But the Doomwalker had other ideas. The lightning not finding the mark, Jegojah resorted to its most powerful attack. Tarrin felt it in the ground even as it unleashed it, that sesmic shockwave that shook the earth. The ground trembled and rumbled as the rubble pile began to vibrate like the string of a lute, then blocks and masonry went flying as the shockwave struck the pile. Tarrin was quickly inundated in flying rocks, and the shifting stones beneath his feet parted and caused him to sink down into the debris as if it were quicksand. Rocks jabbed and pounded at him, their shifting pinched and cut into him, and it was a thoroughly unpleasant experience as he found himself getting buried beneath the rubble he had thought would be his advantage. The pile continued to shift, and he clearly felt his tail snap under the strain of being pinched between two large rocks. The pain made him suck in air sharply and start thrashing against the shifting rubble.
Now things were not good. Tarrin wriggled out of the rubble as he heard the Doomwalker cackling evilly. He had not forgotten about that power, but he had never expected it to be that strong. It hadn't shown that kind of strength before. He'd been saving that up, obviously.
"Jegojah is not as easy as that!" the Doomwalker taunted up at him as Tarrin crept about the top of the newly shifted rockpile. The stones had done him considerable harm, and though they had been shaped by artificial means, the many years had removed that taint of working, turning them again into weapons of nature. That made all the bruises, nicks, cuts, and his broken tail true injuries, that would not regenerate. He had to retreat, if only for a moment, give himself time to heal the damage with magic.
Turning, Tarrin dashed up the rock pile, then vaulted over to the arena seats that were still standing. He raced along those stands, ducking when a bolt of lighting lashed in from the arena floor, and then ducked into one of the passages leading to the alleyways where he had traps. He heard the metalshod boots of Jegogah coming up from behing him almost as soon as he entered the passageway.
Charging out into one of the choked alleyways, he heard the Doomwalker racing up behind him. He turned a corner and moved into the stretch that held one of his nasty traps, the falling block. He slowed down to close the gap with the Doomwalker, getting that critical distance, setting up what he had worked through in his mind many times before. He got to the proper pace, checked the little landmarks he had assigned for this trap, and then when he crossed the line just past the set of double windows on the left building, he slashed the supports holding up that huge block some forty spans over his head. It immediately began to plummet from the rooftops, and Tarrin raced under its expanding shadow easily. He took but three steps more, and it slammed home. The squealing of armor and the sudden surprised shout from the Doomwalker told him that it had hit its mark. He skidded to a halt and looked back, and saw that the Doomwalker was pinned under the massive stone block only by an ankle. He was disappointed that the block didn't do much damage, but it gave Tarrin critical time to get some distance from the Doomwalker. He scamped up the buildings, literally jumping from the side of one building to another, criss-crossing his way up to the rooftops. There he knelt and immediately bent to the task of healing the damage done to him.
This was one of the things that he realized made Weavespinners so very hard to kill. Weavespinners could use magic on themselves, and that included healing. Tarrin sent the healing flows, Earth, Water, and Divine, into himself, then set them to attack the many minor cuts, bruises, and the broken tail that he had suffered in the shifting rocks. He felt the icy blast roll through him, making him suck in his breath, and immediately felt a curious weariness. He could heal himself, he discovered, but it cost him a great deal more in energy than it would have cost had he healed someone else, or received healing from another. Sorcerer's Healing took something from both the healer and the one being healed. Since he was both, he had to pay both of those tolls in strength, and they were considerably more when taken together than when they were taken seperately. Tarrin knew that if he wanted to use any other magic of any moderate power, he couldn't heal himself again.
But it had done its job. Tarrin looked down into the alleyway and found Jegojah gone, which was what he had expected. The thing could merge into the rock of the alley, it would be easy for it to escape from under the stone.
The building under him began to shudder! Tarrin realized that Jegojah was attacking the building itself, and the power of its ability to shake the earth would bring the building down! He scrambled across the rooftop, then lept to another rooftop relatively close by. Just in time, from the sound of it, for a horrendous cracking sound heralded the tumultuous collapse of the building upon which he had been standing, sending an ear-splitting roar into the air and kicking up a huge cloud of dust.
