James Galloway - The Tower of Sorcery

"He's mad!" someone shouted as Tarrin gave out a harsh scream, and then charged.

"Go for the head!" someone else cried, drawing a sword.

It was a clash of rampaging, animalistic fury against desperate self-preservation. Tarrin attacked the men headlong, swatting away only what weapons came in for his face and head, and destroying anything he could grab hold of. Screams of pain and the dying quickly echoed up and down the passages as Tarrin killed anyone that came within reach of his paws, driving forward with such savage ferocity that the score of men remaining were unable to wrap around him, unable to take him from behind. They did eventual fold in around him, and he became a lightning-fast whirlwind of death, killing anyone foolish enough to try to stab at him with a weapon, grabbing swords and hands and arms and yanking their owners within reach of a decapitating blast from the other paw. The men between him and the stairs melted away under his mindless fury, and the others quickly began to spread out further and further. After more than half of them were dead, the remaining men finally realized that they had no chance against him, and they broke and scattered in every direction. The unfortunates that tried to flee up the stairs died swiftly as Tarrin caught up to them and dispatched them with decapitating rakes and head-crushing blows, sending bodies and body parts tumbling back down the stairs.

The young, robed woman at the top of the stairs, immobilized by the sounds of death and pain from below, was the first to see the Were-cat emerge from the dark stairs, covered in gore and eyes blazing with an unholy greenish aura that preceeded the outline of his body as it emerged from the darkness. She was a thin thing, small, pretty, and she stared at him in a horrified gape, seemingly unable to move, paralyzed by his appearance. Others began to appear, armed men and even women, shouting and pointing and rushing towards him. But the pretty young lady was right there, mesmerized in some macabre fashion by the Were-cat's approach. She was unmoving, she was trembling, and she was helpless.

She was the first to die.

They were in place. Lilenne nodded to Keritanima, who tapped Manx on the arm, who gave a signal to his men. They rushed forward quickly with their swords drawn, their boots making little noise on the cold cobblestones of the large paved plaza surrounding the hammer-shaped building. The Wikuni Marines moved quickly and efficiently, covering each of the six entrances in four-man squads. Six Knights advanced over the fence for each team, and they quickly reinforced those Marines at the doors to prevent anyone from coming out or going in. A larger group rushed the massive main doors of the cathedral, which opened into the Nave of the church, where even now the High Priest of Karas was conducting the Service of the Ending Day, the last day of the ride, before a large congregation.

Keritanima was wrapped in an icy resolve. The Ward prevented her from locating Tarrin, but she was still searching the fringes of the barrier, seeking any hint of him should he cross through it. She would not allow them to keep him. He was her brother, and that term meant alot more to her now than it did only a month ago. Allia stood beside her, just as grim and foreboding, and they were both feeling the same rage and fury. They were true sisters, and they were getting their brother back. They had been through too much together for her to abandon him now. She had never believed that she could ever feel the way she did for anyone , but she had to admit that she did. Tarrin was her brother, her friend, her dear companion, and without him, her life seemed empty. The very thought of him being lost to her filled her with a nameless dread, and caused a fury in her so towering that she would be willing to fight the entire Cathedral with her bare hands to get him out of there. She had no idea what was going on, how they were treating him. They could be torturing him!

"Come on," she told Allia in a tight voice. "Darvon, Manx, Azakar, with us," she called. "Let's go knock on their door."

Binter and Sisska moved up behind the Princess with their huge hammer and axe, a truly formidable barrier to any who wished to do her Highness harm, and the group of very dangerous people dismounted and started across the plaza. It took them a moment to reach the huge, bronze-inlaid double doors that led into the Nave, with the Hammer and Scales of Karas etched into that burnished golden covering. Azakar took one door and Binter took the other, and they pushed them open with a sudden jerk that made them boom against their thresholds on the far side.

That sound caused the chanting voice of the High Priest of Karas, a short, pudgy man standing on a pulpit on the far side of the massive chamber, to falter. He looked up the long row of pews, at the wildly mismatched group of people entering the church, and did not pick his sermon back up. The church was very full, and almost all of them, commoners and nobles alike, dressed in their best, turned to look as the group of grim-looking visitors moved into the main gallery.

Keritanima strode in with a look and demeanor that anyone would take for a Queen, her amber eyes blazing as she kept them locked on the pudgy man standing on the pulpit behind the altar. It was a flat look, one of icy danger, and it made the priest slightly uncomfortable.

"All are welcome in the house of Karas," he said in an urbane voice. "Please, take a seat, my children, and we will continue the sermon. There is no shame in being late."

That caused a few light chuckles, but Keritanima's cold expression did not change. "You will release Tarrin Kael, and you will release him now ," she said in a savage voice. "If he is not standing before me in five minutes, I'll have my Marines and your own Knights raze this cathedral to the ground."

"There is no call for this, threatening," the priest said in a calm voice. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, um, Inititate."

"You will address me as Princess Keritanima," she snapped. And for the first time, she meant it. "Darvon," she barked.

"My Lord Irvon, you are holding the Knight Tarrin Kael within this building. You will release him immediately , or the Knights will take him by force. And as you've heard, we've had her Highness bless us with support from her own Marines, as well as a complement of katzh-dashi from the Tower. We have the cathedral surrounded, and the katzh-dashi have Warded this entire area against magic to prevent your acolytes from trying anything foolish."

The man gave the Lord General a look, and then it paled into one of pure horror.

"We know he is here, Lord Irvon," Darvon said calmly, but there was steel behind his eyes. "We will take him when you give him to us, or we will take him after bringing this cathedral down around your ears. Either way, we will take him. The choice of how it is done is yours."

The man Irvon looked unable to speak, but then he somehow got his composure back. The congregation began to whisper and gasp, murmuring excitedly among themselves as they drank in Darvon's words. "You are free to search, my Lord General," Irvon said in a strained voice. "I'll file my people out of here under guard and let you comb the cathedral, but I assure you, you will not find anyone that does not wish to be here. There is no need for violence or destruction."

"Then start turning your people out, Irvon," Keritanima said coldly. "Darvon, bring in a company of Knights to assist the priests with their evacuation of the Cathedral. Just so nobody gets overlooked."

"That is ridiculous!" Irvon said. "I am being very accommodating to you, people, just by offering to empty the Cathedral so you can put your minds at ease. But sending in armed men to take my people prisoner goes just a bit too far. I give you my word as a priest of Karas that we will cooperate with you."