s spine, each ending with a barbed spur.
	This creature was a Demon Lord.  Its name was both the instrument of summoning and a weapon to use against it, but it preferred to be called Gruz, the Lord of the Glabrezuwhich was a fitting title, for it resembled a four-armed, dog-headed glabrezu more than any other creature.
	They stood upon that plateau with their eyes to the northeast.  They could feel him coming.  They knew he was on his way.  And they were ready for him.
	Oh, Gruz knew that this upstart half god half mortal had thought that he had it all figured out.  He knew that this brash abomination thought that hed fooled them all into thinking he had no power, that he came hurtling towards the One and Gruz himself with a towering confidence of victory so outrageous that Gruz had to be both amused and impressed by itand perhaps just a little cautious of it.  His loyal minion ShazBaket had described this half-godling quite well, and stressed that it wasnt his power that made him so dangerous, it was his cunning.  This one was a fox, sly and devious, almost as cunning as a Demon, and had a demonstrated record of being both startlingly resourceful and amazingly lucky.
	Gruz had a contempt for the weak limitation of this foe, but also was forced to admit that that contempt could cost him if he let it consume him.  This half-god with his weakened power and his mortal intelligence was less than an insect to the might and mind of a Demon Lord, but Gruz was the first to realize that even an insect could have a poisonous sting that demanded respect.  ShazBaket had been vehement in her warnings to her Master that this was one foe not to be taken lightly.
	And he would notat least as seriously as a Demon Lord could take a half-god.  After all, no matter how cunning he was, how much power he had, he was still but a mortal, and thus could be killed with ease.
	And when he died, that immortal, divine soul would be free of its shell, and ripe for the picking.  With a gods soul adding to his power, Gruz could supplant Morithindaris and increase his power in the Abyss.
	Yes, he would come with his plan and his assumptions, but in the end he would die on the end of one of Gruzs bone blades.  Gruz would enjoy the challenge of this mortal who was once a god, see how clever he was, allow him to proceed with his plan and see how good it was, just for the sport of it.  And when hed taken his measure of this mortal with a gods soul, when he was no longer amusing, he would fall to the might of the Lord of the Glabrezu.
	Then, this mortals divine soul, and all of the power it contained, would be his.

	They flew through the entire day, and in complete silence.
	Fireflash soared on his massive wings behind Tarrin, who ghosted through the air as if it was where he was born and raised in the air.  His wings shone like the sun under the thick clouds above, which were more ash than water, illuminating them in a way that made them look like blood boiling against a glass, trapped between seconds of the clock and frozen in time.  Ahead of them, within view, was the volcano that marked the ruins of Pyros.  They were within sight of their goal.
	Everything was as Tarrin expected it to be.  The ruins of the city and the surrounding land were literally infested with Demonshundreds of thousands of them.  It was the majority of the Demon Lords army present on Pyrosia, waiting for the command to move.  They did not have camps in the usual sense; Demons did not sleep, so there were no tents.  They needed no light, so there were no fires.  There were, however places for them to sit, and vast piles of bones and refuse that marked the remains of those that they had consumed.  Demons did not need sleep, and they really didnt need to eat, but they enjoyed the act of it nonethelessand those vast trash piles were filled with bones of every kind of animal that they could catch, in addition to the bones of humans.  The Demons lounged about and waited for orders, entertaining themselves with games of intrigue, games involving terrorizing their future meals, and the occasional bloody altercation amongst themselves.
	Beyond the horde of Demons, on the slope of the volcano itself, were where the Demon Lord and the icon of the One were located.  He knew exactly where they were, even as they knew exactly where he was.  They could not hide from one another.  Theyd felt him coming since he passed over the mountains, and hed felt their presence as well.  That was where he was going, but he knew that it wouldnt be as simple as flying over the mobs of Demons below and simply landing there.  No, they wouldnt allow that, and besides, a slow, inexorable walk through the middle of his forces would set the stage for the Demon Lord to make the next decision that would more tightly cinch the noose around his neck.
	For better or for worse, come what may, it was now time.  Tarrin had made all the proper preparations, had set things up exactly the way he wanted them arranged.  There was no need to worry over it; everything was going to work just fine.  There was no reason to worry, no reason to fret, and no reason to be afraid.  No matter what happened, whether he lived or died, victory was already his.
