“Why all these rafts, if there’s a perfectly good bridge?” Renna asked, gesturing toward the nameless collection of huts, too few to even be called a hamlet. Each tiny structure had a raft out by the water, surrounded by wards staked into the bank of the Dividing.
A few demons prowled the area, testing the wards on the huts, but Renna was wrapped in her warded cloak, and Arlen radiated such power that the occasional hiss and eye contact were enough to keep the corelings back from him as they walked along the riverbank.
“Merchants who don’t want the bridge guards rooting through their goods sometimes pay raftsmen to take them across the Dividing,” Arlen said. “Usually because they’re carrying something, or someone, they shouldn’t.”
“So we can hire one?” Renna asked.
“Could,” Arlen said, “but that would mean waiting till dawn and dealing with more rumors. Can’t swing my arm in these parts without hitting someone who acts the fool ’cause they think I’m the Deliverer.”
“Don’t know you like I do,” Renna smirked.
“There,” Arlen said, pointing to a raft big enough to carry Twilight Dancer comfortably. There was a great groove in the riverbank where it was hauled up and down each day. He handed Renna one of his ancient gold coins. “Go and leave this by the door.”
“Why?” Renna asked. “It’s new moon. He ent gonna see us take it, and even if he hears, he sure as the sun ent gonna cross his wards to run after us.”
“Ent thieves, Ren,” Arlen said. “Smuggler or no, someone earns their keep with that raft.” Renna nodded and took the coin, leaving it on the hut’s doorstep.
Arlen examined the raft. “Not even a ripping water ward!” He spat on the bank.
Renna returned, kicking at one of the stakes. “These ent worth spit, either. Dumb luck much as anything, protectin’ these rafts.”
Arlen shook his head. “Can’t explain it, Ren. Any ten-year-old in the Brook can out-ward most folk in the Free Cities, where they been raised not to trust anyone without a guild license to ward a ripping windowsill.”
“Can you ward it now?” Renna asked, nodding at the raft.
Arlen shook his head. “Not so it’ll be dry before dawn.”
Renna looked out at the wide expanse of water. Even with her warded eyes, she couldn’t see the far side. “What happens, we try to cross without wards?”
“There’s usually froggies that hide right at the bank,” Arlen said. “We kill those first …” He shrugged. “It’s a new moon. No light to shine on the raft from above and point us out to the river demons, so odds are we’ll get across the deep water safe. By the time we reach the far bank, the sky will be lighter and most of the froggies will have gone back to the Core.”
“Froggies?” Renna asked.
“Bank demons,” Arlen said. “Folk call ’em froggies because they look like big fly frogs, ’cept they’re big enough to eat you like a fly. They jump up out of the water and catch you with their tongues, swallowing as they drag you in. Put up too much of a fight, and they dive into the river to drown it out of you.”
Renna nodded and drew her knife. There were fresh blackstem wards painted on her knuckles. “So what’s the best way to kill one?”
“With a spear,” Arlen said, taking two and handing her one. “Watch.”
He moved slowly toward the water’s edge, emitting a shrill whistling noise. For a moment all seemed calm, and then the water by the bank exploded as a giant, wide-mouthed coreling sprang out. It gripped two stubby, webbed feet on the bank and snapped its head, shooting its thick, slimy tongue at him.
But Arlen was ready and stepped easily to the side. The demon croaked and leapt fully onto the bank, covering some ten feet in a single hop. It shot its tongue at him again, but again Arlen sidestepped, this time charging in close before the tongue could retract. With a quick, precise thrust, he put his spear through the folds of tough skin at its chin and up into its brain, twisting sharply. The crackling magic lit the night as he pulled the spear free, and when the demon struck the ground, he stabbed down once more to be certain it was dead.
“Trick is to get ’em up on shore,” Arlen said, returning to Renna’s side. “Dodge the first tongue, and they hop out of the water to try again. They’re good jumpers, but their forelegs ent got the reach of a spear. You can stab from a safe distance.”
“Ent much fun in that,” Renna said, but she gripped her spear and headed for the water, trying to mimic his whistle.
