Armed with a crossbow, the woman’s rapid glance caught a gesture from a dimly seen figure, partially concealed by the woods. Instantly she fired, drawing a hiss of pain from her target. Before she could reload, a green glowing orb came flying through the air, directed by a Blood Mage that had stepped fully into the light on the side opposite of Agaton.

  Without thinking, the Sorcerer shouldered the woman out of the way and stepped in to interpose his body between the now defenseless fighter and the attack. Slinging up his left hand in a warding gesture, Agaton managed to slow and then stop the orb in midair but could not overwhelm it. Sweat suddenly poured down his face, and the young Sorcerer felt the strain of more potent Magic moving against him. Inch by inch, the luminescent globe grew larger and closer, but the man refused to step out of the way.

  Stripped of all cheerfulness and any hint of flakiness, Rachel’s voice sounded as she stepped up on Agaton’s other side. “I have this! I can shield while you attack. After this is over, perhaps we can exchange notes.” The Mage’s voice was unstrained but determined. Something in the Sorcerer twanged with the release of tension and the warm feeling of someone else joining the battle on his side.

  Agaton watched in disbelief as a globe of colored light expanded away from the Mage and pushed the luminous ball of deadly force away from them. It was only then that the Sorcerer heard the yelling voices in his mind that were demanding, << What spell? What spell destroyed the revenants? >>

  Answering in the same mental band, Agaton quickly shouted, << Force pushed through a small tube to focus it, like a cannon of Magic water. It worked better when I hit it in the middle of the chest. >>

  Receiving a combined wave of gratitude, the Sorcerer was amazed when he saw the same casting that had taken him two years to refine executed from three sources to reach out and destroy the other pairs of glowing reddened eyes.

  Relieved, Agaton drew one deep breath before fireballs arced toward the group of defenders. Hearing the gasp of pain from beside him, the Sorcerer turned to see Rachel’s hands turned red with burns as she stubbornly held their shield. Frantic to locate the enemy, the man yelled aloud and mentally simultaneously, “Where are the Blood Mages? I need a target! Give me a target!”

  Jehani was the one who answered, saying, << There are three of them still attacking and one that is semiconscious. I can see their auras, and they all feel equally strong, although much weaker overall than I thought they would be. >> Immediately, the Sorcerer received a map with the fire in the center and the location of each of the Blood Mages scattered in the woods around them.

  The young cat had indicated the injured Blood Mage differently than the other three, so the Sorcerer immediately went on the attack, targeting one of the ablest opponents. Dredging up more energy, the Sorcerer channeled his fear and fury into the force that rushed in compressed form through his Magically constructed tube.

  The destructive ray that appeared from the end of his rod was far more substantial and intense than anything he had been able to cast before. Incinerating its way through the concealing foliage, the bolt of his spell briefly illuminated the Blood Mage before the Magic-user’s figure dissolved into ash.

  Similar rays converged on the other two active Blood Mages, less intense than Agaton’s but combining the Power of multiple attacks of lesser strength to obliterate the opponents just as thoroughly.

  The Sorcerer spun in place, trying to locate the remaining Blood Mage. Even though the man was semiconscious and injured, Agaton knew that he would be capable of reporting back to his Master if not stopped. Before he could do more than a quick survey, the war-trained Friesian stallion galloped into the center area, dropping a smashed and bloodied body onto the ground. Charging behind the equine Familiar, a gasping elderly herding dog managed to say, << His amulet is concealed and in stasis. His Master will only know that he is gone but will be unsure of exactly where his death happened and what caused it. >>

  One of the wild cats interjected, << We checked, and none of the Blood Mages that were hit with that beautiful, nasty ray had enough left of them or their amulet to give any clue or notice. We think it was a clean sweep. >>

  Finally, drawing a deep breath in relief, Agaton heard a sob of pain next to him, and overwhelming panic punched him in the chest. Turning toward Rachel, the man managed to catch the Mage as she fainted, pulling her next to his chest and carefully not bumping her badly burned hands. Without taking his eyes off the unconscious woman, the Sorcerer shouted, “Get a Healer! Rachel is hurt, and she needs help! Hurry!”

