Tarrin didn't like this. Four men, who may not be men, and those Hellhounds to deal with as well. If that wasn't bad enough, he had Jula with him, and he'd have to worry about her safety. Trying to go around them wasn't an option; they were too far away, and could change their direction to intercept. That only left going forward, but the owners of those unnatural scents were in front of him, and they were an unknown enemy.
"Listen to me," he said in a quiet tone, his eyes igniting from within as he prepared to either fight or flee. "I'm going to lead them off. The first time you see an opening, run. Go back to Dolanna."
"I'm not leaving you!" she protested, her own eyes flaring into radiance, and she extended her claws.
"You stupid cub!" Tarrin said hotly, turning on Jula as the first of the four men hit the roof only one away from theirs. "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you!" Tarrin lunged forward as that first one crossed his roof and vaulted into the air to land on the roof Tarrin and Jula occupied. The move seemed to startle the airborne man, almost as much as when Tarrin reached the edge of the roof, turned his body sideways and put his arm straight out behind him, then whipped that arm over his body to impact the man in the shoulder just short of the edge of the roof. It was vast overhanded blow, instantly changing the man's momentum from forward to straight down, and it sent the man rocketing into the alley between the two buildings, smashing into a pile of old stones and debris with a loud crash. The other three skidded to a stop when they realized that Tarrin could prevent them from landing on the roof, looking between them. Tarrin saw that they all had exactly similar facial features; they were triplets. They had a handsome face with swarthy Arakite skin, black hair, and were tall and sleek. Their scents reached him, and they seemed human… almost. There was human in it, but there was also something else, something that seemed faintly similar to what he smelled off the Empress of Arak. A smell of wrongness, but nowhere near as strong as it was in her.
The three of them hesitated, and that turned out to be a fatal mistake. A sizzling blast of lightning issued forth from behind him, and it struck the one in the middle squarely in the chest. He was blown off his feet by the power of the magical assault, crashing to the roof as an ear-splitting boom of thunder rocked the neighborhood. Tarrin glanced behind him, and saw Jula, lightning crackling around her paws as she wove together the flows that generated lightning attacks, Air, Water, and Divine power, turn her stance and raise her paws against the one on her left. She was about to loose on him, but the one she'd struck bounced back to his feet, seemingly unharmed by her magical attack. A shadow appeared to his side, and to Tarrin's shock, the fourth man, his features identical to his companion's, vaulted from the ground just before him, holding a sword with a black blade.
He just barely managed to recognize the danger. He brought up an arm in time to deflect the slicing blade of that black sword, hitting his manacle as Tarrin's arm whipped up, parrying the blade high and away from him. The man's feet touched the roof, and Tarrin turned on him with shocking speed, reversing his arm and ripping his claws across the man's chest, a move that would have torn ribs out of a human. His claws sliced through the man's black doublet, but could not penetrate his skin. The physical force of the blow staggered the man back, making him tumble off the roof once again, but it did him no real harm.
Fear crept into him as he backed up from the edge of the roof, towards Jula, who looked on in shocked confusion. They couldn't be harmed! Tarrin's claws could hurt anything because he was a magical creature, but they had been repulsed by that strange near-human's skin! And Jula's Sorcery had done little more than blacken the man's shirt! Surely, the physical impact of the blow knocked him down, but it did no injury at all!
Tarrin stepped back in awe. They were Demons!
Demons! Beings not of this world, who could not be hurt by anything of this world! They were defenseless against these monsters! The only thing they could do was knock them down! Tarrin got in front of Jula protectively as the three on the other roof jumped over to theirs, and the fourth joined them a second later. They stood there, smiling malevontly as the howling bays of the Hellhounds picked up, chilling his soul.
In that instant, he realized one important truth. The Empress of Arak was a Demon. And since she was in such a position of power, these had to be under her control.
There was nothing he could do. They were invulnerable. There was no way to fight them. Flight was the only option, but they were very close, too close. And he couldn't get all four engaged at once. One of them would surely split off and chase Jula, who was tired from the long night. His own safety wasn't all that important, but Jula's safety was entirely another matter. She was his responsibility, his child, and he had to protect her.
The other three drew their black-bladed swords, and they slowly started walking towards them. They took their time, and the evil smiles on their faces told him they were enjoying the shock and fear of their quarry.
Physical impact. The Demon had been knocked down by impact, even if it did him no harm. Physical impact!
His green eyes changing to white, Tarrin opened himself to the Weave. Its power flooded into him, engulfed him, sought to devour him. Magelight appeared around his paws as he raised them, the power blinding him to the danger as he struggled to contain it, to focus it. He narrowed down his focus, found his way in that moment. It was not the mindless fury of rage that gave him the power to stand in the face of that tidal wave and control it, it was the very rational need to protect, to defend Jula, his child, against these deadly opponents. His protective nature exploded within him, granting him the power to control the raging torrent of power that infused him. With a primal scream, Tarrin wove together a weave of pure Air, a weave of monstrous proportions. And with a backhanded whip of his arm, he released it against the four Demons, a white arc of Sorcery that suddenly exploded outward, away from the Were-cats.
The result was a hammer's blow of solid Air, an arc of magical power that raced away from him at supersonic speeds, slashing across his assailants and catching them up with its power. The wave of Air grew as it moved away from him, travelling hundreds of spans in the blink of an eye, and behind it cracked an ear-shattering boom as the air was literally ripped asunder by the power of his magic. The buildings in front of him shuddered when the shockwave hit them, then simply disintegrated against the might of the spell. The debris and the Demons were picked up by the wave of air and sent flying forwards as the weave dissipated, showering the buildings beyond the terminus of the spell with huge chunks of masonry. The roof beneath them suddenly cracked from the extreme force applied against it as the weave expanded as it moved outward, and the entire building began to sway and crack, readying to collapse.
Unable to comprehend that, Tarrin wilted to the cracking rooftop, struggling to find a way to let go of the Weave. It built up inside him out of control, raging into him and through him, trying to burn him away as the entirety of the Weave attempted to flow into him. It was too much to even try to break free, the flow was too great to curtail. He was not truly in a rage, he didn't have that self-destructive, burning need to use the power, which was what gave him the power to control his magic. Almost without emotion, he realized that this time, he had gone too far. He couldn't let go of the Weave, and it had already filled him to a point where he felt his insides begin to burn. He couldn't form the concentration needed to use the power drowning him. And without being able to expend it, it would destroy him.
And then Sarraya was there. Her tiny body rising over him, she spread her arms out and used her Druidic powers. A scythe cut through the connection that existed between Tarrin and the Weave, severing the link through which the power flowed into him. The energy within him shuddered at that attack, and then it dissipated quickly, evaporating like smoke, generating a backlash that all but put him on his back. Tarrin panted heavily as the pain surged through him, knees and paws on the unstable roof, but then the searing throb began to ease as his regenerative powers healed him of the damage the Weave had done.