his oar.

  It was a slaver.

  Jula thrashed and pulled, snapping the chains that held her, and then a low growl began to rise in her throat. Allia scrambled back fearfully. She had seen this happen before. The fear was getting the best of her, and she was just about to snap, go into a rage. And if that happened, none of them would be safe. But the Cambion advanced quickly and easily on her, slamming her on the side of the head with the hilt of his sword to quell her outburst. Her head snapped to the side, and she sagged slightly in her seat. But then she looked up at him, looked at him with eyes that were totally devoid of rational thought.

  His attempt to subdue her only succeeded in setting her off.

  With the sound of breaking chains, Jula exploded from her seat, grabbing the Cambion by the neck and catapulting both of them through the side of the wagon, making Phandebrass and Camara Tal duck wildly to avoid getting smashed between the pair and the side of the wagon. With the Cambion's eyes off of her, Allia squirmed her hands through the ropes that bound them with almost ridiculous ease, then drew a small, sharp knife and lunged for Dolanna. She cut the bonds that held her even as she pulled off her gag, as the sounds of Jula's frenzied assault on the Cambion raged just outside the wagon. Dolanna tore off her gag and drew her own small dagger, then worked on Dar's bonds as Allia moved to free Camara Tal. "We have to get Jula!" Dolanna ordered quickly as she snipped the leather cords holding Dar's hands. "Tarrin will not leave without her!"

  "How do you expect to calm her down, Dolanna?" Camara Tal asked acidly, turning to cut Phandebrass free as Allia opened the cage holding the mage's two drakes. They scrambled to Phandebrass immediately, huddling against him for comfort and reassurance after their harrowing captivity. "The only one that can calm her down is Tarrin!"

  There was a sudden commotion outside, and then things went eerily quiet. Dar jumped across the wagon to look out the hole made by their exit, and he suddenly began to laugh.

  "What is it, Dar? Is it Tarrin?" Dolanna asked.

  "I think you wouldn't confuse me with that cub if you could see me, Dolanna!" the voice of Triana replied to her question.

  They all stared in surprise. Triana! What was she doing here! And how did she find them?

  They piled out of the wagon quickly, looking around. They were on a large quay facing the sea, and the smell of it blew over the land. There were dock workers and sailors, but they had fled when Jula erupted out of the wagon with the Cambion. He was nowhere to be seen, but Triana had Jula by the scruff of her neck, holding tight to her as the smaller Were-cat squirmed helplessly against her, her shoulders heaving as she panted heavily. The men on the slaving ship stared in shock and surprise, then four of them made a mad scramble to raise their gangplank. Triana was just as tall, just as majestic, just as powerful as Allia remembered, the physical embodiment of strength and confidence, her handsome face looking down at the smaller friends with a slight smile disrupting the usual stony mask that she wore on her features. "Sarraya told me to get here fast. I never dreamed I'd see this."

  "Sarraya called you?"

  She shook her head. "Tarrin did, but Sarraya sent the message," she replied. "I wouldn't have burned so much magic getting here if it had been anyone else. Judging by what I was feeling from him through his bond, I realized that it was no game he was playing."

  "Where is my brother, brother's-mother Triana?" Allia asked immediately, concern in her eyes.

  "Right now, I don't know exactly," she replied soberly, pointing into the city with a clawed finger. "He's in that direction, and he's fuming mad. He's been brewing all night. Now I can see what got him all twisted up. Is this his mistake?" she asked, holding Jula up for them to see.

  "She is...a complication," Dolanna replied. "It is a very long story."

  "So this is what he wanted me to protect," she said to herself, holding the squirming Jula up to look at her. "She's a scrawny little thing, and she's just about half mad. Why should I bother?"

  "Protect?" Camara Tal asked. "What do you mean, old friend?"

  "Tarrin had Sarraya tell me to come, but this is why," she said, holding Jula up a bit more. "He wanted me to take care of her. Sarraya told me that she got the feeling that he didn't think he'd live to finish her training."

  They stared ather in silence for a moment, and Jula stopped fighting against Triana. "Umm....where am I?" she asked blearily, putting a paw delicately to the side of her head. "Tarrin?"

  "No, not Tarrin," Triana answered, letting her go. Jula stumbled slightly, then turned and whirled on Triana. But when she did, she came up short, staring at the majestically tall Were-cat matriarch with awe.

  "That's right, I'm nobody you want to upset," Triana said flatly. "Tarrin called me here to take care of you, if he doesn't make it back. And I'm nowhere near as gentle as him." She gave her a steady look. "You're weak-willed, female," she said shortly. "If you wish to survive, you must learn better control. What is your name?"