  Chapter 36 – Distraction and Focus

  Blagogarsk, Tellus

  TT dropped to the ground and groaned in relief. The drills and exercises that she and Dascha had been practicing in preparation for the next Familiar Trials strained her mind and body in ways she had never imagined before. It was if every single one of her hairs was aching. The Persian cat’s breath rasped in her throat, and for a blissful moment, the once pampered Persian Princess gloried in the feeling of idleness.

  All too soon, TT knew that there would be something else that she needed to practice, whether it was training her body to do something new or uncomfortable. Hearing the soft footsteps of another feline, the Persian open one eye to blearily identify who chose to approach her. Reassured by the sight of her Uncle Jack, TT allowed her heavy eyelid to drop back down and focused on enjoying the next ten seconds of relief.

  Accurately enough, just over ten seconds later, the unhappy voice of her uncle intruded on her peace. << How much longer are you going to be doing these ridiculous exercises? >>

  TT responded in a conciliatory tone, << I do not think they are ridiculous, and neither does Dascha. I need to up my game before we go to the Trials. >> Feeling suddenly aggrieved, the female Persian straightened up a little bit and asked acerbically, << If I remember correctly, you were one of the people pushing me to do these exercises and get ready for the Familiar Trials. When I wanted to skip them, you gave me a big long speech about whether I was bonded or not, I was still a Familiar. You pushed me just as hard as Dascha has to get ready for this! Why are you suddenly hissing and moaning about the time I am spending on preparation? >>

  Looking suddenly embarrassed, Jack acted as if he had an essential grooming need, raising his leg up and straightening the fur on the back of his thigh. TT waited patiently as he performed the ritual but kept her stare on him, so when he looked up as if he had not heard her, he was caught in the demand of her gaze.

  Reluctantly, the male cat answered, << I know the practice is important. However, I am going crazy worried about what is happening with those we left behind. At first, I was relieved to be out of there, but your concerns are contagious. Now I am worrying about everyone day and night. I do not know how you are coping! >>

  TT answered reluctantly, saying, << I am working myself into exhaustion preparing for the Familiar Trials. That is what both you and Dascha told me I needed to do and so I am focusing on that. Even though I am trying to forget everything else, it is not working, but I keep attempting it. Is that not what you guys told me to do? >>

  << Yes, but I have begun to think that it is a bunch of bull. I have decided that I am going to head to the BHB and see if I can get the Clothier to make me some armor so that I am a little tougher than a fluffy Persian when I go back to Terra. I just cannot stay here and keep worrying from a distance. We have found a safer place, so I am going to go back and see what difference I can make. Hopefully, I can get at least some of our friends out. >>

  With that comment, Jack jumped to his feet and sprinted away from TT as if demons were chasing his steps. The young Persian was struck dumb and could only stare after his vanishing figure. Her mind spun touching on her desire to advance in the Trials and her haunted dreams of friends and family begging for help. Caught in a whirlwind of indecision and conflicting loyalties and objectives, TT sat motionlessly.

  The Persian had not sat there very long by herself when Dascha came flying past the finish line of the obstacle course. Part of TT resented the fact that the black Familiar did not even appear to be winded, but right then, she was grappling with bigger issues and decisions.

  Looking quite pleased with herself, Dascha pranced over and laid down with a controlled sigh of relief next to TT. When the Persian did not respond, Dascha looked over at her and asked, << Is something wrong? You are not usually so quiet. >>

  Hesitantly, TT told her what happened with Jack. Dascha heard her recounting but held her peace after TT was done. After a long pause, the Persian added, << I think he is right. It feels somehow selfish of me to be sitting here safe and practicing for the Trials when others are still in danger. They continue to haunt my dreams, either begging me for help or dying in horrible ways. It somehow feels like I should be going with him, traveling back to do what I can to help the last of our people escape. >>

  << Who do you define as our people? Are you talking about saving your clowder? Because I want to tell you right now, if you are, that is not a realistic expectation. If you are saying that there are selected individuals that you believe you and Jack would have a good chance of extracting, that I might agree with, >> replied the black Familiar.

