Recovering from the backlash, Tarrin turned his back to the scene of total destruction he had wreaked upon the city. And he gave it not a single thought. Those who died did so because of her, not because of him. Stalking off into the dust, almost like a fog, concealing everything not ten spans from one's face, Tarrin started back towards the house.

There was going to be hell to pay for one Empress of Arak.

One Shiika.

She had to go home eventually. He knew where to find her. And he meant to pry his staff out of her cold, dead fingers.

The Book of Ages be damned. It could wait. This… this was personal.

GoTo: Title EoF

Chapter 27

The walk wasn't doing him any good at all.

He was still fuming, seething, calm on the outside but utterly furious within. How dare she do that to him? What was inside him was his own, and she had no right to look into his dreams! It was bad enough that they were dreams denied to him, but to show him what could be, then strip it away from him… it was enough to make him want to kill people.

Underneath that anger was a confusion, and not a little concern. Why did she do that? Why take his staff? It made no sense. All that accomplished was to make him furious and deprive him of a weapon capable of hurting her. It wouldn't stop him in any way. It really wouldn't even dissuade him from coming after her. He would find a way to make her pay for what she did. Her actions only managed to focus his attention on her, and put her and her position in danger. She should have killed him. She could have killed him, easily, yet she did not. So why take his staff?

It just didn't make any sense.

Padding through dust-choked air, passing people who stood at doorways and looked out in fright and uncertainty, Tarrin marched straight back towards the house, following his own scent through the dust, dust that made him cough and sneeze every few seconds. It filled his nose, it got into his windpipe, it even coated the inside of his mouth, but he needed to be able to smell. He couldn't see to the end of the block, and since he hadn't seen how he got there, he needed to be able to scent-track his way back. The dust was a pall in the night, reflecting back the lights of the street lamps, giving it an eerie reddish glow that made the night seem ominous, menacing. The dust was still, showing that there was no wind.

And the dust restricted his ability to scent those nearby.

They appeared first as indistinct, hazy shapes in the ruddy light, but as he approached them absently, more intent on his own anger than on his surroundings, he took notice of them. Nine shapes, human in form. But as he neared, he realized that three of them had non-human attributes. Large membranous wings silhouetted against the light, shadows he had thought were signs hanging behind them. He got close enough to see them through the dust, and his heart froze in his chest.

Nine of them. Six males, three females. The males had bluish-black skin, black hair, and glowing yellow eyes, but despite those inhuman traits, their faces were very handsome. They all wore archaic plate armor, much like what Jegojah wore, and seeing it reminded him of the Doomwalker. The three females were about the same size, with blond hair, black hair, and brown hair, and were voluptuous and toned. All three had large bat-like wings, but that was the only thing that set them apart from a human. They were all very pretty, and in their faces he could see their mother. All nine were armed with those black-bladed swords, and all nine had them drawn.

They were all Demons. Cambisi, these were Shiika's brood.

And she had set them here. It had all been an elaborate trap.

No wonder she didn't kill him. She only took his staff, taking away the only thing that could hurt them. Then she gave him to them, probably because he killed one of their number.

Welcome to the family, a female voice seemed to speak into his mind. He had no idea which one had done that.

Forgetting everything but the threat before him, Tarrin reached out and touched the Weave. He'd fought them before. He knew what to do.

"What in the world was that?" Camara Tal asked blearily as she came down stairs. She had only a sheet wrapped around her, and she looked down at the others with the sandy-eyed condition of someone who had just been awakened. The others were all there. Dolanna and Allia sat on chairs facing the fireplace. Dolanna wore a nightrobe of dark cloth, but Allia was fully dressed in her baggy desert garb, one of the drakes in her lap accepting her gentle petting enthusiastically. The other drake was on Phandebrass' shoulder, who had thrown on his own brown robes quickly. Jula sat on the floor, arms wrapped around her knees, and a very uncertain, frightened look on her face. Dar stood by Allia's chair, leaning down and scratching the drake's head lightly as she stroked its scaly back. He wore only a pair of breeches, his shirt still in his hands. Sarraya stood on Dolanna's shoulder easily.

"That was Tarrin," Dolanna said grimly, looking into the just-set fire, a fire set to ward off the night's chill in the room.

"He slipped away in the night," Jula said quietly. "And he's furious. Absolutely furious. I hope he's not mad at me," she said fearfully, wrapping her tail around her ankles.

"How do you know that?" the Amazon asked.

"Tarrin has used his Sorcery," Dolanna told her. "It shuddered the Weave. Whatever he has done, its power was monumental. Tarrin can only control that kind of power when he is enraged. The explosion worries me that he has destroyed a portion of the city in his rage."

"This is exactly what Triana told me to stop," Sarraya grunted. "She's going to pull off my wings when she hears about this." She sighed forlornly.

"So why are we sitting around here?" Camara Tal demanded hotly, taking a hand off her sheet. It slipped down to expose parts of her usually covered by her halter, but she made not even a sign that she cared about what she was showing. "If he's gone off the cliff, then we'd better get out there and find him before-"

Another earth-shattering boom shook the house like a child's rattle. Camara Tal stumbled and toppled backwards, and Sarraya joined the drakes when they suddenly jumped into the air. The Amazon sat up and looked as Jula, Dar, Dolanna, and Allia all went completely pale, Dolanna putting a hand to her chest quickly.

"Goddess!" the Sorceress gasped. "Tarrin, oh, Tarrin! Stop this, stop it now!"

"Dolanna! What's going on?" Camara Tal asked as she got back on her feet, sneezing as dust shaken from the ceiling went up her nose with her breath.

"Can you feel that?" Jula asked in awe. "He's going to tear the Weave!"

"What is happening, woman?" Camara Tal snapped, rushing over quickly. She let go of her sheet, leaving it behind, but she gave her unclad condition not a moment's thought as she grabbed Dolanna by the robe, then hauled her out of her chair to look her in the eyes.

"Tarrin is going out of control!" she replied instantly. "He is-we must find him now and stop him, or he will destroy himself!"

They were all around him, mocking him, taunting him.

Join our family, they chanted in strange voices, over and over, an endless, mind-warping whisper of evil invitation, a voice that caused the Cat to go totally and utterly out of control. He had already tried using Sorcery on them, but they had seen that, and had evaded his air-shockwave attack easily. Join us, join our family, feel our love, the females seemed to whisper, closing in on the enraged Were-cat slowly, easily, like a pack of dogs surrounding its next meal. Tarrin's entire body was limned over in Magelight as he demanded power from the Weave, sought to fill himself to the brink with its power and then turn it against his opponents.