She expected it to take a few moments to get a response, but almost instantly the water burst and a bank demon was shooting its tongue at her from more than a dozen feet off. She pivoted out of the way, but she wasn’t quite fast enough, and the tongue caught her a glancing blow, knocking her down.
Before she could recover, the demon leapt from the water, landing on the bank and trying again. She rolled to the side, but the tongue caught her about the thigh, slowly drawing her in. Renna dropped her spear to claw at the riverbank, but to no avail. The coreling’s mouth, wide enough to swallow her whole, was filled with row upon row of short, sharp teeth.
Renna ignored it, turning instead to Arlen, who was already running her way.
“You stay out of this, Arlen Bales!” she growled, stopping him short.
She was almost in range of the bank demon’s teeth when she turned back to it. She flicked the sandal off her free foot and kicked it in the jaw with a flash of magic. The demon’s tongue slackened slightly, and Renna twisted, cutting right through it with her knife. As the coreling recoiled, she leapt to her feet, stabbing it in the eye. She hopped back to avoid its death thrashes, then moved in quick, putting her knife in its other eye to ensure the kill.
She looked back at Arlen, daring him to criticize. He said nothing, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes glittered.
There was shouting from the hut, and lamplight flickered in one of its windows, roused by the commotion.
“Time to go,” Arlen said.
The one was on the move. The coreling prince hissed in frustration, but immediately leapt upon its mimic’s back and took to the sky, following his trail. It had been a risk, letting the human live another cycle, but one the mind demon had deemed acceptable in hope that it might learn how the one had come into powers long since stamped away. The one killed drones nightly, but their number was insignificant, as were the weapons he spread. He was not a unifier, like the dangerous one to the south.
But it was in his power to be. If he but called, human drones would flock to him, and if that happened, they could threaten the hive.
And now he was moving with great decision back toward the human breeding grounds. The coreling prince was certain he would call to the human drones then, and a unification would begin. That could not be tolerated.
The mind demon spent the remainder of the first night tracking the one. Just before dawn it reached the river and hissed when its prey came into sight. Nothing could be done now with the sun about to rise, but it would find them quickly the next night.
The mimic dropped lightly to the riverbank, bending low so the coreling prince could dismount. As they began to dematerialize, the mimic growled softly, sensing its master’s anticipation for the kill.
Renna and Arlen kept riding when the sun rose, passing a branch in the road with an old signpost a few hours later.
“Ent stopping in the town?” Renna asked.
Arlen looked at her. “You can read?”
“Course not,” Renna said. “Don’t need to read to know what a sign on the road is for.”
“Point,” Arlen said, and she could sense him grinning beneath his hood. “Ent got time to waste with other towns right now. I need to get to the Hollow quick.”
“Why?” Renna asked.
Arlen looked at her for a long moment, considering. “A friend’s got herself into a fix,” he said at last, “and I reckon it’s more than a little my fault for staying away so long.”
Renna felt a cold hand clutch her heart. “What friend? Who is she?”
“Leesha Paper,” he said. “Herb Gatherer of Deliverer’s Hollow.”
Renna swallowed. “Is she pretty?” She cursed herself the moment the words left her lips.
Arlen turned his head back to her with a look that mixed annoyance and amusement. “Why does it still feel like we’re ten summers old?”
Renna smiled. “Because I’m not one of these folk sees you as the Deliverer. They din’t see the look on your face after you clicked teeth with Beni in the hayloft.”
“Your kiss was better,” Arlen admitted. She tightened her arms around his waist, but he shifted uncomfortably.
“We’ll cut off the road soon,” he said. “Too many folk on it these days. There’s a path I know will take us to one of my caches for fresh weapons and supplies. From there we can ford the Angiers River and be in the Hollow in a couple of nights.”
Renna nodded, swallowing a yawn. She had felt charged with energy after killing the bank demon, but as always, that added strength had faded away with the sun. She dozed in the saddle for a time until Arlen gently shook her awake.
“Best dismount and put your cloak on,” he said. “Getting dark, and we have a few hours left to go before we get to my cache.”
Renna nodded, and he pulled the horse up. They were in a sparsely wooded area with tall conifer trees spaced widely enough that they could walk on either side of Twilight Dancer. She dropped from the saddle, her sandals crunching on the forest floor.
