If only to protect those he so greatly loved that he was willing to resort to this kind of desperate gamble.
Tarrin shifted his awareness more into the physical world, studying the shifting, shadowy form of his opponent, allowing his expanded mind to consider as he prepared to repel an attack his opponent was about to initiate. Val's physical form suddenly rushed forward with the black rod leading, and Tarrin responded sufficiently, which caused his physical form to bring up his sword and parry the blow wide. The key was the physical world and emotion, he understood that now. By continuing to brawl across the entire spectrum of existence, he was doing nothing but wandering away from the key of it. Val was imprisoned within his icon. Destroy that icon, and he would destroy Val. That was why Val was attacking in such a vast and broad manner, to distract Tarrin from the simple truth of that one observation. Val's weakness, his greatest weakness, was his imprisonment. And emotion was the path that would lead him to the promised land.
Shifting himself almost entirely into the physical world, Tarrin freed his physical form of its mere status as a metaphor of battle and attacked Val's physical form in earnest. This shocked and surprised his foe, who was forced to return to the physical realm himself, hastily raising up his black rod of utter darkness to desperately parry the assault. Tarrin attacked again, and again, and again with his blazing sword, causing his adversary to back up quickly, moving to protect his vulnerable icon from attack.
What's the matter, Val? he taunted, speaking directly into his foe's mind. Do I frighten you now? I know how to defeat you. You couldn't beat me when I was a mere mortal, and you know you have no chance against me now. So why don't you just give up? I'll make it swift and clean.
I am invinicible! Val shrieked feverishly in Tarrin's expanded mind, his hatred and anger boiling out of his words like froth from the mouth of a mad dog. I am a god! I am eternal! You are nothing, Were-cat, do you hear? Nothing! You take from me my rightful place and my destiny, and now you have the nerve to consider yourself my better? I will show you how wrong you are!
It's almost unfair, Tarrin continued to taunt. After all, you're bound into your icon, limited in your power. I have no such restriction. I could withdraw my icon to somewhere safe and deal with you from a position of security, but I won't do that. I'll give you the chance to kill me, fair and square, hand to hand. Just you and me, though it will hardly be a fair fight. You are but a mere godling, Val. In a way, I pity you for your disability.
That got him. The term godling seemed to send Val into a fever pitch, and he abandoned dragging Tarrin into fighting across the entire spectrum of existence and resorted to good old fashioned brute force in the physical world. He advanced with his glowing eyes blazing with indignation and fury, as if Tarrin's insults had been more than he could stand, wailing at Tarrin's winged form with his rod of utter darkness. This was a form of combat much more suited to the martially trained Were-cat, and he smoothly and gladly fell into a defensive position, concentrating all his power in the physical world yet watchful for a sudden attack in the realms beyond that of mortal comprehension. Motes of charged magical chaos drifted away from the impact of Val's rod and Tarrin's sword, physical embodiments of raw magic, whose effects on reality were wild and upredictable when they struck solid matter, as the two gods battled across the dusty air over the high dais below, a dais littered with massive boulder-sized building stones that had fallen from the roof above. Val proved he knew how to fight in a physical sense, but his technique was forced, and his edge was taken away by his rage. His movements were jerky and predictable, and he was so taken with his anger that he didn't realize that the god who opposed him was simply letting him attack to get a feel for his opponent, coming to an understanding of his preferences and his strengths and weaknesses when fighting with a weapon.
Tarrin continued to defend, searching Val's technique and the magic that made up his physical form for a chink in his armor, a weakness he could exploit to his full advantage. His chosen form was one that was not completely solid, shifting in its nature and actually rather cleverly adaptable, which also made it deceptive and hard to pin down. But the shadows and darkness only concealed what was really in there, and that was his icon. It was a physical object, not an amalgamation of shadows and darkness. Those were just shells, smoke and mirrors that Val had erected around his vulnerable icon to protect it from detection and attack. Somewhere in that mass of living darkness was a plain black stone statue, and that was what he needed to attack.
It could be anywhere in there, he realized as he deflected a furious series of savage blows, as the dark god's temper had truly run away with him. He'd have to be very exact, and he couldn't miss. If Val realized what he was doing, if he missed with the first try, Val would regain his composure and again spread the battle out into the infinite aspects of existence, where Val had a better chance to defeat his less experienced opponent and protect his vulnerable icon. Tarrin had gotten him mad, and he had to defeat him before he regained his senses and strove not to lose his temper again.
The icon was the key. But how to reach it within the shapeless nature of the defenses Val had erected around it, that was the question.
Tarrin considered the problem for long moments as he systematically backed up and out of the dark god's wild swings, trying to find a clue that would answer that simple question. He stopped backing up and suddenly turned on Val to attack, catching the angry god off balance, raining massive blows down at his shadowed head that the god just barely managed to deflect. That attack seemed to clear the fog in Val's mind, and Tarrin realized that he was starting to come out of his tizzy. He doubted he could incite him into another outburst again, so he knew he had to work fast. He again scanned Val's shadowy body for a clue as to where he was hiding the icon within it, but the dark god had done well in concealing his vulnerability from his opponent. He felt Val's mind again expand out into the countless realms of existence, preparing to return the battle to a raging melee conducted through all aspects of being, to return to the form of combat that gave him the most advantage.
The answer was deceptively simple, striking him suddenly, and it was an experience of his mortal life. It was so simple that he almost laughed. It was so simple that he had overlooked it!
Magical creatures can directly affect one another.
Icons and their physical forms would be no different. Just as the young mortal Tarrin, so long ago, could strike an insubstantial Wraith and do it harm, so now could the god Tarrin reach out with his physical form and grab hold of the vaporish darkness that made up Val's physical form.
That was the answer. And it presented him the opportunity to finish it once and for all, to bring a final end to the threat Val posed to his friends, his family, and to his children.
With deliberant intent and eyes lost in the moment, Tarrin let go of his sword. The blazing weapon dimmed and contracted when he let it go, until it was again nothing but a mortal weapon that clattered to the ground far below, the ringing of its impact sounding in his ears, like the chiming of the sweetest bell. That act took Val off guard for a critical instant, in that instant Tarrin struck. He surged forward with only a speed that a god could muster, and a speed that only a god could react to and counter. But Tarrin's release of his weapon had distracted the dark god for a fatal instant, and when Tarrin's flaming paw closed around the wrist of the shadowed hand holding the black rod, Val's eyes widened in shock and terror. He returned to the physical world and tried to wrest free of the god's fiery grip, but could not. He struggled and writhed as Tarrin's other paw reached out and grabbed him by the back of the head when he turned away, then dragged him into a deadly embrace. Val writhed and struggled wildly to break free, trying to gather himself up for a final assault on the former Were-cat, an attack of wild desperation, but it was too late. Tarrin's power focused inward, built to its maximum, even as his fiery wings folded over, covering over both himself and his insubstantial adversary, enclosing him within the fiery expanse of their inner curves.