	There was fear beforebut not now.  And that was strangely odd.  He looked down upon the seething horde of Demonkind, felt the raw power of the Demon Lord eclipsing the One ahead of him, and despite knowing he was no match for the power of the Demon Lord, he had absolutely no fear.
	Dolanna, he called, looking behind himself.  Now we part.  Remember, do not help.  When the time comes, Fireflash will know, and he will carry you to me.  Until then, both of you just stay away; Fireflash, do not land.  Understand?
	Fireflash gave a deep rumble of understanding, and Dolanna just looked at him with her heart in her eyes.  Be careful, dear one, she finally managed to say.
	I will, he said, suddenly dropping from the sky like a stone, as Fireflash banked away from the ruins of Pyros and started the other way.  Tarrin hurtled downward, his expression unchanging as the ground raced towards him, until he spread his wings and arrested his descent.  He slowed, then his feet gently touched the tortured earth, and he settled back to the ground.
	He was nearly a half a longspan from the closest of the Demons, and they were already charging towards him.  No doubt they had all tried to teleport on top of him, but found their power blocked by a powerful Ward which prevented itbut that was something to be expected, and the Demon Lord would not be surprised by this, had probably even warned his minions that it would be probable that they wouldnt be able to do it.  The Ward wasnt even half that far out, but they had not even tried.
	Tarrin put the blade of his sword in his left paw, looking down at the blackened blade, peering into the metal, looking into it, beyond it, through it, and seeing the truth of it.  Odd, that it had been right there before his eyes the entire time, but he had never noticedor perhaps it had been a simple case of him not wanting to see that truth, stubbornly refusing to accept it, refuse to even acknowledge that it existed.
	No longer.
	Closing his eyes, he held the sword out at arms length.  His wings erupted in brilliant, incandescent light, brighter than the noontime sun, and then they dissolved.  His wings diffused into discordant flame, and that flame billowed out away from his back, and then was suddenly pulled around him, sucked into the metal of the blade of his sword, cascading around him to vanish into the blade, which began to glow with an angry red light.  It continued until there was nothing left of his wings at all, until all of the fire that they had been was inside the sword.
	It was more than simply cosmetic.  The wings that had both graced him and cursed him for years were no more.  Their flame, and the power that they represented, was now a part of the sword in his paws.  The two long slits in his back were empty, were even now healing over.  He no longer possessed any of the powers that he had had while those wings were a part of him.  He felt strangely weak, drained, diminished, but also in a way, he felt as if he had regained a part of himself that he had lost long ago.
	He was once again mortal.
	But he held in his paws a weapon that held all of that sacrificed power in addition to the power it had already possessed.
	Where Tarrin could never become a god because he was mortal, and thus would forever have his power divided between him and the sword, he instead united that power into the sword itself. 
	He was again a mortal, but he still commanded the power that made him a god, because he commanded the sword.  And where his mortal mind was limited, and thus was limited in how it could bring that power to bear, the sword was not.
	He lowered the sword, which began to glow with an ominous reddish light.  It was not fire, it was an aura of red light that emanated from the metal of the blade itself, casting an eerie pall over the scorched ground around him.  That reddish light wavered, then shimmered, and then suddenly changed to a brilliant white light that was almost blinding to look upon.  He started forward at a slow, measured, almost stately walk, even as the countless hordes of Demons charged towards him after appearing as close as his Ward would allow.  They rushed forwards, getting closer and closer, teeth gnashing and claws clacking and voices calling in chilling tones of the expectation of pleasure at rending the flesh from his bones.
	Until they came close enough.
	The first Demons simply evaporated into a ghastly black smoke as the light from the sword touched them, as divine power lashed out at the Demons and eradicated them.  Quite a few of them were disintegrated by the power of the sword before they could manage to skid to a halt and retreat, for the distance of Tarrins Ward was well past the radius of the swords ability to destroy Demons, cutting off their easiest means of retreat.
	They all backed way off, and the Were-cat simply stood there a moment, as if to allow them to fully appreciate just what he had done, and how it would be virtually impossible for them to get close enough to do him harm.  One of them, a half-breed Alu, cast a spell at him from the distance between them.  The spell, a bolt of lightning, arced across the empty space of hundreds of spans, then the light of his sword overwhelmed the spell and caused it to simply vanish.