Staying out in the city was now a death sentence. The Doomwalker's surprisingly powerful ability to shake the earth would make the buildings nothing but a series of deathtraps for Tarrin. The only safe thing he could do was go back to the arena, where the open floor of it would take away any overhead objects the Doomwalker could drop on his head. He jumped from rooftop to rooftop, faster than the Doomwalker could draw a bead on him, but it didn't stop it from trying. It collapsed three buildings in methodical fashion, then got smart and tried to bring down the building to which Tarrin was trying to jump. The continuous roar of the shifting rubble had masked the Doomwalker's clever attack on his path, but Tarrin managed to reach the building, cross its roof, and make the twenty span jump to a large building immediately beside the old arena before the rooftop collapsed. It was a scary sensation to feel the roof sagging beneath his feet, but he had very little choice in the matter. Out in the city, he absolutely could not engage the Doomwalker on the ground. It would simply drop everything available on his head.
Tarrin climbed down the side of the building quickly and ran back into the arena, and he heard at least one metal shod boot coming up from behind him. He ran down the stands and dropped back into the arena's sand-covered floor, then turned and brandished his staff as the Doomwalker walked right out of the arena wall. Its left boot was gone, but its skeletal foot was undamaged. The armor had taken the brunt of the crushing blow.
"Jegojah makes an offer," it said in a grim tone. "Magic, it will bring this place down, yes, and Jegojah does not wish to destroy this place. If ye agree not to use magic, so Jegojah will abide by that as well. Skill against skill, it shall decide who is better, yes?"
Tarrin drew himself up and considered it. In the arena, Tarrin held the advantage in magic. But he had intended to stop using magic anyway, so he simply ignored the Doomwalker. It could take his silence as an agreement or a denial, whatever it decided, for Tarrin did not play by another's rules.
The only thing he had decided so far that a change of weaponry was in order. Tarrin had beaten on Jegojah with his staff, but it had not gotten rid of that shield. The slashing cut of Air had done more damage in one blow than fifty hits on the shield had with his staff, so perhaps a large, heavy weapon with a very sharp edge would be more successful. Tarrin had beaten up the Doomwalker pretty well, so he felt that losing the advantage of his staff was a fair trade for the chance to rid it of that shield.
Tarrin sent his staff into the elsewhere, then deliberately and slowly drew his black-bladed sword.
This startled and confused Jegojah, and made it approach him with a wariness, as if they were fighting for the first time. Tarrin held the sleek, deadly sword lightly in both paws, tip down, eyes utterly flat and expression still totally emotionless.
It was more of an education than a feeling out for Jegojah. Tarrin ignored the customary feeling out process and went right after it, hacking away with that long, deadly weapon with tremendous speed. The blade slashed the air, whistling shrilly as Tarrin assaulted the Doomwalker's left flank yet again, going after that shield with a single-minded determination that the Doomwalker still did not seem to comprehend. The attacks on the shield stopped when the Doomwalker turned its body and managed to turn it into a fencing mat
ch, but it was quickly taught that Tarrin knew intimately how to use the weapon in his paws. Deadly blood-sucking sword struck the sleek black Eastern weapon again and again, neither combatant managing to slip past the defense of the other, the arena's walls ringing with a sound that had not graced their confines for five thousand years.
Tarrin backed up and utlized his reach advantage to slice the chisel point of his weapon across the breastplate of the Doomwalker. It didn't flinch away from the attack, probably realizing that its armor would stop the shallow blow, and instead stabbed at Tarrin's wrists and arms with its own weapon as a counterstroke. Tarrin slid his paws around the edge of that sword, sidestepped quickly, then slashed the long Eastern sword in a tremendous arc over the thrusted sword of his opponent. The Doomwalker twisted aside frantically, bringing up its shield to defend itself, but the lethally sharp edge of that blade bit into the edge of the shield and went right through. In a vast arc, Tarrin completed the slash, carrying along the top third of the Doomwalker's circular shield along with it.
