They caused an instant wildfire of gossip to rise up and sweep across the city, gossip of what they were doing, why they were there, and what was going on. It only intensified as they approached the Cathedral of Karas, but all gossip stopped when the Knights, an order under Karas, quickly and efficiently encircled the waist-high iron fence that surrounded the Cathedral, forming a wall of flesh and steel that nobody was permitted to cross. The Knights parted and the Wikuni rushed out, seizing anyone on the grounds but not yet in the church's walls, picking them up and carrying them back outside the wall of horse and man and armor that the Knights had created. The cathedral's bell began to toll, as if it marked the completion of the besiegement, telling all outside who were paying attention that those within had no idea they had been surrounded.
Keritanima nodded once the maneuver had been carried out, and gave Lilenne, who had become the leader of the katzh-dashi accompanying the host, a calm look. "Alright, Lilenne," she said in a cold voice. "Cut the Cathedral off."
The swallow-necked Shacean nodded calmly, and she dismounted along with her other Sorcerer companions. Seven stepped forward, and then joined into a circle. The other seven also joined into a circle, and after a moment of preparation, the two circles reached out to the Weave.
Hands erupting in the wispy white aura of High Sorcery, the two independent circles erected poweful Wards that cut the entire building off from the Weave, a complete sphere that went high above the steeple and well below the crypt, an invsible bubble that isoloted everything within from the delicate matrix of magical energy that either powered all magical spells, or provided other magic a pathway from its origination to complete a circuit to the caster. Within that sphere of Sorcerer-conjured anti-magic, there was no magic to power spells.
And no magic to power magical devices.
Deep within the Cathedral, a large bronze-bound door with three heavy bolts locking it in place shimmered in a brief display of magical light, and then fell dark.
To: Title EoF
Chapter 19
It was as sudden as it had been the first time. In a rush so abrupt that it almost took his breath away, his conscious roared back over the numbing magic which had it under his control, even as that magic seemed to wane and fade away.
Blinking his eyes, Tarrin instantly stood up from the filthy straw in which he'd been sitting, and he was angry. Anger wasn't quite the word. Pure, sheer, abject utter rage was a better definition. But instead of going mad and acting like an animal, he focused that sheer rage into his surroundings.
He was in deep trouble. He had indeed heard and remembered everything, so he fully appreciated where he was, and what was standing between him and freedom. He was deep in a vast underground complex occupied by a large number of armed men. From what he heard, many of the priests above knew about this place, and were indeed members of it. But many others were not. He had been brought down through a series of secret passages that led off a side corridor in the quarters area. He heard every word of what Irvon and Jula said, and then she had brought him to this tiny cell, and a man had locked huge manacles on him, with a thick chain designed more for a Troll than they were for a human. A chain ran from the manacles to the wall, secured into it by a huge eye bolt.
Something had disrupted the magic on the collar. That's what freed him. He could feel a very powerful force blocking off the entire area from the Weave…it had literally peeled back the strands and pulled them away from the entire area. Very powerful Sorcerers were maintaining that barrier, even now. He could feel it on the edges of his awareness.
Had they found him? They had to have. Why else would they be blocking magic over the entire region? They had tracked him down somehow, and had cast the barrier to do something. But it also had the side effect of freeing him from the collar's magical control. That meant that they had to be close to him, and they may be armed and in force. If he could reach them, he could get himself to safety.
He had to get out. He was having enough trouble controlling his rage, to keep from snapping and going berzerk. This was the time to think, not to fight, because he couldn't afford being caught without getting close to the exit. And he was chained to a wall, with a collar around his neck, inside a tiny barred cell. Every fiber of his being screamed out to be free, building inside him an almost uncontrollable instinctive need to break out, to escape, to do anything he had to do to be free. It caused him to tremble, to lose control of his breath, as it built into a cold thing in the pit of his stomach that threatened to tear him apart.
The first thing was the collar. Desperately, he grabbed it in both paws and pulled against it, wrenching it side to side, until he felt the metal begin to give way. It squealed faintly under his pads, until it came loose of his neck with an audible klink. He threw the collar into the straw, resisting the urge to jump up and run, fighting against the impulses that sceamed nothing but flight into his mind.
Chains rattled as he pulled them taut, testing the bolt. It wasn't that large, but it was solid. The chains themselves were very thick, and seemed to be well made. The fear built and built and built, and every tug on the chains made it stronger and stronger, until his heart was pounding in his ears and his breathing came in short, ragged gasps. He had never felt fear like that before, and it terrified him almost as much as the fear of being imprisoned did. His heart began to race, and he could see his pulse behind his eyes, hear it in his ears, feel it in myriad places under his skin, as he pulled and jerked and snapped at the chains, desperation beginning to take firm hold inside him.
"Ere now!" a voice came from outside. "They ain't never said nothin' about you makin' a racket! Shaddup and sit back down, mangy critter!"
Tarrin put a foot against the wall and yanked, pushing off at the same time. Metal squealed, groaned, and then rang as the bolt twisted in the wall, and then was broken off at the mortarline even as one of the chains broke free of the right manacle.
"Hey!" the voice outside shouted, and the door thumped loudly.
Tarrin could hear nothing but the pounding of his own heart, and the incessant, undeniable, animalistic urge to be free. Grabbing the chain on the left manacle, he twisted the eye where it was connected to the manacle and twisted it off, and then set his paws as far apart as he could to make the chain connecting his paws taut. Snarling soundlessly, his inhuman strength suddenly attacked that chain, as Tarrin pulled his arms apart with every ounce of his incredible power. The chain did not break, so he put his wrists together and yanked them apart, giving out a bestial cry as manacles tore skin, muscles ripped from anchors on bones, and ligaments tore and snapped. His overpowering need for freedom had overwhelmed his sensation of pain, and those arms inexorably pulled further and further apart, straining the heavy chain connecting them together.
The sound of the chain snapping under the irresistable force of Tarrin's augmented strength was accompanied by the sound of the throwing of the bolt on the door, and murky torchlight suddenly flooded into the room. "I said sit down and shaddup!" the voice called again as the door opened.
The pain had been too much. The pain, the rage, the inescapable fear, they assaulted Tarrin's mind in harmony, and he could no longer control them. His consciousness was again shunted off to the side, overwhelmed by his animalistic urges, conquered by the Cat. The Cat would be free.
The Cat would be free!
The man, a slim, unshaven sellsword, with a rank scent and a scarred face, took one look at the hunched Were-cat, arms free of the chains, a broken chain the size of a man's wrist hanging between the manacles. His eyes glowed from within with an unholy greenish radiance, and the look on his face was one of pure, unadulterated hate. He took one look at the man, his ears laid back, and he roared, his claws coming free of their sheaths.