	A foot lifted from the ground, and moved forward before coming to rest on hardened lava.  That single step started Tarrin towards the volcano, first at a slow, stately pace, but a pace that got slightly faster with each step.  A lumbering step became a walk, a walk became a gait, a gate became a stride, and that stride evolved into a run.  Head low, sword held to the side of him, Tarrin raced along the shattered land in a direct line for the plateau where the Ones icon rested, and the Demons scrambled to get out of his way.  Many did not, vanishing into puffs of black smoke when the power of the sword touched them and destroyed them, until they began to part the way well in front of him.  With unified action, many Demons began trying to create traps in his way, creating large walls of iron or steel, or using magic to excavate huge pits which were filled with spikes.  It was a clever idea, but they discovered that their efforts were fruitless.  As the Were-cat reached the traps, his body simply passed through the walls, or his feet tread across empty air as if it were solid ground, allowing him to traverse the pits.
	They could not attack him directly, they could not attack him with magic, and they could not impede his progress as he charged towards the icon of the One.  They all simply retreated well out of his path, as the Demon Lord obviously ordered his minions to simply step aside, for they could do nothing to stop him anyway.
	The air got hotter and hotter as Tarrin rushed into the ruined city of Pyros, and became charged with more and more energy as he got nearer and nearer the One.  He could feel the fear of the One grow moment by moment, as well as his distrust of the Demon Lord, who seemed to be doing nothing to try to stop him.  And what was more, both the One and the Demon Lord could sense the feeling of complete and utter confidence that was within him, as well as his total lack of fear.
	He raced through the ruins of Pyros, of buildings half buried under hardened lava flows, along streets covered with dozens of spans of black rock, raced over what was the grandest and most heavily populated city on Pyrosia, raced through a city he had personally destroyed.  His feet tread over the unmarked, unknown graves of tens of thousands, those who had not managed to flee in time, those whom he had killed, but over which he felt no remorse.  The blame for their deaths lay wholly on the One, who had trapped Tarrin into a duel in this city so his worshippers could watch him and bask in their glory, glory that became terror when the One nearly lost, and Tarrins counterstroke caused the volcano to erupt.
	And again, it was about to happen, but this time the onlookers would be Demons, watching a battle between man and god, a battle that would decide the fate of this world.
	A battle that was utterly meaningless in that regard, whose only intent was to save as many lives as possible, on both sides.  The humans that followed the One would be needed to fight the Demons, and would also need to be here to help rebuild this world and make it a place where the One was no longer welcome.
	There was no fear, only excitement, expectation, as he started bounding up the ledge that led to the plateau where his advesaries waited.  His feet touched the warm basalt for just instants as he seemed to float up the shard incline, bounding from footstep to footstep with his sword held low in his right paw and his left before him, fingers spread, even as he began to chant in the discordant language of Arcane magic, speaking the words of a spell.  It was a spell that only required words, and they were recited with perfection despite the fact that he was moving at great speed.  He rose higher and higher, closer and closer to the lip, continuing to chant his spell without interruption.
	It was timed to be completed just as he crested the plateau, and his timing was utterly perfect.  He spoke the last word of the spell just as his foot pushed away from the last.  A billow of flame erupted from his left paw, even as he closed his eyes and whispered, Very good, Tsukatta, as the other sword that he had asked the samurai to send into the Astral appeared in his paw.
	Tarrin ascended from below, directly into the line of sight of both the icon of the One and the Demon Lord, who looked oddly like a glabrezu except for the sword-like bone spurs on the ends of his outer arms instead of pincers.  As he cleared the ledge, both of them attacked him with raw, naked power, the might that beings of their kind could bring to bear.
	Tarrin was inundated with magical power, a pair of coherent blasts of it at its primal state, nothing but unfocused magical power.  It surrounded him, but did not touch him, for the sword in his paws resisted that awesome might, caused it to part before him, leaving him safe.
	He landed on the edge of the plateau, his face emotionless.  They both stared at him for a long moment, but what was more, they stared in shock at the sword he held in his paws.