She reached into her satchel and drew forth the warded cloak. “Hate wearing this thing.”
“Don’t care what you hate,” Arlen said. “Corelings are thicker this side of the Dividing; more towns and ruins to draw them. Treetops around here get rife with woodies, swinging from branch to branch and dropping on you from above.”
Renna looked up suddenly, expecting a demon to be hurtling toward her at that very moment, but of course they had not risen yet. The sun was only just setting.
As the shadows grew, Renna watched the mist rise slowly through the detritus of needle and cone carpeting the ground between the trees. It curled around the tree trunks like smoke rising up a chimney.
“What are they doing?” she asked.
“Some like to materialize up in the trees, out of sight so you don’t see ’em coming,” Arlen said. “They usually wait till you pass, then drop on your back.”
Renna thought of the rock demon she had killed in similar fashion, and drew her warded cloak tighter about her, glancing up in every direction.
“There’s one up ahead,” Arlen said. “Watch close.” He let her take Twilight Dancer’s lead and walked a few feet ahead of them.
“Ent you gonna take your robe off?” Renna asked, but Arlen shook his head.
“Gonna show you a trick,” he said. “Don’t even need your skin warded, you do it right.”
Renna nodded, watching intently. They walked a bit farther, and then, as predicted, there was a rustle from above and a bark-skinned demon fell from the trees toward Arlen’s back.
But Arlen was ready. He twisted and ducked his head under one of the falling demon’s armpits, putting his free arm around the coreling’s neck from behind, grasping it under the snout. With a sharp pivot, he turned, letting the force of the demon’s own fall break its neck.
“Sweet day,” Renna gasped.
“There’s several ways to do it,” Arlen said, putting a warded finger sizzling through the fallen demon’s eye to confirm the kill, “but the principle’s the same for all. Sharusahk is about using their power against them, like wards do. It’s how the Krasians survived these last centuries, fighting alagai’sharak every night.”
“They’re so good at killing demons, why do you hate ’em so?” Renna asked.
“Don’t hate the Krasians,” Arlen said, and then paused. “Not all of them, anyway. But their way of life, making slaves of everyone who ent a man and a warrior … it ent right. ’Specially not forced on Thesans at the end of a spear.”
“What’re Thesans?” Renna asked.
Arlen looked at her in surprise. “We are. All the Free Cities. I mean for ’em to stay free.”
The one had traveled far while the coreling prince waited out the day in the Core, but the mimic was swift, and it wasn’t long before the mind demon caught sight of its prey, walking his mount through a sparse copse of trees. The mind demon circled above, watching as wood drones attacked the human. The one killed these with quick efficiency, hardly slowing his pace.
The mind demon’s cranium throbbed, and the mimic banked to the side and dove into the trees, its wings melting away as it took the form of a giant wood demon. It caught a thick tree branch before they had fallen far, smoothly pulling out of the fall and into forward motion. It swung easily from branch to branch, still carrying its mind.
They came to a stop at a high vantage, watching the one approach. There was no sign of the female, though the mind demon could not recall her trail ending. It sniffed the air, tasting her. She had been about, and recently, but it could not sense her now.
Pity. She would have been a useful tool against the one, and her mind was deliciously empty, yet flavored with powerful rage. A meal worth tracking after the one’s mind had been similarly consumed.
“ ’Nother woodie ahead,” the Warded Man sighed as what must have been the eighth wood demon that hour swung into view. It was larger than most, almost too big for the tree branches to support. Closer to a rock demon.
“Can I try this one?” Renna asked.
The Warded Man shook his head. He glanced back at her, but it took him a moment to find her. The warded cloak still made him dizzy, and it was easy for his eyes to slide right off it without seeing, if his mind was not focused.
“You need to sleep when we get to the cache,” he said, “and you won’t if you’re all charged with magic.”
“What about you?” Renna asked.
“Got warding to do tonight. I’ll sleep when we’re back in the Hollow,” he said, watching the demon out of the corner of his eye to see where it perched for its ambush.
But the wood demon didn’t wait for them to pass, picking up momentum and launching itself at him from the front. It was an unexpected move, but the Warded Man still had plenty of time to duck to the side, reaching out for its lead talon to twist and turn its own force against it.
