This time, it would be settled, one way or the other. Jegojah was not going to come after him again afterward. This time, the Doomwalker would pay for killing Faalken, for attacking his family, for trying to kill Jenna. Jegojah would be facing a much more dangerous Were-cat this time, a Were-cat that was absolutely determined to finish the nightmarish creature off for good. A Were-cat that no longer feared the Doomwalker's power.
Two would enter that last battle, but only one was going to leave.
The Goddess had withdrawn from him in his moment of fury, probably leaving him to sort things out for himself. He didn't mind that much. He stood up and stared at the sun in the east, feeling the heat of it against his face, feeling the heat welling up inside of him. The thought of finding his power again paled in comparison of the need to avenge himself against the Doomwalker. Magic could wait. This, this was personal. Tarrin had been fearing and fighting Jegojah for over a year now, and that was just about enough. It was time to finish it.
There was blood to be paid between them, and Tarrin was going to collect on that debt. Collect on it in a way that would make Allia proud of him.
Turning, Tarrin started down off the spire. He had alot to think about, alot to do, and it was best for him to sort it out as he ran. That way he wasn't wasting any effort, maximizing his time, as Allia had taught him to do.
Back on the top of the spire, in the uneven stone that made up the top of the sheared rock, rested two seared footprints, burned into the stone. They were very large, very long footprints, human-like feet that were unnaturally long and wide, almost like a cross between a human foot and an animal's paw. Gouges at the tips of the toes showed that the owner of those feet had claws, and the imprints were blackened and smoking. Three figures and an extremely small fourth could be seen racing off towards the northwest just beyond the lip of the broken spire, figures distorted a bit by smoke and heat as they passed behind the wavering heat rising up from the two seared footprints burned into the continuity of the stone, leaving behind blackened scars.
Omens of what was to come.
To: Title EoF
Chapter 12
Those two were something else.
Tarrin squatted down beside an oasis, a pool of water that had formed inside a crack in the desert floor, surrounded by large, leafy plants and a single strange tree with ridged back and a puff of green at its peak, watching Var and Denai. They had run for most of the day, and the setting sun was inching its way towards the horizon. Tarrin had spent most of that time in a silent contemplation of what was to come, but he'd spent the rest of the time watching the two Selani. He only knew one Selani, and this was the first time he'd seen two of them interacting at a social level.
It was quite entertaining.
Allia had never described this. Var and Denai were, quite simply, dead set to prove that he or she was the better of the two. They were ferociously competitive, turning absolutely everything into a challenge or competition. From running to hunting to setting up tents, even to finding the better campsite for the evening, the two of them had pitted themselves against one another. There was no animosity between them-indeed, they were very friendly and open with one another-but there was still that intense need to prove superiority over the other. Gender had nothing to do with this competition. Among the Selani, there was very little difference between males and females in size, strength, or ability. Only gender separated the two, and that was no barrier to competition.
So, the day had turned out to be one very long, ever-changing game between Var and Denai, as challenges were conceived and offered, then accepted and contended. They had battled over things as serious as finding food, and as silly as who could reach the next rock spire first. There were very few boundaries to their competitions, even going so far as to see who could tie the better tent knot. Had he not been so preoccupied, he would have found their antics to be rather funny. Sarraya surely did. The only real areas not contested were areas of specialty, such as Var's Scout eyesight or Denai's obe knowledge of languages.
All of that, the entire day of silly games had only been a precursor for this. The challenge of who was the better fighter. He watched them from a safe distance as they battled one another in the Dance, and from his short assessment of them, he had already chosen the winner. Denai was fast and strong, but she was still very young, barely more than an adult. Var had about fifteen years on her, and that difference in experience was the telling trait. Denai was good, but Var would eventually beat her. But Denai wasn't going to admit that easily. Their fighting was full contact, and both of them were already sporting what were going to be some pretty impressive bruises. Denai seemed to have a knack for getting Var to lower his guard on the right side, so his right eye was pretty swollen. Denai, on the other hand, had a tendency to raise her guard, and Var was coming in underneath her arms and putting some shots in on her belly, hips, and legs more or less uncontested. For some reason, Denai wouldn't block with her legs. That was a defensive technique basic to the Dance. But then he remembered that she was obe, and that her training in the Dance had probably been slowed down compared to others because of her additional duties. She was making novice mistakes, but to give her the benefit of the doubt, she hadn't been as thoroughly trained as others her age.
No need to make this easy. Tarrin stood up and moved towards where the two of them were scrapping, in a nice flat dusty clearing not far from the oasis plants. Sarraya flitted over to his side, and that made him stop.
"Don't interfere," Sarraya told him. "This is something they need to do. I think it's a racial custom. They're establishing the pecking order."
"That's not social, that's instinctual," Tarrin replied gruffly. "And I already know who's going to win."
"Who?"
"Var. Denai's making too many mistakes."
"We'll see. Experience isn't everything."
"Think what you want," Tarrin shrugged, and they fell silent. But not for very long. Var came at Denai on her left side, and baited her into shifting her guard to her strong side-Denai was left-handed-then he turned his side to her and kicked her in the hip with a thrusted foot. Denai was squared against him, and the impact sent her driving to the side, and that totally lowered her defenses. One of her arms came out, and the agile Var grabbed it in both hands and whipped her over his shoulder into the ground. Denai had the presence of mind to bring up a foot and kick over her own head, but Var was expecting such a move, and had turned so that her foot only struck his shoulder. He still had hold of her arm, and knelt behind her and twisted it behind her back, threatening to break it. She struggled from her seated position to grab him with her other hand, kicking and squirming, but she couldn't get her arm behind her enough to grab anything sensitive enough to make him let her go.
" Aija!" Denai gasped when Var wrenched her arm. It was the Selani word for yield. Denai was submitting.
"You were saying?" Tarrin asked.
"Hmph. Denai should have grabbed him between the legs. That would have stopped him."
"You're talking about something most men go to great lengths to protect," Tarrin told her. "Var would have seen that coming from a longspan away."
Var released Denai, standing up as she rolled her arm in her shoulder socket a few times to work out the sting. He was rubbing his face gingerly, from where she had walloped him a few good times. Var had won, but it was obvious that it wasn't an easy victory.
"How did you do that?" Denai demanded from the ground. "I never put my arm out."
Var was about to respond, but he backed off when he realized that Tarrin had come so close that he was looming over the smaller Selani. Denai scrambled to her feet, and when Tarrin suddenly cocked a fist back as if to strike her, she raised her arms into the basic guard defense, a position from which she could move quickly to block nearly anything from any direction. But her arms were too high.