	That close to it, they could fully assence the weapon, and they finally understood that it truly was all of his power, and power he could command.  By sacrificing his power, he created something even stronger than the sum of Tarrin and Sword.  Now there was only the sword, and its might was more than enough to stand against their attack.
	He threw down the sword that he had called from the Astral and gripped his black-bladed sword in both paws, holding the leather-wrapped hilt, wrenching his paws around it to get a feel for its weight and balance.  You knew it would come to this, Tarrin told them.  Even summoning that monster in front of you isnt going to save you, One.  Im here for your head, and I wont leave without it.
	Brave words for a mortal who now faces two gods, the One sneered, snapping his wings out involuntarily before folding them behind him again.
	Im not afraid of gods, he answered in a low, measured tone.  A shame our first meeting wont be for very long, Demon Lord, he told them towering monstrosity behind which the One stood, keeping it between him and the Were-cat who had nearly destroyed his icon the last time they met.
	Oh, Im sure Ill become quite familiar with you, once I take that sword from you and then take your soul, it answered hungrily.
	Youll be getting a much closer look at it, once its rammed down your throat, Tarrin answered.
	Are you that insane, half-breed? he asked in genuine amusement.  You would fight a god and a Demon Lord with nothing but a sword that holds what little power you once possessed and a mundane weapon pulled from the ether?
	Oh, Im not going to fight you, Demon, Tarrin said, narrowing his eyes.  Ill leave that task to my shadow.  Hell keep you busy until Im done with the One.  Come out, shadow, Tarrin called.  Your sword is waiting for you.
	A spectral paw, like a Wraiths version of a Were-cats paw, slowly appeared from within the rock.  The dark fingers closed around the hilt of the sword, and then the form of the shadow, misty and indistinct, rose up from the rock, taking on a humanoid form.  Two glowing green slits appeared where the head would be, forming the eyes, and that spectral image hefted the sword in both paws, holding it low and ready.  The sword in its paws then slowly expanded, grew longer, the blade turned dark, until it was a perfect replica of the weapon in Tarrins grip.
	The Demon Lord looked at this hazy silhouette, and its glowing red eyes narrowed, then widened in shock.
	Thats right, you cant sense it at all, can you? Tarrin asked.  Not even your much-venerated god-like powers can sense it, can they?  I wouldnt think so.  After all, I made it just for you, Demon.  I even named it in your honor.  Demon Lord, meet Demons Bane.  Im sure youll be very excited to make his acquiaintance momentarily.
	It is impossible! the Demon Lord erupted in obvious dismay.  How have you done this?  It is not possible!  You are no god, you are a mortal!
	What goes on? the One asked suspiciously.
	It is a shadow! the Demon Lord exclaimed, its face both shocked and oddly amused.
	A shadow.  A magical construct, blessed with its own driving sentience, and powered by magic, the creation of a god that could actually outlive the god itself.  Tarrin had had intimate experience with one of these constructs, because one had nearly killed him, it had forced his divine powers to reveal themselves.  Tarrin understood the power that a shadow could possessin some ways, they could be more powerful than the god who created it.  This particular shadow had been created for one purpose, and one purpose alone.
	To kill Demons.
	And it had specific abilities that would allow it to pursue this task with haste and efficiency.  These abilities were not overwhelmingly magicalin fact, they werent very powerful at all.  After all, they couldnt be, because its creator was not a true god.  But for what this shadow was designed to do, those abilities would be absolutely devastating against the foes for which it had been created to destroy.
	Tarrin wondered how Val would feel if he knew that his shadow had provided Tarrin with a tool to help save this world, by showing him how nasty they could be.
	The Demon Lord smirked.  Cleverly done, half-breed.  I didnt expect this of you, it will make my victory over you that much sweeter.  It raised one of the hands protruding from its chest and opened its palm towards them
	and nothing happened.
	Its face was a paragon of shock and dismay.  It took a step back, then raised both its sword-ending arms, and again, nothing happened.
	What is this? it demanded, its glowing red eyes widening.