  "J-Jula," she said uncertainly, fidgeting under that powerful stare.

  For the first time ever, Allia saw anger creep into Triana's expression. She snapped her paw out and grabbed Jula by the neck, hauling her off the wharf and bringing her up to her eye leve
l. Jula grabbed at the powerful paw holding her with sudden terror in her eyes, but could not budge Triana's vice-like hold on her. "Dolanna, she's the same one?" she asked hotly, looking at the Sorceress.

  "She is, Triana, but Tarrin has forgiven her for what she did to him," Dolanna replied. "He took her as his bond-child instead of killing her."

  Triana looked at her for a long moment, then she actually laughed. "He did? I swear, Dolanna, I never thought he'd do something like that. First Mist opens up, now Tarrin is forgiving hated enemies? What is happening to us?" she laughed, letting Jula go abruptly. "But if he could do something like that, then there's more hope for him than I first thought," she said seriously. "It shows he finally realizes he doesn't have to be as hard as he thought he had to be to stave off the madness."

  She looked down at Jula with hard eyes. "Until Tarrin comes back for you, cub, you are mine," she said fiercely. "Tarrin is my son, so that makes you something of my grandchild. You will only disobey me once. I am not half as soft as he is. Do you understand me?"

  Jula could not face the power that Triana brought to bear against her, a power of stance, of expression, a near aura of unshakable strength that Triana gave off at all times, a sense that she was absolutely invulnerable. It had the power to shake nearly anyone, and the soft-willed Jula caved in instantly to that demonstration of force. Jula averted her eyes and lowered her head, something of a sign of submission among Were-cats, Allia had noticed. Triana brushed her tawny hair out of her face absently, then looked at Camara Tal. "Sarraya is trying to find Tarrin," she said. "Until then, we have to get out of the city."

  "Why?" Allia demanded. "I am not leaving my brother alone!"

  "You'll do it because I told you to do it," Triana snapped at her, and even Allia could not face her overwhelming power with steady eyes. "Tarrin told Sarraya to have me get all of you out of the city. I think he doesn't want you underfoot for now, and I agree. She told me that he's got some kind of plan to get you all back, and it involves mass destruction. He doesn't want you getting caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. If he starts worrying about you, then it may cost him when his mind is supposed to be on something else. But you'd better contact him, Selani. At least let him know you're all safe."

  She nodded, grabbing her ivory amulet immediately. "Tarrin," she called. "Tarrin, answer me. Answer! Tarrin!" There was silence. "Tarrin! Answer!"

  They all stared at Allia's amulet. "He's still alive," Triana grunted. "And he's still hopping mad. Allia, tell him you're alright and where we are."

  Allia nodded. "My brother, we are all safe! Triana has come, and we are all safe! We are on the city's docks. Tarrin, you do not have to rescue us!"

  There was no reply.

  "Stop this, my brother!" Allia snapped. "We are safe! Answer me, let me know you are well!"

  "Maybe he's not answering because he can't," Dar offered. "Maybe he's busy."

  "The book," Dolanna breathed. "Allia, he is after the Book of Ages! He will not leave this city without it!"

  "Then don't do it again," Triana grunted. "If he's trying to sneak around, you just gave him away. He most likely heard you. Let him contact you." She glanced at Jula, who couldn't take her eyes off of the tall Were-cat matriarch. "Is that fat circus master still in port, Dolanna?" she asked. "I don't want this cub around people who don't have experience with edgy Were-cats. At least Renoit's people know what to do."

  "He should be, Triana," Dolanna replied. "Today is the last day of the festival, so it is his last day to perform. He will perform this morning and afternoon, then pack his tents and be gone by the morning tides."

  "Then let's go hitch a ride," she ordered.

  "His ship is berthed on the west side of the city," Dolanna told her. "I remember where it is."

  "Then lead on," she ordered.

  Allia fell in beside Dar, her mind on her brother. He was out there, alone, and he was in a rage. The explosion was him, she knew it, unleashing his fury on the unaware. It was why he did not come for them. He had been trying to reach them, and did not have the rational mind to use his magic to locate them. That, she could understand. But why the rejection? Why would he not answer her! It tore at her to know that he was out there, alone, facing opponents against which he had no chance. But he was doing it anyway, doing it for his mission, doing it in obedience to the Goddess of the Sorcerers. He was here for the Book of Ages, and it had cost him too much to abandon it now. Faalken's death, the trials and pains he had suffered in pursuit of that book, it would all be meaningless if he gave over on his goal now. And knowing her brother, revenge was also high in the order of things. He would not allow the Demoness to get away with what she did. It chafed at her that she was not with him, at her rightful place at his side, facing the danger together.