He must have misjudged the length of the demon’s limbs, though, because he somehow missed its clawed foot, which grabbed at his robed leg and pulled him from his feet. They both hit the ground heavily, and the coreling rolled away, rising on equal footing with him.
They faced off, and immediately the Warded Man knew something was different about this demon. It circled him patiently, waiting for opportunity. A few times, the Warded Man lowered his eyes or seemed to turn away, inviting attack, but the coreling didn’t take the bait, watching him intently.
“Smart one,” he mused.
“Need help?” Renna asked, reaching for her knife.
The Warded Man laughed. “Be a cold day in the Core when I need help killing a lone wood demon.” He reached down to open his robe.
The coreling growled and launched itself at him before he could untie the garment, tackling him to the ground. The Warded Man fell on his back and kicked at it, delivering a blow greater than even Twilight Dancer could have done, but the demon’s arms became the tentacles of a lake demon, wrapping tightly around him. They dug in with a sharp, horned surface even as suckers latched on to his robe, holding it tight and keeping his wards covered. The demon’s maw grew before his eyes, becoming like a bank demon’s, large enough to swallow his entire head and shoulders.
The Warded Man snapped his head forward, butting the demon’s lower jaw with the impact ward atop his head. There was a flash and the demon howled as a few of its teeth shattered, but there were hundreds more, and it did not let go its grip. The Warded Man had exhaled sharply with the blow, and now found he could not draw a new breath.
With the last bit of air in his lungs, the Warded Man emitted a shrill whistle, and Twilight Dancer tossed his mighty head, yanking the lead away from Renna and charging in, horns lowered. They tore through the demon’s shoulder in a blast of ichor and magic, and it shrieked in agony, finally relaxing its grip. The Warded Man rolled away, gasping for breath.
The coreling melted away from Twilight Dancer’s horns and grew again, its armor shifting and changing color as it became a rock demon. It swiped a backhand blow at the stallion, never taking its eyes off the Warded Man.
Even without its barding and saddlebags, Twilight Dancer weighed nearly a ton, but the powerful demon still sent the horse flying. He struck a tall tree, and the Warded Man could not tell if the resulting crack was the tree’s trunk or his horse’s spine.
“Dancer!” the Warded Man screamed, tearing the robe from his body and launching himself at the demon. Renna ran to see to the horse.
The Warded Man’s blows rocked the coreling back, and it gave ground freely under the assault, but the wound Twilight Dancer’s horns inflicted was already healed, and the Warded Man’s punches and kicks seemed to have no lasting effect. Its flesh pulsed around the scorched impact points, healing them instantly.
He knocked the demon down on one arm, but it dug its great talons into the ground, throwing an enormous clump of dirt and wet leaves at him. The Warded Man had no chance to dodge, and was struck full-on. He recovered his feet quickly, brushing the filth from him, but he knew his wards were weakened where it clung to him, if they still worked at all.
But he was no more injured than the coreling, and there was no way he was going to let this powerful demon get away. They circled again, baring their teeth and growling. One of the demon’s arms became half a dozen tentacles, each ten feet long and ending in a sharp horn.
“Night, what part of the Core did you come from?” the Warded Man asked. The mimic gave no answer, lashing out with the new limbs.
The Warded Man dodged to the side, rolling and coming up at a run to get inside the demon’s reach. There was a gap in the armor plates at its armpit, and he drove his stiffened fingers, painted with piercing wards, into the crevice, trying to reach some vital part that might cause lasting damage.
The coreling screamed and twisted, and its flesh dissolved around his hand. It was only then, when he was in contact with the demon as it changed, that he realized what it was doing. It was dematerializing and reforming, the same way he did, or any coreling for that matter. This demon could simply reform in different ways. A thousand possibilities opened to the Warded Man at the realization, too many to even consider. He brushed the epiphany aside like an irritating fly and focused on his adversary, striking again.
In the split second when the demon was in transition, the Warded Man dematerialized as well, intermingling with it slightly to keep it from solidifying. The demon still felt solid to him, but Renna’s scream sounded as if she were a mile away. He knew how it must seem to her, both of them fading away, ghostlike, but there was nothing for it.