All it cost him was his sword. Jegojah's deadly blade slice across the forearm of his left arm as he tried to recover, and the intense pain it caused made him flinch, and drop his weapon. Tarrin staggered back quickly, weaving the counterspell to neutralize that evil weapon's magical bite, and had to bring his staff back from the elsewhere hastily to fend off a sudden explosion of offense from the Doomwalker. Probably realizing that Tarrin had been methodically trying to beat down its defenses, the Doomwalker threw everything into an all-out attack, trying to bull into its larger foe and bring him down in a furious series of heavy, nearly reckless blows. Tarrin managed to parry or evade the frenzied attack, backing up just enough to give himself room, working with blurring paws on his staff to intercept or deflect that deadly sword again and again, so fast that a human spectator would not have been able to follow the blazing movements of the two inhuman combatants. Tarrin ended the sudden press by kicking the Doomwalker in the hip when it went too far with a savage blow meant to cut Tarrin in half at the ribcage, sending it stumbling out of its offensive posture and giving Tarrin a hasty second to scoop up his sword and replace it in its scabbard. The Doomwalker took that second to adjust the damaged shield on its arm so the missing section of it was turned down instead of up, affording the most protection to where it was most needed. After that ever-so-brief pause, they engaged one another yet again.
It was another heated, furious exchange of blows. Jegojah constantly sought to drive the point of its sword into some part of him, to open a wound that went more than skin deep, as Tarrin continued to batter Jegojah's shield, to literally break it apart. The metal shield had already begun to buckle, and now it wavered dangerously every time it absorbed one of those punishing blows from Tarrin's unbreakable staff. Jegojah had to abandon its attempt to stab Tarrin and use its sword to parry those blows, often having to intercept the staff as it tried to stab or punch around the sword to get at that shield. Tarrin worked feverishly to get to the shield, even leaving himself open a few times to see what the Doomwalker would do. It didn't try to go for him, it protected its shield, trying to get as much use out of the device as it could before having to discard it.
That was what Tarrin had been waiting for.
He moved to smash his staff down in a broad overhanded chop, and Jegojah raised its sword and turned its shield arm aside to give it room to parry the weapon completely, allow it to go around its body and hit the ground. But Tarrin suddenly pulled back, pulled back out of range of his own staff with on wide step and began to turn towards Jegojah's sword side. He slid the staff out and down into an end-grip when it was hidden behind his body to the Doomwalker's eyes, and then came around the other side in a fast spinning motion, whipping the staff around his body with horrendous force. Tarrin was out of range of his own staff when it was in center-grip, but Jegojah's face registered shock when it saw Tarrin holding the end of that staff as he brought it around, brought it around with such force that it ripped the air as it passed through it. The Doomwalker tried to backpedal frantically, but it didn't understand what Tarrin was doing until it was already done.
With a sickening crack, the very end of Tarrin's staff struck the armored gauntlet of Jegojah's sword hand, and that knocked the deadly sword out of its grip. The sword spun hilt over point high into the air, in a gentle arc that sent it fifty spans to the side, to clatter loudly onto the stones of the stands.
Tarrin didn't see it land. He recovered his feet even as the Doomwalker frantically went for its other sword, and it just barely managed to get the weapon out in time to deflect a blow that would have struck the Doomwalker's shield from the inside, and that would have broken the straps holding it to the skeletal creature's arm. It managed to stab Tarrin in the shoulder with the new sword as the Were-cat tried to recover from the risky move, and though it hurt like crazy, it was not the deady pain that the other weapon caused, and it wasn't so deep that it even threatened the mobility of his arm.
