In horror, he realized that she had broken in and used it on Jesmind and Mist. They would have ignored a weapon, and she used that against them to deal them incapacitating blows immediately. Tarrin had felt the pain-amplifying bite of that deadly weapon. And even now, the magic of the sword was keeping his mate and friend from regenerating, spilling their lifeblood out onto the floor.
I told you I'd repay you, her thought reached him. It was ecstatic, triumphant. She held up his two children and raised the sword when he took a step towards her, his ears laying back and his eyes igniting from within with the uholy greenish radiance that marked his anger. Internally, he had to crush the Cat in a vice-like grip to keep his powerful protective instincts from making him fling himself at the Demon. As long as she held that deadly blade to his children, he could not attack her. And she knew it, smiling viciously at him as her dead eyes burned with evil delight.
My Master wants the Firestaff, and you will deliver it to him, her thought touched him. You will do it to recover one of your children. This one, I think, she said, hefting Jasana. The other you can have now, as insurance you don't try to follow me.
Then, with deliberate slowness, her eyes boring into him with evil pleasure, she deliberately raised the sword and drew it across Eron's exposed neck, cutting his throat. The blood boiled from the ghastly wound, and Eron gurgled feebly as the Demon brutally tossed his body aside, where it crumpled to the floor with a quickly and horrifically expanding pool of blood forming around his head.
The enraged bellow that tore from him could not define the fury, the rage, the incredible pain and injury she had dealt to him with that one act. His claws came out and he coiled up to fall on her and tear her to tiny pieces, but the sword raised again and touched Jasana's neck. That made him freeze instantly, fear for his daughter preventing his rage from taking control of him.
You can chase me or try to save them, her thought echoed in his mind trimphantly. If you're fast enough, you may even save the boy-child's life, but I rather doubt it. Choose, Were-cat. Save one life or three. I leave it to you.
Then, her coils doubling over on themselves, she slithered backwards towards the balcony door. For an awful moment, Tarrin's rage nearly made him launch himself at her unprotected back as she turned around, but an image of Faalken's tomb stayed him instantly. He would not let his mate and son and Mist die over his need to kill that Demonic bitch for what she'd done! They had to keep Jasana alive, or they couldn't get the Firestaff from him! Save what he could, and leave recovering Jasana for after the others were saved!
Though it killed him, he made no move towards the marilith as she slithered out onto the balcony and then somehow went over the side. His lunge was instead to Eron, rolling him over and putting desperate hands on his neck, trying to stem the horrific flow of blood pouring out of the grisly wound. He was spent, utterly spent, and even as he desperately reached out to try to command his power of Sorcery, he knew that it was going to fail. Even as his son's skin turned chalky and the flow of blood pouring from the dreadful wound began to wane. Never before had he felt so powerless, not known what to do, not had someone to help him. He gave a strangling cry as he redoubled his efforts, terror and panic starting to overwhelm his rational attempts to exert his spent will against the Weave.
Calm down! the voice of the Goddess touched him, though her own voice was frantic. I can't do anything unless you calm down, kitten! Open yourself to me, quickly! There's no time!
Trying to calm down, trying to reign in the firestorm of emotion roaring through his mind, he put his paws on Eron's shoulders and tried to center himself. He knew he had to reach out to the Goddess as she reached out to him, and in their meeting he would become her instrument, but his eyes could only look at the deadly wound in his son's neck and the blood that was saturating the knees of his trousers.
It seemed an eternity, but then he finally felt her searching for him, reaching out for him. He rushed out to meet her, and in their touch he was again shunted off the the side as the awesome power of the Goddess reached directly into him, through him sweeping him up with it and joining his mind to hers. He could feel her near-panic, her fear and fury at what had happened, but she did not let it her affect her judgement. With her swift and sure manner, she wove the spell that Tarrin had improvised to defeat the killing magic of Jegojah's sword, wove it through him and into Eron, Mist, and Jesmind simultaneously, something he would not have been able to do. That was all she needed to do, all that needed to be done, and all that Tarrin's weary body could withstand as the regenerative powers of the Were-cats would kick in now that the magic defeating them had been neutralized.
As his eyesight failed and the Goddess quickly separated herself from him, he saw the terrible gash in his son's neck begin to close, and pink flush his chalky skin as his body's regeneration restored the blood spilled by Jegojah's sword. All he could feel was relief as he spiralled down into unthinking blackness, knowing that his son and the mothers of his children were going to live.
To: Title EoF
Chapter 12
The first thing he smelled was Jenna.
Her scent was saturating his nose, and he dimly realized as his mind clawed its way back out of the blackness that it was all over the bedding on which he was laying. The old smell came from the bedding, but there was also a fresh scent of her, mixing in his nose with the scents of Jesmind, Mist, Allia, Sarraya, and his son, Eron.
Comprehending that one scent made him snap immediately awake. Eron! The last thing he remembered was seeing his son's wound slowly began to close, and color start to bloom in his pale skin. Happening so fast that it made him a little dizzy, Tarrin's mind became completely alert and his eyes snapped open even as he sat up in the bed, fear clamping around his heart. Was Eron alright? Had he healed completely? Had the terrible wound had any lingering effects?
He was in Jenna's bedchamber. He knew that because her scent was everywhere, and the place fit his sister's personality. It was a fairly large room, filled with furniture that was both handsome to the eye and sturdy. Jenna was a farmgirl, and to her, durability was just as important as the way it looked. On a farm, getting the most out of something was very important. Before he could get more than the most cursory look around, he was buried by hugging arms. Jesmind and Mist had rushed forth to embrace him, and their scents in his nose was like the sweetest perfume. He held each of them tightly for a moment, then made them give over when Eron climbed into the bed. Tarrin hugged his son to him desperately, with trembling arms, unable to feel nothing except the relief that came with a parent's assurance that his child was well. He clasped Allia's hand as she greeted him, then sat sedately on the bed beside him as Mist and Jesmind continued to cling to him.
Still holding Eron tightly, who hugged him back just as intensely, he looked at Jesmind. His mate had tears standing in her eyes, and he could see the desperate, terrible feeling of loss that was raging inside her. It was inside him, too. He could see that she was trying to tell him what happened, but he remembered it all with an awful clarity.
"I'll get her back," he promised immediately, reaching out to her. She clutched his paw with both of hers, then burst into tears and buried her face against his shoulder.
"How long?" he asked, looking to Mist.
"You've been asleep for nearly a day," she answered. "Jenna wouldn't let anyone try to wake you," she said in an accusing manner.