He’d fought another demon this way once before, and knew that in this state strength and wards were meaningless. It was will that was power here, and the Warded Man knew his will was greater than any demon’s.
He locked on to the mimic demon’s very molecules, keeping them scattered and immaterial, shepherded by his will. He sensed the creature’s sudden fear, and returned it with his anger and rage, dominating its will the way a parent would a disobedient toddler.
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 Warded 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 Warded 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 Warded 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 Warded 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 Warded 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 Warded 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 Warded Man said. He tapped the large ward tattooed in the center of his forehead. “Warded 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 Warded 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 Warded 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 Warded 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 Warded Man’s eyes narrowed.
“Where did you learn of us?” the Rennas asked.
The Warded 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 Warded 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 Warded Man turned to look at them fully. There was fear in their eyes, and despair.
“I’m sorry, Ren,” the Warded Man said. “Din’t mean for this. Warned you.”
Both Rennas nodded. “I know. Ent your fault.”
The Warded Man raised his bow at them. “Ent gonna be able to save you this time, Ren,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Not even if I knew which one was you.” Renna bit back a sob, and he could almost feel the mind demon’s pleasure.
“So you’re gonna have to be strong and save yourself,” he said. “ ’Cause that monster’s the face of evil, and I ent gonna let it get away.”
The mind demon stiffened as it realized what he meant, but it was a second too late, as the Warded Man dropped his bow and leapt at it, covering the distance between them in an instant. Before it could command Renna and the mimic to kill each other, his warded fist struck the coreling prince’s bulbous head with an explosion of magic.
The slender demon was thrown several feet by the force of the blow and landed on its back, hissing in rage. Its cranium throbbed, and the Warded Man could feel the thrum of power it sent out, though it did him no harm.
Behind him, the mimic shrieked, but the Warded Man ignored it, leaping at the mind demon again, pinning it and delivering heavy blows. Each wound healed instantly, but he did not let up, keeping it stunned until he could find a way to kill it. If it dematerialized, he was prepared now to match wills against it.
But the mind demon stayed solid, perhaps fearing just such a thing. With each blow, it grew more dazed, taking a split second longer to recover. The Warded Man slipped around the demon into a sharusahk choke hold, the pressure wards on his forearms growing warm as they flared against its throat, building power. It would be over in seconds.
But then a wind demon crashed into him, breaking the hold and knocking them apart. The Warded Man rolled atop the wind demon and struck it hard in the throat, stunning it, but a wood demon swung down at him from the trees before he could finish it off. It was followed quickly by several more.
The mind demon felt its connection to the mimic sever when the shock from one’s blow blasted through its skull. It had never known such pain. In the ten thousand years since it was hatched, no creature had ever dared to strike the coreling prince. It was unthinkable.
The demon struck the ground hard, and immediately sent its distress out in a general call. Drones would come from all around to answer it. The mimic answered with a cry, but failed to come. The human leapt atop the mind demon, hammering it about the head with his wards.
Used to fighting through its mimic, the mind demon was unprepared for the pain and confusion of physical combat. The human gave it no time to recover, and it was helpless to prevent the one establishing a primitive dominance hold. His wards activated, sucking the coreling prince’s own magic and turning it into pain.
That might have been the end, but at last a wind drone answered its call, knocking into the one and breaking his hold. Other drones followed, flocking to defend the coreling prince. The moment it was knocked away, the mind demon healed its wounds, hissing in outrage at the affront. It sent another call, meaning to bury the one in drones. It could sense dozens of them in the area, running hard to join the melee, but the mimic was strangely absent.
The human flung the wood drones from its path, charging the coreling prince again, but this time it was ready, drawing a ward that sent a blast of air to strike the one like a physical blow, hurling him across the clearing. By the time he rose, he was surrounded again by wood drones. At the mind demon’s command, they broke branches from the trees to use as weapons, circumventing even the muddied wards of forbiddance on the human’s skin.
The mimicking of her words and actions was horrifying enough, but Renna was truly revulsed when the mind demon rose up to take control of her voice and she realized it had been hiding within her all along, like a stowaway suddenly taking control of the cart.