  TT said thoughtfully, << Some individuals, I think. It does not seem right for me to travel very far away from Paris. However, if I go to Paris, it might be possible to save some of the endangered people at the Castle. Maybe even my niece or cousin. I know there is no hope for the clowder, at least in its entirety. >>

  << If it is anything like what Zhanna and I experienced, those that are savable will somehow meet up with you while you were there. This is what it feels like when the gods meddle in your life. Believe me, it is not comfortable! >> grumbled Dascha.

  Another long pause and the two friends shared a companionable silence as the clouds drifted over the soft lavender-blue skies of Tellus. After a long interval of watching the transitory shadows, Dascha murmured, it sounds like you have made up your mind and that you will be going. >>

  Just as contemplatively, TT responded, << Yes, I believe I will be accompanying Jack. >>

  << Are you going to ask the Clothier for armor for you also? >> asked Dascha.

  Suddenly amused, TT just laughed and answered, << Of course, I am. I certainly have enough scars and do not need any more of them. Jack does not have much of a head start on me, and I would feel better if the plan was a little better thought out than just his urge to pack up and go charging off on a rescue mission. What else do I need to consider? >>

  Choking back a laugh, Dascha said, << There is nothing you can do about how Toms act! It will probably be up to you to do the planning. Zhanna and I had discussed your probable needs for protection and weapons. She worked with one of her instructors to make items and spells that might assist you. Let us go talk to my Witch and her Baba. They may have some good ideas. >>

  TT stood up and stretched, arching her back and sticking her tail high in the air. Once she felt her body awareness click back into her conscious control, the scarred white Persian walked toward Bolormaa’s cottage, rapidly exchanging ideas with her friend, the black Familiar.

  Chapter 37 – Plans and Strategies

  Badger Hole

  The discussion with Zhanna and Bolormaa had gone well. Neither woman had argued with TT’s plans or desires. Instead, they offered suggestions and guidelines, as well as a variety of assistance. The Seer told TT that she would check to see what her scrying bowl showed her about possible opportunities and dangers. At the same time, the young Witch promised to travel to the BHB and bring items that would possibly assist the Clothier in the construction of protective armor for Jack and the younger Persian.

  The young Persian left that discussion feeling supported and loved. Her eyes burning with unshed tears, TT looked over at her friend, Dascha, as they paused by the portal that led to the BHB. Awkwardly, TT said, << I have not mentioned this enough, I know. However, I am honored and have been blessed to have you as a friend. If this is the last time we are together, please realize that you will hold a place in my heart until I draw my last breath. >>

  The look in the eyes of the black Familiar spoke volumes, but her comment was typically snarky, << Only till then? I would have expected to have that spot reserved for several lifetimes, girlfriend! You need to work on your gratitude arc! >>

  Choking on her own laughter, TT turned and walked into the portal, knowing that her friend understood. As the cat's foot broke the plane of the doorway, she felt the familiar feeling of rushing along the twisted paths and turns until, between one step and the next, she was walking from a protected courtyard in Blagogarsk and then striding into the warmth of a busy bar.

  Waiting for TT were two smiling people. One was Madrik, the Anchor of the BHB, and the warm and welcoming waitress, Wynn, who was one of TT’s favorite people. It was the woman who broke into speech first, saying, “Welcome back, TT. I am so pleased to see you again! Are you here for something specific, or are you chasing after Jack?”

  << Yes, to both. I have several specific errands, but I am also chasing after Jack, >> answered the Persian.

  Before either Madrik or Wynn could say anything else, a familiar mental voice intruded, asking TT, << Hello, Princess. Rumor has it that you and that old reprobate of an uncle are going to be making a rescue run back to our former home. Is that right? >> It was one of the Mercenary Guild members that had been initially part of a mercenary company under Dov that was voicing the question.

