James Galloway - The Tower of Sorcery

Consicely and quickly, Sevren related to her the events. "I was trying to see the runes of the warding circle when the Wraith appeared," he said quickly. "Tarrin pushed me out of the circle, and before I could put together any kind of spell, they were moving around too fast for me to try anything. Then the Selani tried to rush into the circle with a dagger," he sighed. "It was all I could do to keep her outside. If she'd have gone in there, it would have killed both her and Tarrin. Tarrin actually managed to kill the Wraith, and when he did, I rushed in to help him as best I could."

The Keeper was silent for an agonizing moment, a moment where Sevren saw his life pass before his eyes. "You did what you could," she said in a grim voice, one that made Sevren take an involuntary breath. "I can't even see the runes."

"I know," he said quietly, not wanting to press his luck. "I've never seen its like. Will Tarrin be alright?"

"We'll know as soon as Koran Dar works with him. For now, link with us and help us break the Ward holding him in."

Sevren nodded, and in seconds, the runes that made up the Ward flared into brilliant light, then winked out of existence as the combined power of the Keeper's circle destroyed it. The ward's walls shimmered, then vanished, and a wave of cold air that carried the smell of death and blood washed over them. The Keeper broke the circle, her eyes furious, but her voice tightly controlled. "Ahiriya. Amelyn. We raise the Ward immediately. I'll not have one more attempt on Tarrin. Not one." She grunted. "Amelyn, gather the others, and as soon as Koran Dar stabilizes Tarrin, we'll raise the Ward."

"Yes, Keeper," the dark-haired woman replied.

"Ahiriya."

"Yes, Keeper?"

"I want every Mage in Suld driven out of the city. I don't care what it takes. I want the Priests too afraid to leave their churches. I want them to know that when the Tower is displeased, the consequences are not worth the risks."

"It will be done, Keeper," she said quietly. The look on her face made it clear where she thought the blame was.

"I want whoever did this found. Alive," she grated. "I'm going to kill him myself."

"It will be done, Keeper," the fiery-haired woman repeated. Sevren knew that it was one of the jobs of the Fire seat. Hers was the task of running and arranging the things that were not exactly within the bounds of law and propriety. She ran the Tower's spy networks, and it was her responsibility to make those who made too much trouble for the Tower "disappear". It was a job for which she was well suited. Ahiriya was born to a noble family in Draconia, where policital intrigue, betrayal, and assassinations were as common as livestock and clouds. She performed her unusual duties with a savage efficiency that made the others in here rather unique profession very nervous and wary. Nobody crossed the Tower, and Ahiriya was one of the reasons for it. No doubt Ahiriya blamed herself for this attack; it was her responsiblity to know what was going on, both in the Tower and out in the world. The attacks on Tarrin had probably driven the woman crazy with their subtlety and cunning. This one, by far, had to be the most cunning yet.

Two Tower guards had arrived with a litter, and they were carrying the limp form of the Were-cat away, with the Selani walking beside him, holding his huge hand in hers. Sevren noticed that the hand again had five fingers, and looked for all the world like no damage had been done to it. Concern for the young man in his eyes, Sevren followed the litter out of the chamber.

He missed seeing the Keeper order the Were-cat's blood put into jars and stored in a safe place.

Tarrin drifted in darkness for quite a while before he finally managed to claw himself back into awareness. All of the pain was gone, pain that he didn't really remember that well, but he still felt cold in his bones. The scents in the room were both familiar and unknown, as Allia's coppery scent mingled with the scents of Sevren and three or four others that he didn't know, and those scents mingled with the very familiar scents of his own room. The bedsheets were freshly laundered, and one of the scents was thick with food, as if the person had just come from the kitchens or from dining. The new pillow's goosefeathers were old enough to give up most of their goose smell, but had not been used, so the pillow had not taken on the combined miasma-scent of the people who had laid their heads on it. And underneath it all was the stony smell of age that the Tower itself exuded, a smell of stone exposed to air for thousands of years, a smell that he didn't even notice anymore unless he was paying close attention to his nose. He felt strangely weak and very tired, and the voices he heard sounded curiously distant. But he was awake, and didn't quite feel like going back to sleep, so he stirred and opened his eyes.

Allia was there immediately, smiling down at him and patting his paw. "Welcome back, deshida ," she said in a warm voice, cupping his cheek in her other four-fingered hand. "How do you feel?"

"A little cold, but otherwise alright," he replied as he sat up in the bed, then scooted back so his back was against the headboard. His clothes were folded and piled his desk chair, on the far side of the room, sitting in an upholstered chair that wasn't part of the furniture of his room, held some middle-aged woman he did not know-no, she was one of the Council members. He recognized her dark hair and heart-shaped face. Sevren was standing on the other side of the bed, along with a plump older woman wearing a gray dress of coarse wool. Beside Allia's stool stood a very, very tall dark-haired man that Tarrin recognized as another of the Council. "What happened?"

"You were attacked by a Wraith," Sevren told him calmly. "I'm sorry that I didn't help, Tarrin, but I don't know any weaves to affect a monster like that, and you were moving around too much to try anything else."

"It's alright, Sevren," he waved him off. It was coming back to him quickly, as the Cat gave up the memories of the nightmarish, whirlwind fight. He reached up and put a paw on the side of his head, and felt short hair. Very short. "What happened to my braid?"

"It broke off," Allia told him. "You look slightly funny like that."

"I imagine I do," he replied with a smile. "It'll grow back by tomorrow," he told her. "That's why I keep it long in the first place."

The dark-haired man sat down on the edge of the bed and took Tarrin's face in both his hands abruptly. Tarrin felt fingers of Sorcery flow into his body, searching, reaching, examining that which could not be seen. This man was a powerful healer, Tarrin realized. Probably one of the Tower's strongest. "There's no permanent damage," he said in a deep voice, a very strong one. Tarrin looked up at him, seeing high-boned features that were very strong and somewhat handsome. He had no beard, and his skin was a strange dark bronze, almost coppery in color. His black hair was done up in a single tail that flowed down his back to peek out from behind his right arm. "I still don't see how you survived."

"I agree," Sevren said ruefully. "No offense, Tarrin, but that Wraith should have killed you with the first blow."

"It can't," Tarrin said absently. "At least, not without hitting me in the right place."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Dolanna explained it to me," he replied. "It's a magical creature. Well, so am I. Because of that, we can hurt each other. That means that I can touch it, and it can't help but touch me."

"Ah," the dark-haired man mused. "So it couldn't put its hand through your body."

"More or less," Tarrin affirmed. "It still hurt like anything, but it saved me from instant death. And I think that's what got me stuck inside the symbol," he added. "Sevren said it was a circle."