	All your power and all your intelligence, and you forget the basics, Tarrin said with an evil, slight smile.  This shadow inhibits the powers of any Demon in its proximity.  Its part of his very nature.  You may be a Demon Lord, you may have power equal to a god, but your power is still based on your Demonic nature, and because of that, even you are subject to my shadows ability to block a Demons power.  He pointed his sword at the Demon Lord.  There he is, Bane.  Go get him.
	Without a word, without any sound, the hazy silhouette started walking forward, directly towards the Demon Lord.
	That gruesome face was amazed and shocked, and then it laughed, a hideous sound.  Well done! it complemented.  ShazBaket was not lying when she warned me not to underestimate you, half-breed.  You are everything she described, and more.  But you have made one fatal error.  Do you think that Id be afraid to enter a physical fight?  You may have found a way to block my power, but I know how to use these! he proclaimed, holding out his bone-blade ended arms.
	Then you are in for the shock of your life, Tarrin whispered under his breath as he turned towards the One.  He made no speeches, no declarations.  He simply raised his sword and narrowed his eyes, then rushed forward.
	The One looked uncertain.  He had real fear of Tarrin, of his power, but his arrogance would not allow him to simply flee.  His eyes were locked on that glowing sword for a long second, as he obviously was trying to estimate how much power it had, and how the Were-cat intended to use it.  He seemed to decide, presenting his shield to Tarrin, which immediately burst forth with intense light, then released a volley of the Ones magical power.
	The Were-cat didnt bother to try to block it.  He almost instantly lunged aside, never turning away from the One, sliding aside and allowing the burst of divine power to simply scream by his right side.  The One backed away, turning his shield towards him again, desperately trying to keep the Were-cat from getting close enough to use that weapon.  The One had learned the hard way in their last encounter that god or no god, Tarrin was a better fighter than him, and it was obvious that the Were-cat fully meant to exploit that advantage by making their battle a physical confrontation.  As before, the Ones greatest advantage remained only so long as he could stay away from the Were-cat.
	With a thrust of his wings, the One rose away from the ground, and then grinned with malicious glee when he realized that the Were-cat was not following, understood that when Tarrin unified his power into the sword, he had sacrificed his ability to fly.  Tarrin looked up at him with cold eyes, his expression like stone, even as the first howls of pain began to issue from the Demon Lord.
	The shadow had gotten close enough, and now the Demon Lord understood the lethal nature of his advesary.
	Tarrin and the One both spared a glance.  The shadow, Demons Bane, only came up to the Demon Lords thigh, but that made absolutely no difference.  It had its sword raised and was actively parrying one of the bone blades of the Demon Lord, and in that touch there was a raking, dancing arc of magical energy, erupting from the point of contact, pulling away, and then being sucked down into the darkness of the shadow itself.  The hazy nature of the shadow seemed to fall away as that magical light was drawn into it, making its form more distinct, sharper, more solid.  The shadow was feeding on the energy of the Demon Lord like a parasite, consuming it to fuel itself.  Though the shadow could never consume a being of the Demon Lords power, whose power was limitless, its draining touch would cause him intense pain.  And every touch made the shadow stronger and stronger.
	You, you, you bastard! his mental voice screamed with outrage.  Then, for some unearthly reason, he laughed!  Clever and devious!  You are more of a worthy opponent than I thought, half-breed!
	Now he understood the nature of this opponent.  It could not be touched by a Demon, because the shadow consumed Demonic energy.  Even a touch was enough, it allowed the shadow to drain away the energy that a Demon used to form a physical body within this mortal plane, and if it could keep that contact long enough, drain away all of that power and destroy the Demons mortal form, killing it.  And a Demon could not use its powers against it.  The only way to stop it was to fight it and destroy it using weapons and magic that were not Demonic in origin, things the shadow could not feed upon.
	Weapons that the Demon Lord did in fact possess.
	Jumping back and away from the shadow, the Demon Lord began to chant in the language of magic, preparing to cast a Wizard spell.