Getting that weapon out of Jegojah's hands had been like opening a door. The Cat suddenly roared out of its place in his mind, roared out and took immdiate control of him. Rational thought dissolved away as the need to keep his wits about him had been removed, and his full animalistic fury rose up and took control of him. Throwing the staff aside, the Cat reached out for what had always been there--
--but could not find it. The power that had always been there before no longer was, and the Cat seemed to sense that this was a permanent situation. It was neither disappointed nor worried about this change. What was lost was lost, and it no longer had any meaning to the Cat. The power of that magic was tremendous, but the Cat had other weapons that served it just as well. It fell back on things it knew, so it roared mindlessly and pounced directly at Jegojah, and the Doomwalker didn't have the chance to try to get out of the way. The smaller opponent was slammed to the ground by Tarrin's greater weight and strength, and the Were-cat was already starting in on the Doomwalker before they hit the ground. Claws ripped and tore and slashed at the heavy armor of the smaller foe, rending it and gouging it, even tearing holes in it. The claws on his feet hooked into the swordbelt and codpiece and literally ripped them apart, tearing huge pieces out of Jegojah's hips and thighs as the three-finger long claws shredded anything that they could snag. He even bit savagely at the Doomwalker, ignoring the foul, putrid taste of the necrotic flesh to do as much damage as possible in the shortest time. Tarrin's jaws snapped the lower mandible bone of the Doomwalker at the chin, and ripped what tattered flesh remained attached to it, fanged teeth and powerful jaw muscles breaking the bone in their vise-like grip. It was a mindless flurry of frenzied motion, a clawed dance of total destruction that sought nothing less than to rip the Doomwalker into as many pieces as possible.
A hand managed to press against Tarrin's chest, and a magical bolt of lightning managed to get the Were-cat off of it. Tarrin's body was driven up by the power of the spell, to land lightly on its feet some ten spans away with a blackened circle in his chest, pain he barely registered. Jegojah rolled to its feet, and it showed that it had been savaged in the powerful attack, armor ripped and gouged, jawbone broken and both pieces dangling limply from their anchors on either side of its head, a huge chunk of both its legs laying in little pieces all over the ground. The straps of its shield had been broken in the assault, leaving it laying on the ground, so it held its sword in both hands now, its mangled expression unreadable and its ability to speak destroyed. Tarrin spat out a mouthful of decayed flesh, then spread his paws wide and crouched down into that slouching stance he used when fighting unarmed.
It was an exchange no less furious than what had happened on the ground, but this time the wounding went both ways. Tarrin literally ignored the sword as it concentrated on tearing the Doomwalker apart, and the Doomwalker took advantage of that by carving up the enraged Were-cat at every available opportunity. Jegojah kept backing up, kept from getting hooked and driven to the ground, where certain destruction awa
ited it. It backed up in circles, getting ripped up by those deadly claws, but managing to give back as good as it got. Jegojah had used Tarrin's rage against him before, so it knew exactly what to do, and it was doing it perfectly. Back up, keep from getting grappled, and do as much damage as physically possible until the amount of injury the Were-cat sustained was enough to bring it back to its senses.
But the Were-cat showed no signs of backing off, of coming to its senses. It was absolutely enraged, and Jegojah sensed that it would not stop coming until it was dead. And given the horrific damage the Doomwalker had taken, it knew which would reach that state first. So it backed away even faster, getting a chance to open some distance between them, and motioned towards the ground.
"Come!" it managed to say through a shattered face. "Jegojah needs ye now!"
The Were-cat backed up in confusion when a second vile scent arose from the earth. It looked to see a second figure much like the first, armored and helmeted with a visor, the smell of death and the cold of the grave surrounding it like a shroud. This one was stockier than the first, that hated, known scent, stockier and a bit shorter, and it held a large broadsword in its gauntleted hand and a shield strapped to the other arm. It had literally risen up from the ground, a ground that showed no signs of disturbance, like a ghost.
But the Cat was not afraid. One was nearly destroyed, and the second was nothing more than an obstacle to get to the first.
The Cat was quickly disabused of that notion. This second one was every bit as quick and strong as the first, and it attacked with the same mindless fearlessness the Cat itself employed. It charged forward with sword raised, not even trying to defend itself, sword seeking out the Cat's heart immediately. This unusual tactic was enough to put the Cat aback, force it to back up and give ground, defending itself from this strange, fearless enemy. The sword slashed across the Were-cat's upper left arm, just under the brand, and the pain that caused was enough to make the Cat understand that raw brutality was not going to win this fight. It needed a plan, and that meant that it had to give some control back to the Human in it.
Tarrin Kael Firestaff Collection Book 3 - Honor and Blood by Fel © Page 68