The Desert Spear

But just as he felt the mimic’s will breaking, another will touched him, this one a thousand times stronger.

The coreling prince clung to a high treetop above the battle, but its mind rode behind the eyes of the mimic, giving its servant commands through the battle.

Against any other foe, the kill would have been swift, for the mind demon could simply have read its opponent’s thoughts, countering attacks before they were even made. But the thoughts of the human mind were warded, so the demon was blind to his plans. The mimic would still have prevailed, but then the human did something even the mind demon could never have expected.

He dematerialized.

The coreling prince had never seen the like, had not even imagined it was possible for a surface creature. For a moment, it felt a touch of fear at the human’s power.

But only for a moment, because then, as the human broke the mimic’s will, the coreling prince touched his mind. Wards had no power in the between-state. Any hatchling prince knew that. The one had foolishly made himself vulnerable.

The mind demon lashed out before the human could recover from his surprise, and then, at last, it Knew its foe, diving into the river of his memories. The human was horrified at the invasion, but helpless to stop it. His impotent rage was intoxicating.

Then the one surprised him again. A lesser being would have faltered, but the human left his memories behind, unguarded, and threw his will at the mind demon’s own river, the essence of its being. He burst through the mind demon’s defenses, unprepared for such ferocity, and they Linked for just a moment before the coreling prince managed to gather its will and sever the connection.

The moment his mind was free, the one solidified, forcing the mimic to do the same.

“Renna!” the human called, and the coreling prince looked in shock to see the air ripple and the human female appear as if from nothing, stabbing the mimic with her warded knife.

The mind demon ignored the mimic’s howls, studying the distortion in the air about the female, a garment trailing behind her as she struck. Powerful warding, to have hidden her from even a prince’s eyes.

The moment the one solidified, his mental wards returned, but he also lost his control over the mimic. The mind demon had its servant shove him back, then throw itself upon the female, rending the warded garment from her and knocking her to the ground in a tumble.

By the time the one came to his feet, two females squared off before him, identical in appearance and action. The mind demon Linked their thoughts so that the mimic could mirror her utterly, then let go the claws that held it to the trunk of the tree. It stepped out into the open air and drifted to the ground as gently as a falling leaf.

The Painted Man blinked, seeing two Renna Tanners before him, identical down to the blackstem stains on her skin in varying degrees of fading. They looked at him with the same eyes, wore the same ragged clothes, carried the same knife. Even the magic they radiated seemed the same.

He ran to Twilight Dancer’s side, forcing himself to ignore the horse’s labored breaths as he snatched up his great bow and fitted an arrow. He wavered, unsure who to point it at.

“Arlen, she’s the demon!” both Rennas shouted in unison, pointing to the other.

They looked at each other in shock, and then turned back to him. “Arlen Bales,” they said, both planting their hips in the exact way Renna did when she was angry, “don’t you tell me you can’t pick me from a coreling!”

The Painted Man looked at both of them and shrugged apologetically. Two sets of identical brown eyes glared at him.

He frowned. “Why’d I have to play kissy, that night?”

Both Rennas seemed to brighten at the question. “You lost at succor,” they said in unison, and then again turned to look at each other in horror.

The Painted Man concentrated, watching them both at once. “How’d I lose?”

The Rennas hesitated, then looked at him. “Beni cheated,” they admitted. A murderous gleam came into both their eyes, and they turned to each other once more, raising their knives.

“Don’t!” the Painted Man said, raising his bow. “Give me a moment.”

They both spared him an irritated glance. “Corespawn it, Arlen, just let me kill the ripping thing and have done!”

“You ent a match for it, Ren,” the Painted Man said, and both women glared at him again. “Real Renna would mind me,” he added.

The women threw back their heads and laughed at that, but they made no move to attack each other. The Painted Man nodded.

“Might as well come out!” he called loudly into the night. “I know you’re there! That changing demon ent smart enough for this!”

There was a rustle off to the side, and a demon appeared. It was small and slender, with an oversized head and a high, knobbed cranium. Its eyes were huge black pools, and it bared only a single row of sharp teeth at him. The talons at the end of its delicate fingers were like an Angierian lady’s painted nails.

“Been wondering when I’d run into one of you bastards,” the Painted Man said. He tapped the large ward tattooed in the center of his forehead. “Painted myself up special for it.”

The demon tilted its head, studying him. Beside him, the two Rennas stiffened slightly.

“Your mind may be shielded, but this female’s is not,” the Rennas said in unison, as the demon continued to regard him. “We can kill her at will.”

The Painted Man drew and fired in an instant, but the demon traced a quick ward in the air, and there was a flash of magic that reduced the arrow to ashes before it struck home. He drew another arrow to his ear, but it seemed a useless gesture against this new demon. He lowered his bow, easing the tension in the string.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“What does your steed want from the insects its tail swats?” the Rennas asked. “You are an annoyance to be crushed, nothing more.”

The Painted Man sneered. “Come try.”

But the Rennas shook their heads. “In time. You have no drones to defend you, while I have many. Soon I will lay open your skull and consume your mind, but it amuses me to let you bargain for the female first.”

“You said I had nothing you want,” the Painted Man said.

“You don’t,” the Rennas agreed. “But giving up something you wish to keep hidden will cause you pain, and that will sweeten the meal we make of your mind.”

The Painted Man’s eyes narrowed.

“Where did you learn of us?” the Rennas asked.

The Painted Man glanced at them, and then looked back at the mind demon. “Why should I tell you? You can’t pull it from my head, and she doesn’t know.”

The Rennas smiled. “You humans are weak about your females. It is a failing bred carefully into your ancestors. Tell us, or she dies.” As they spoke, both women lifted identical warded knives and stepped close, holding them to each other’s throats.

The Painted Man raised his bow, wavering it between them. “I could shoot one. Got a half chance of killing your changeling.”

The women shrugged. “It is only a drone. The female, however, holds great meaning to you. You will suffer much if she dies.”

“Great meaning?” the Rennas asked, and the Painted Man turned to look at them fully. There was fear in their eyes, and despair.