	Tarrin fixed his attention again on the One, leaving his shadow to keep the Demon Lord busythat was its role in this fight.  Lock the Demon Lord down, prevent him from aiding the One if in fact he did attempt to help the wounded god rather than simply let Tarrin destroy himor simply to provide a convenient excuse for the Demon Lord not to help, by keeping all of his attention squarely on Tarrins shadow.  The One unleashed another volley of his power, which thundered down towards the ground-bound Were-cat, but Tarrin simply swatted the attack aside with his sword, causing it to rage off into the clouds above.  The Were-cat closed his eyes and laid the blade of his sword in his left paw, bowing his head as he entered into communion with the divine energies within his weapon.  Now was the time to strike, while the Demon Lord was engaged with the shadow, while it was either deliberately or unintentially leaving the One vulnerable.  He had to strike quickly, he had to eliminate the One as fast as possible, before the Demon Lord took measure of the situation, stepped back to look at the situation with a longer eye and understood the real reason he had made the shadow, understood the shadows true purpose, and tried to destroy it.
	A nimbus formed around the Were-cat, a wispy aura of soft red light, a nimbus that curled away and evaporated like mist in the wind.  The blade lost its brilliant white glow, and instead burst into flame, becoming so intense that the rock beneath the Were-cat began to glow red-hot, as the clothes on the Were-cats body were instantly reduced to ash, leaving him nude.  The nimbus around him became painfully bright, until it was as if the sun had come down to earth and rested on the side of the volcano.
	Tarrins form was lost in the brightness, nothing but a dark silhouette in the blazing light, until he opened his eyes.  They blazed with the same light that surrounded him, blazed with the power of his sword.
	Now it was time to see where the Demon Lords true intentions lay.
	Taking the sword in both paws, he turned on one foot, then brought it over his head, as if to cleave an imaginary foe before him in half.  He whipped it over his head, trailing an arc of fire, and levelled the tip at the One.  Fire erupted from the blade in a spiralling cone, twisting around itself, and it raced towards the One at speeds that defied imagination.  The One raised his shield to deflect the attack.
	The look on the face under that helmet was one of consternation when the spiral of fire separated into a multitude of small lances of flame, splitting in every direction like petals in an opened flower.  They blossomed out, going out wide in every direction, then turned back towards the One.  There was no earthly way that the One could stop them all with his shield.
	Tarrin learned from experience, and he had intimate experience with the special properties of the Ones shield.
	The One was forced to race upwards, get all of the lances of flame in front of him, then he struck at them with his own power.  But the lances all veered away as a raging blast of the Ones divine power tried to inundate them, actively avoiding the Ones attempt to destroy them.  Like a horde of angry wasps, the lances of fire swarmed around the Ones power, weaving and bobbing in a dizzyingly fast flicker of motion that was intended to confuse the onlooker.  The One evaded again, this time going down, then formed a defensive barrier of power.  The lances struck the barrier of his power and were nullified, in a chain of angry washes of flame against that magical defense.
	But the lances were not the attack, they were nearly the diversion, the diversion intended to cause the One to turn that shield away from Tarrin.
	With a roar of fury, Tarrin levelled the tip of his sword at the One, and the sword responded.  It attacked the One with everything it had, all the power that it could muster.  The very power that the gods of Sennadar had feared was  loosed at the One, in an all-or-nothing attempt to destroy his icon, and destroy it right now.
	The One turned, and saw it coming.  He struggled to get his shield around in time, knowing that the barrier of divine power he had erected to stop the lances of fire would not be enough to stop this, not in his injured condition.  Help me! he screamed, knowing that it was too late.
	And the Demon Lord was there.  It had already been moving towards the One, and managed to get between him and the Were-cat in time to intercept the attack.  It struck the Demon Lord fully, pushed him back on his massive feet, but did him no harm.  The power of the sword was not enough to do injury to this foe.  The Demon Lord held his ground against that torrent of divine power, fixing Tarrin with a hideous grin of expectation, of anticipation.  And now you know you cannot do me harm.
	And now I know where you stand, Tarrin answered, taking one paw off his sword, and then closing his fist and whipping his paw to the side.  Next time, pick a better partner, One.  Yours just killed you.
	He protects me!  Heurk! the One gasped, as the black bladed sword of Tarrins shadow plunged itself into his back, directly between his wings.  The black tip of the sword erupted from the chest of the Ones armor, as dancing motes of pure energy poured from the edges of the sword.  The shadow took hold of its sword with both paws, then picked up the One by hefting the blade into the air. The One squirmed, dropping his own sword and grabbing the black blade, trying to pull himself off o