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.
GoTo: Title EoF
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 Imperial Palace 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 Imperial Palace. 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 massive 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.
He felt about to explode. Never had he tried this before, never without being nearly mindlessly out of control. The pain and the ecstacy merged into a riot of conflicting sensations within him, and the air shimmered with heat around his body. He stared into the face of his Goddess, and found the power staring back at him to be beyond mortal comprehension. He opened his eyes, eyes that blazed with a blinding white light, then he felt that he had taken all the power he could withstand. If he did not use it, and use it right now, it would Consume him.
The first weave was a weave of Air, with token flows from the other Spheres to grant his weaving the power of High Sorcery. It formed around his paw, a sudden bluish glow eclipsing the Magelight around him. And with a backhanded swipe of his paw, he unleashed it. A crescent of bluish magical power, a scythe of pure Air formed before him, racing away with the arc of his paw, moving faster than any human could run, moving so quickly that nobody had the time to duck. It expanded as it moved away from him, growing to fill the entire street by the time it reached the front gates of the Imperial Palace, at a level chest high to a man. It struck those majestic gates, and then it simply passed through.