It was an unspeakable violation, worse than anything Harl had ever done to her. Worse than the outhouse, worse than being staked at night. She could feel the demon burrowing through her thoughts like a field vole, taking her most cherished and private memories to use as weapons against Arlen.
The thought filled her with rage, and she sensed the mind demon’s pleasure at the response. I’ve taken you before, it whispered in her thoughts. Many times.
Renna looked at Arlen, and despaired at the resignation in his eyes. She had thought she was strong enough to walk his path. That she could do anything he could. But now that lie was proven. All she could do was get him killed.
She choked on a sob and tried to raise her knife to bury it in her own throat, but the mind demon controlled her body like a Jongleur’s puppet, and she could not act against its will. Even if Arlen guessed right and somehow managed to kill the mimic, the mind demon could make her stab him in the heart just as easily. She wanted to warn him, but the words would not come.
But then the look in Arlen’s eyes changed, as if he had come to some decision, and he gazed at her with a trust no one had ever shown her before.
“You’re gonna have to be strong and save yourself,” he said. “ ’Cause that monster’s the face of evil, and I ent gonna let it get away.”
Her fear fell away at that look, and her eyes hardened. She nodded, and felt the mind demon’s sudden start, taking Arlen’s meaning the same moment she did. It tried to react, but it was not quick enough as Arlen struck a blow to its head that lit the darkness with magic.
The demon’s presence in her mind vanished, leaving Renna stunned and disoriented. She glanced at the mimic, still in her form, and saw it stagger similarly, cut off from its mind.
Tightening her grip on her father’s knife, Renna growled and leapt at the creature, putting the blade into its bare midriff. She put her free arm around the demon, pulling it in close as the blackstem wards on her skin activated. Magic shocked through her muscles, filling her with strength as she heaved the knife upward, opening up the creature from navel to collar.
The mimic’s body may have looked like her on the outside, but the black, stinking ichor that burst from the wound was nothing from the surface world.
She looked at its face, the same face she had seen a thousand times in the surface of water. Renna was almost brought to tears by the pain and confusion in her own eyes, but then the face snarled like a dog, and its teeth began to elongate as it hissed at her.
Renna twisted as the mimic lunged, turning its own energy against it as Arlen had taught her. She grabbed its thick braid in her free hand as it passed, pulling it up short from its fall and baring its nape. The move gave such power to her pivot and slash that her knife passed through its neck effortlessly.
Just like that, the fight was over. The demon’s body fell to the ground lifelessly, and she was left holding her own head by the hair, eyes rolled back and black ichor dripping from the neck. She inhaled, taking what seemed like her first breath in hours.
She looked up, expecting to see the mind demon dead at Arlen’s feet, but instead she saw Arlen surrounded by wood demons holding branches in their claws, and the mind demon backing away. The corelings took no notice of her yet, focused solely on Arlen.
Renna looked around, dropping the head to the ground as she snatched up her warded cloak. The mimic had torn the ties at its throat, but the garment was otherwise intact. Sheathing her knife, she flung the cloak around her shoulders, putting up the hood and using both hands to hold it closed from the inside.
She rose carefully, walking toward the battle scene at a slow, even pace to allow the wards their greatest advantage. One of the wood demons struck Arlen across the shoulders as she drew close to him. He cried out and was knocked to the ground, spitting blood. The other demons followed suit, and he rolled desperately to avoid their blows, with only partial success.
She wanted nothing more than to rush to Arlen’s aid, but she knew in her heart that he would not want her to. The mind demon stood boldly again, no longer trying to escape. It would be worth more than both their lives, if she could show it the sun.
The Warded Man felt his ribs snap as the branch struck him to the ground. He heaved up a foul mix of bile and blood and spit it into the dirt.
Before he could recover, another branch struck him. He rolled to dodge the third, and the fourth, but he could not regain his footing to rise, and the fifth struck him full in the face, tearing skin and popping one of his eyes from its socket to hang from a string of muscle. The sound of the blow echoed in his head, drowning out all else.
With his one good eye, he looked up, seeing several demons swinging branches at once. For a moment he thought it was his time to die, but then his senses returned for a split second and he cursed himself for a fool.
