He was out of time!
A man wearing a yellow robe moved out from a corner and pointed at him, chanting in the discordant language of Wizard magic, and a black ray of utter lightlessness erupted from his hand, rushing at Tarrin. It struck his invisible Ward against magic and faltered, fizzling out more than a span before reaching him. Tarrin turned on that figure instantly, covering the distance between them in five ground-eating strides, bulling the man to the ground and holding a paw over his neck. "Where are the cambisi?" he snapped at the man, his eyes flaring suddenly in renewed anger. This Wizard was one of hers, but Wizards were smart fellows, and he may know something helpful. "Where are the Empress' private rooms? Where would she put something she didn't want found?"
"I am not in her Majesty's graces," the man said fearfully. "I am but a humble servant."
"Wrong answer," he hissed, venting his frustration on the man by breaking his neck in his powerful grip.
My, look what dragged in the cat, came a strange mental voice, lightly amused.
Tarrin turned and found himself facing the brunette female, the one that had rammed him. She held her black-bladed sword lightly in her hand, and her wings shivered in anticipation in the wide hallway. She gave him a light, almost amused look. I'm impressed you got this far. You must be very tired, with all the fireworks I saw outside. And all the blood all over you.
"Not tired enough for you," Tarrin snarled, raising his sword.
At first, she just stood there, but then her eyes widened in shock, and she took a step back from him in surprise. He had the feeling that she had probably just tried to use some kind of magic, and it had failed. She raised her sword as he rushed in on her, and that first parried blow told her who was going to win this fight. She may be a Demon, but she did not have his inhuman strength. Without her magic, she was just was weak as a human, with only her Demonic invulnerability to protect her. A protection she did not enjoy against Tarrin's otherworldly sword. In seconds, he had her sword out wide, had her scrambling backwards, desperately evading his sword. She had to know it was deadly to her for her to act that way. He pressed her even harder, sweeping the sword back and forth like it was made of paper, knocking her out of position, then slashed her across her sword arm. She cried out aloud in pain, her arm shuddering from the slash to her upper arm, dropping her sword from momentarily nerveless fingers. Black blood flowed from the wound, and she grabbed at her arm with her free hand out of reflex, backing away from him with very real terror in her eyes.
He grabbed her by the neck and hauled her off her feet, slamming her into a nearby wall, then he placed the chisel tip of his sword right between her breasts, pressing on the leather bustier she wore to keep her wings free. Her eyes were wide and her chin quivered, holding onto his wrist with one hand as the other hung nervelessly at her side. "I'm only going to say this once," Tarrin hissed at her. "Take me to the book, or I'll pin you to this wall!"
I-I'll do anything! she replied desperately. Anything for my life!
Tarrin yanked her off the wall, spinning her around and grabbing her by the joint of her wing, then stuck the point of his sword in her back. "March," he growled at her. "And if you call up any of your brothers and sisters, they'll be the first to see you die."
She nodded fervently, holding her injured arm, cradling it as the fingers on that wounded arm began to twitch. She quickly and fearfully led him along passageways, down two flights of steps, and entering stone-walled halls that had to be underground. The air was cool, strangely dank, and the smells of the Demons' scents became strong there. This was where they stayed. There were other smells, even stranger ones, scents of the Hellhounds and even other, more exotic smells. Smells he didn't think he wanted identified. He led the Demon female before him, his every sense alive and scanning, searching for any enemies, any ambushes, anything out of place. But there were none. The passageways were empty, only the distant sounds with some unidentifiable source reaching them in the way of echos. The female led him down yet another staircase, to an unlit passage that ran off from the staircase, its upper corners decorated with cobwebs. There's a door at the end of the passage, she called mentally. It's the only door on this level. Mother keeps the book there. I'm not supposed to know about it. She keeps it a secret, even from us. Now let me go!
"Not until I have it in my paws," he hissed in reply.
She tensed up. No! It's guarded! It will kill me! I showed you where it is, so let me go!
"Guarded by what?"
A Demon, she replied. A creature from the Lower Worlds, who owes my mother a favor. It will appear to attack anyone who enters the room!
"You're not supposed to know about it, but you know about its guard?" he asked in a grim tone. "Are you lying to me, Demon?"
"No!" she finally said aloud, in a surprisingly sweet voice. "We all know about the guard to keep us from looking into places she didn't want us to look, but she never told us where the book is!"
He was uncertain. Was she lying? Had his idea to use one of them to lead him to the book led him into a trap?
When he was confused, he knew who to ask. The one who always made things clear.
"Goddess, is she telling the truth?" he asked suddenly.
She is, on both counts, the Goddess immediately replied. The Demon in his paw suddenly gasped, looking at the ceiling in confusion. Be very careful, my kitten! What lies beyond that door will make Shiika look like the one you hold in your hand! Shiika is powerful, but among the elite of Demonkind, she is considered a being of minor ability!
Tarrin looked at the door, fear rising inside him. What was beyond that door was something he was better off not seeing. But he had no choice. The Book of Ages was behind that door, and he had to get it. He just had to.
He had no choice.
Don't kill her, my kitten, the voice of the Goddess chimed when he pulled the sword from the Demon's back, readying to drive it through her. There is no need. She will not harm you now. I will not command you as your Goddess, I will ask you as a friend. Leave her be.
Bowing his head, he let go of her. Even a request from the Goddess was a command to him. He would never disobey her, no matter how much she gave him the opportunity. He couldn't. His anger burned to spit the wench, to make Shiika pay for humiliating him, for attacking him, but he would obey his Goddess. Not even his anger was stronger than his obedience. The female wasted no time in scrambling past him, running for the stairs, fleeing from him. But he let her go.
He turned to the door, taking a deep breath. That door represented everything. Everything he had gone through to get to that point, the pain, the loss of Faalken, the fear and hate and sadness and worry. They were about to end. Beyond that door was his goal, his end, the last obstacle. The end of the Questing Game stood beyond that door. But there was one more challenge to face, one more battle to fight. And from the sound of it, it would be the fight of his life. A fight for his life, where absolutely everything hung in the balance.
The game would end, one way or another. Either he would succeed and gain the book, or he would die at the hands of the monster that defended it. One way or another, it was about to end.
He knew fear. He had faced Shiika, and he had lost. This Demon was supposedly even more powerful than she was. But his fear was not as strong as his sense of duty, his obedience. He had lost Faalken to this mad quest, and he would not dishonor the memory of his treasured friend. The Goddess had tasked him to find that book, and he would find it, he would take it. No matter what. And that meant no matter what.
Duty was honor, and the cost of that honor was blood.