  But he was alone, facing beings against which he had no power to harm. It was insane for him to take them on, but he was going to do it. He was doing it.

  Sighing, Allia gave out two little silent prayers. One to Fara'Nae, the Holy Mother, goddess of the Selani, a prayer that her grace be upon him. And the second was to the other goddess that influenced her life, the enigmatic Goddess of the Weave, praying that she would watch over Tarrin and protect him in his dangerous undertaking.

  There was little more she could do.

  Chapter 28

  They fled from him like frightened rabbits.

  Running with a calm demeanor, his mind completely focused on what he had to do, Tarrin raced through the streets of Dala Yar Arak, the massive spires of the ImperialPalace before him, getting closer with every step. His focus, his attention, the very core of his being was focused utterly on those golden domes, and his anger fueled him, pushed him, coaxed him along. He was still completely furious, but his rage had become a tight, razor's edge of purpose, giving him the strength and determination to succeed. Human mind and Were fury were joined to a common purpose, a purpose that had a name, a purpose that he could see before him.

  He had a pretty good idea of what was waiting for him. He knew what challenges stood between him and the Book of Ages. He knew that Shiika would free herself from the rubble, and she would come to face him. He wanted it, he yearned for it, but he wanted to face her after he had gotten the book, so there would be no possible hangups between him and her. When he had the book, her life was forfeit. He wanted to find it on his own, so he wouldn't have to bargain her life for it. He knew she was telling the truth when she said she freed his friends and family. He just knew. So they were not a stumbling block before him. They were out in the city somewhere, hopefully nowhere near the ImperialPalace. Hopefully they were out of danger.

  Turning a corner, almost negligently smashing the back of his paw into the flank of a horse pulling a cart, killing the beast to keep it from getting in his way, he continued to run along the streets, as the citizens scattered before him in terror. He had already literally trampled a few of the slower or less aware pedestrians underfoot. He did not weave through traffic, he did not go around obstacles. Anything too large to go through was jumped over. He did not deviate a finger from his path, no matter who or what he had to run over. He would have gone over the rooftops, but the human part of him knew that they would expect that, and he would be easily spotted without buildings to shelter his approach. He knew that they knew he was coming. They would be waiting for him.

  And it did not frighten him.

  The massive gates of the Imperial Palace loomed before him at the very end of the wide avenue, some half a longspan distant. He was nearly there. He already had a plan, a very clever plan to remove most of the advantages that his opponents would enjoy. It was risky, a terrible gamble, but it was worth it if it worked the way he hoped that it would. He didn't know if he had the power to do it, but he would try. And if he failed, then he could always rely on his Were instincts and advantages to get him through. They almost never failed him.

  He could see them now. Many figures, all wearing armor, the Imperial Guard, standing at the massiv
e bronze gates leading into the Imperial Palace, all of them armed. How many were human and how many were not was the question. A question that he hoped would be answered before he set foot on the Palace grounds. Jumping over a stopped cart, putting his foot on the head of the horse drawing it and using it as a stepping stone back to the ground, he moved closer and closer to his goal, knowing that where one goal was complete, another would replace it. Reach the Palace. Subdue the guards and gain entry. Cross the grounds and get into the Palace itself. Find the book while keeping the internal guards and nasties off his back. Find the book.

  Find the book.

  After that was done, move to a place where Shiika would come to him, and then pay her back for what she did to him.

  It was a simple plan, but it had many parts. And the first major obstacle loomed before him, a pair of massive bronze gates nearly sixty spans high, their polished bars showing him the force with which he had to contend.

  Suddenly, Tarrin skidded to a stop, just as they began to point at him. He was about two hundred spans from the gate. He was close enough.

  It was time to see just how powerful he really was.

  Closing his eyes, raising his head to the sky, feeling the sun on his face, Tarrin opened himself to the Weave. He did it utterly, without constraint, without limitations, seeking out its power and attempting to join with it as he had never done before. The Weave seemed to shudder momentarily, then its power roared into him like a tidal wave, an inferno of sweet power that both caused his soul to soar and threatened to incinerate him in the span of a heartbeat. His body exploded into the radiance of Magelight, the visible sign that a Sorcerer had made contact with High Sorcery, the telltale signal to those within that the distant invader was about to unleash a magical attack.