As the branches came down, they struck only mist. The Warded Man slipped from the center of the copse, reforming behind one of the wood demons, his wounds healed instantly. He kicked out one of the demon’s legs, grabbing it by the horns as it fell and using its own weight to flip it over and break its neck. He leapt at the next demon, putting his thumbs through its eyes. A third demon swung its branch at him, but again he dematerialized, and it struck only its blind brother. The Warded Man solidified again, stabbing his stiffened fingers through a crevice in the attacking demon’s barklike armor and bursting its heart like a popping chestnut.
He had known no mortal weapon could harm him if he saw its approach, but now he realized it was much more than that. Anything short of death or dismemberment could be healed in an instant. The corelings around him had become nothing but flies to swat from his path. They weren’t smart enough to dematerialize offensively on their own, and the mind demon would be wary to do it through them, lest it meet his will on that other plane.
He ignored the remaining wood demons, passing through them like a ghost and only solidifying when the path to the coreling prince was clear. He looked at the demon, and a wave of dizziness overcame him. The confidence that had suffused him a moment earlier vanished as he realized he was only just discovering powers the demon had known for thousands of years. It bared its fangs and lifted a talon to draw a ward in the air.
But then the tip of a blade burst from its chest, flaring bright with magic. The dizziness left him as Renna’s cloak fell away and he saw her holding the demon around the throat with her free arm while the contact wards along her blade built in power.
The coreling prince shrieked in surprise and pain, and the Warded Man did not hesitate, leaping forward to strike hard blows to keep it off balance. Renna let go her knife, whipping her brook stone necklace around its throat. The wards flared, and the mind demon opened its mouth as if to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, its cranium pulsed, and the resulting thrum struck the Warded Man like a harsh wind, knocking him back.
Renna seemed not to notice the effect, but all through the trees and seemingly for miles around, demons shrieked in agony. A wind demon dropped from the sky, crashing through the branches of a tree to hit the leaf bed, dead. The wood demons that had attacked him likewise collapsed, killed by the demon’s psychic scream.
And in that instant, the mind demon fled.
The coreling prince had never known fear. Never known pain. It was above such things, tasting them only vicariously through the minds of its drones or its prey—delicacies to be savored.
But there was nothing vicarious about the death of its mimic or the blade in its chest. The choking cord around its throat and the blows that scattered its attempts to assert its power. It screamed, and felt the minds of drones all around burn out from the pain.
The one was distracted for an instant, and the coreling prince took the chance, dematerializing and fleeing for the Core. There it would bond a new mimic and grow strong for the next cycle, when it would return with a host of drones the likes of which the surface had not seen in millennia.
Renna shrieked, and the Warded Man whirled back to see the mind demon melt away from her grasp, breaking into mist that fled down a nearby path to the Core.
Instinctively, he followed.
“Arlen, no!” Renna screamed, but it was a distant thing.
The path to the Core was like following a brook upstream in the dark. He could feel the path, but sight had no meaning on the path to the Core. He simply felt the flow of magic stemming from the center of the world and followed back against the current. The Warded Man kept his will focused on the evil taint of the coreling prince ahead of him, and it seemed they raced for miles before he drew close enough to grab at the demon.
He had no hands with which to grab, but he willed his essence to latch on to the demon, and like two men blowing smoke into the same cloud, they mingled and their wills clashed.
The Warded Man had expected the demon’s will to have weakened, but it was no less potent now, and they clawed through each other’s minds, jabbing fingers into any delicate crevice they could find. The coreling prince laid bare all his life’s failures, mocking him with the fate he had abandoned Renna to, or brought upon the Rizonans. Teasing him with images of Jardir forcing himself upon poor innocent Leesha.
It was almost too much, but in his pain he lashed out, cracking through the mind demon’s own defenses. He saw in that moment a glimpse of the Core, a place of eternal darkness, but lit with magic’s glow more brightly than the desert wastes.
Instantly the demon’s will retreated, ceasing its attack to protect its own thoughts. The Warded Man sensed the advantage and pressed his assault. The coreling prince shrieked in his mind as he learned of the Hive.