  Surprised, TT answered, thinking that there was no need to keep their plan secret. << Yes, we are planning on going back and collecting whoever has managed to get to Paris for a final rescue run back here. Both Jack and I have been haunted by dreams of those that we left behind. While Jack sees it as his guilty conscience, both Bolormaa and Zhanna think it is a message to us from a Deity or at least some higher Power. After careful consideration, we decided that it is reasonable for us to attempt this. >>

  The man turned to the others at his packed table, putting his hand out with the palm up and saying, “I told you, boys and girls. Now, pay up!”

  The other men and women at the table laughed and began to lay money into his open palm. Still wearing a broad grin, the man turned back and asked, << Would you accept several people to go with you? >>

  Startled, TT peered closely at the man’s face and saw shadows of the same fears with which she had been dealing. Even from halfway across the room, she could feel the burden of guilt that lay on his shoulders, continually battering him with questions like, “How could I survive and escape when so many others died or have no chance to live?”

  The Persian’s throat caught with a swallowed sob, and she murmured, << You do understand how dangerous this is and that anyone that goes has a good chance of being severely injured or killed? >> When the man nodded wordlessly, TT responded, saying only, << It would be helpful if we had a couple of humans to go with us. As determined as we are, at the bottom line, we are cats. No opposable thumbs and without a voice that most people can hear. I tell you, it significantly cramps my style! >>

  The Mercenary Witch immediately said, << My name is Fyodor, and I want to go with you. I keep dreaming about two members of our company that stayed back in Brasilov. I keep picking up feelings of fear and pain from them and hope that somehow they can get to Paris. Whether they make it or not, I can at least feel like I have done my part. >>

  << Welcome Fyodor. I need to go to the Clothier and talk to her about some protective armor. I believe that Jack and I will be ready to go within another day or so if that is possible for you. >>

  Smiling, the Mercenary Witch answered, << That is perfect. It will give me plenty of time to arrange for supplies for us and get them packed in a reasonable manner. >>

  An abrupt movement at the bar startled TT and drew her gaze. A massively built man in the undress uniform of the new Mercenary Guild had come to his feet and was striding back toward where the Persian cat was conversing with Fyodor.

  Reaching the cluster of people around TT, the man completely ignored Madrik and Wynn. Locking his eyes on TT’s face, a gravelly mental voice announced, <> As if tortured, the man added, << Please! >>

  In a private aside to TT, Fyodor whispered, << Gennady never volunteers for anything! He is immensely powerful but as quiet and stubborn as the Earth. >>

  Equally softly, TT asked, << Is he an Earth Elemental Witch? >>

  << Yes. >>

  TT began to reply, planning on putting the man off, but then she saw the horror and the buried agony that shattered into shadows behind his eyes. Despite her best intentions, TT heard herself say, << Then, you may come with us. Welcome, Gennady, to what may very well be a suicide mission. >>

  It was at this point that Wynn interrupted, exclaiming, “You are going to get armor? What a brilliant idea! I hope you are going to let Genevieve make it attractive as well as functional. I cannot imagine wearing something as long as you people seem to wear your protective outfits without going crazy with boredom. Make sure that she gives you a little razzle-dazzle, so you can impress any handsome Tomcats that you run into!”

  Sweeping TT up in her arms, the waitress plunked down in a conveniently empty chair and demanded, “What color scheme are you thinking? Is it going to be shiny or nonreflective? Are you going to have any cool things built into the armor? What about patterns?”

  Hissing her laughter, TT reared up on her haunches and placed both front paws over Wynn’s mouth. So amused that her feline hissing laughter combined with a resounding purr, the silvery-white Persian chortled, << I do not know what the Clothier will want to do. I have not really thought about color or style since I am more concerned with something that is going to improve my chances of survival. Perhaps when you take a break, you can come over and provide your input. I am just trying to catch up with Jack since he has a bit of a head start on me. I do not want the armor design to include something that will not work for me too. >