The doors to the Palace were closing. If they barred them, he would be slowed down gaining entry to the Palace, and time was everything. Shiika would free herself any time now, and he absolutely had to reach the book before she did.
With a snarl, Tarrin raised his sword and charged the two Cambions with blinding speed. They were confused, frightened, demoralized by Tarrin's display of magical might, and it was exactly what he hoped would happen. The chisel tip of his weapon leading, Tarrin homed in on the closer of the two, who managed to bring up his own weapon to defend himself. But a subtle twist of his blade knocked the Demon's weapon aside, and Tarrin slashed him as he ran by, literally at full speed, the weapon coming around and striking the second one before it could even respond, comprehend what had just occurred.
He left them at a full sprint towards the front doors of the Palace, doors that were beginning to close, not even bothering to look back. He had felt the blade bite. It had done what he hoped it would do.
Behind him, one Cambion head slowly tottered, then fell away from its body as it leaned backwards, then fell over. The other Cambion stood stock still, then crumpled to the ground with a wound that reached halfway into his body, carved through his left side.
But they were forgotten.
Tarrin raced across the carefully manicured lawns of the Palace, rushing towards those closing doors. They had looked out, they could see him coming, and they were hastening to close them and bar them as fast as they could. Sword held low in one paw, he got closer and closer as those huge metal doors swung inexorably together, and the rational part of him realized that they were going to close before he arrived. It would come down to whether he could reach them before they managed to bar them, bar them to where he would be forced to either find another way in, or risk using Sorcery to batter them down. Looking up, he saw an intricate circle of stained glass over the doors, an impressive design that was the seal of Yar Arak, a sun behind a scimitar. It was nearly thirty spans off the steps of the Palace.
It was his way in.
The men within the grand, luxuriously appointed entry chamber of the Palace worked feverishly. They had plans for such emergencies, but none of them had ever dreamed that they would be depended upon to protect the Palace from an actual assault. And from a single man! A man that could call lightning from the sky and kill entire companies with magic! They'd seen the Emperor's magicians use their magic, but never- never -with such power!
The heavy steel bar slammed home on the back side of the doors, sealing the invader out. The alarm bells within the palace were ringing, and the entrances would all be sealed before he could reach them. To get in, he'd have to scale a perfectly smooth wall to reach one of the high windows, a climb of nearly sixty spans. And do it with men on the grounds shooting at him with bows.
The bar was in place. The twenty men in the entrance hall all sighed in relief, reaching down and picking up weapons tossed aside to wrestle with the doors.
They all jumped in surprise when a loud crash erupted in the hall, and the sound caused them to look up just in time to see the invader come flying through the stained glass window over the door. In a sparkling kaleidascope of colors, colors scillinting off the glass shards illuminated by the sun behind him, the invader entered the Imperial Palace. He landed lightly among the tinkering and bouncing glass, his back to them, a tall, lethal looking figure holding a sword that was longer than some men were tall. The strange tail attached to his backside slashed only once, then he turned his head and looked at them through the corner of his eye. He turned around slowly, and they all knew fear. Not from his size, his inhuman appearance, but from the glowing green eyes and the expression of utter emotionless upon his face. This was a man who was not afraid to kill. He raised his sword slightly, and those eyes narrowed visibly, a snarl forming at the corner of his mouth.
The men rushed him desperately, attacking him in soundless unison. They all seemed to know that the only way to survive was to either take the invader down right there, or escape. And the only way to escape was past the invader. They fought with passion, with the strength that came with the knowledge that one's life depended upon his performance. They charged with desperate fervor.
They were mown like wheat by a scythe. Their weapons found him, pierced flesh, but they did nothing but irritate this strange invader. He slashed at them with that wicked sword, shearing men apart stroke by stroke, attacking with a strength that was more appropriate for a Troll than someone his size. What started as a sudden charge turned into a terrifying rout, as men tried desperately to get by the unstoppable invader and flee down the hallways of the Palace. Strangely enough, the creature let them go. But the slowest of them, the last, was grabbed by the back of his head and yanked back, claws digging into scalp and face, and the invader leaned down to the eye level of the smallish man he had captured.
"Where are the Empress' rooms?" he demanded in a cold tone. "Where would she keep something important to her?"
"I-I-go that way," he stammered, pointing towards the only hallway leading out of the foyer. "The West Wing!"
Absently, the invader broke the neck of his captive by picking him up off the ground by the head and shaking him sharply, just as country mothers wrung the necks of chickens destined for the stewpot. He tossed the body aside, then started into the cavernous hallways of the Imperial Palace.
He was at a serious disadvantage.
Fighting what became running skirmishes in the massive hallways of the Palace, Tarrin wandered more or less aimlessly towards the west. He had no idea where he was going, and he had to find that book before Shiika reached it. But she knew where to go, and he did not. He tried tracking her scent, but he couldn't find it anywhere he looked. It was as if she didn't even come into that part of the Palace. Judging by the size of the place, that wasn't entirely surprising. There were no Demon smells at all, just the smells of humans, the humans that maintained the cavernous place. He had no idea where to go, no idea of where to even start looking to track the Demoness' trail back to the book. If she even had been to where the book had been recently. She could have locked it away centuries ago, and he would have no way to find it by scent if she did so.
Finding the book on his own was an impossible task given the time he had, he knew that now. He knew that he had to find someone that knew where the book was, force him to take him to it. He doubted that any of the servants would know that. But one of the cambisi, Shiika's trusted servants, would.
So his mission was changed slightly. They had to be in here somewhere, he just had to find one of them.
He had to end this, and soon. His endurance was starting to be tested, and with it dimmed his strength. Weaving together the storm had taken all he had. If not for his anger, he would be nearly catatonic, laying out on the grounds. The only thing that kept him going was his rage, his anger, his need to do what he had to do. He had surpassed his normal limits long ago, and he had no idea what he was running on now.
Moving through the passages, Tarrin engaged the occasional guard or servant, killing anyone who crossed his path. Moments passed, scores of moments, and his searching for one of Shiika's Demonic children became more and more desperate, even as he grew more and more tired. Rage was starting to wane, replaced by fear, uncertainty, worry that he was going to fail. Shiika had to be free by now, she had to be coming, and he was running out of time. If she got to the book first, she could escape with it, and deny him his chance to pay her back for what she did to him. That was the only thing that kept him going now, the thought of facing that evil witch and knowing he had bested her, to decide whether she would live or die. It was the only thought he entertained for a good while, as he wandered along strangely decorated hallways, hallways that seemed eerily long, eerily empty.
Time. He was running out of time! More and more of it passed, until what felt like nearly an hour, beyond that, and he had accomplished nothing! He still roamed the halls like a wandering ghost, and often he came across a body he had killed, his own scent. He was running in circles! Shiika had to be free by now! She had to be free, and she had to be coming to get the book! He was going to fail! He could not fail!