The Warded Man might have won then, if not for the horror of the sight. The corelings that came to the surface to hunt were but the barest fraction of what the Core could spew forth. Millions of demons. Billions. For the first time since he had found the wards of old, he despaired that they could ever be defeated.
The mind demon’s will roared over him, and their struggle fell to a more basic level, the simple will to survive. But here the Warded Man held the advantage, for he had no fear of death, and did not look over his shoulder as it approached them both.
The demon did, and in that instant its will broke, and the Warded Man absorbed its magic into his own essence, leaving a burnt remain he threw from the path to the Core to scatter away forever.
Alone on the path, the Warded Man could finally hear the true call of the Core, and it was beautiful. There was power there. Power not evil in itself. Like fire, it was beyond good or evil. It was simply power, and it beckoned him like a teat to a hungry infant. He reached for it, ready to taste.
But then another call reached him.
“Arlen!” The voice was a distant echo that reverberated down the path.
“Arlen Bales, you come back to me!”
Arlen Bales. A name he hadn’t used in years. Arlen Bales had died out on the Krasian Desert. The voice was calling a ghost. He turned back to the Core, ready to embrace it.
“Don’t you leave me again, Arlen Bales!”
Renna. He’d left her in dire straights twice now, but the third would be the deepest cut, damning her to the very life he sought to escape after she had worked so hard to save his.
What could the embrace of the Core offer that hers could not?
Renna’s throat was hoarse from screaming when the mist seeped back up from the ground and began to take Arlen’s form. She laughed through her tears and nearly choked. It seemed only a moment ago that he was as good as cored and she expecting no better, but now suddenly every demon in the area was dead, the night hauntingly quiet as she and Arlen stared at each other. The mind demon’s magic feedback had been intense, and Renna’s senses felt more alive than they ever had in her life. She practically crackled with energy, and her heart was pounding like a Jongleur’s hand drums. Arlen glowed so intensely he hurt to look at.
“Dancer,” Arlen breathed suddenly, breaking the silence. He ran to his horse.
“Broke a lot of bones,” Renna said sadly. “Ent never gonna run again, even if he makes it through. Da would say to put him down.”
“To the Core with anything your da would have done!” Arlen growled. Renna felt his pain like a slap in the face, and knew in that moment how much he loved the horse. She knew what it was like, when an animal was your only friend in the world. She wished he could love her half so much.
“Wounds’ve stopped bleeding,” she noted. “Must’ve taken some magic off that changing demon before he was struck.”
“Mimic,” Arlen said. “They’re called mimics.”
“How d’you know?” Renna asked.
“Learned a lot, when I touched the coreling prince’s mind,” Arlen said. He reached out, gripping one of the stallion’s broken legs and pulling the bones straight. Holding them in place with one powerful hand, he drew a ward in the air with the other.
He grunted in pain, but the ward flared and the bones knit before her eyes. One by one, Arlen tended the horse’s wounds, but as Twilight Dancer began to breathe comfortably, Arlen’s own breath began to labor. His magic, so bright a moment ago, was dimming rapidly. Already it was darker than she had ever seen it.
She touched his shoulder, and felt a flash of pain as some of her own magic flowed into him. He gasped and looked up at her.
“Enough,” she whispered, and he nodded.
The Warded Man looked at Renna and felt a profound sense of guilt.
“I’m sorry, Ren,” he said.
Renna looked at him curiously. “Sorry for what?”
“Turned my back on you once when we were young, leaving you to Harl so I could chase demons,” he said. “And then tonight, I did it again.”
But Renna shook her head. “Felt that demon in my head. Felt it slither into me worse’n Da ever could. It was pure evil, straight from the Core. Killing that monster was worth more ’n a thousand Renna Tanners.”
The Warded Man reached out and touched her cheek, his eyes unreadable.
“Thought so before,” he said, “but now I ent so sure.”
“I ent takin’ back my promise,” Renna said. “If this is your life, then I aim to support it like a proper wife should. No matter what.”
Dawn was approaching, and the Core called to the Warded Man still, but it was a distant thing now, easily ignored. Because of her. Because with Renna he finally remembered who he was. The words came easily to him.
“I, Arlen Bales, promise myself to you, Renna Tanner.”