Peter Brett: The Desert Spear

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 Painted 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 Painted Man could not tell if the resulting crack was the tree's trunk or his horse's spine.

"Dancer!" the Painted Man screamed, tearing the robe from his body and launching himself at the demon. Renna ran to see to the horse.

The Painted 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 Painted 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 Painted 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 Painted Man asked. The mimic gave no answer, lashing out with the new limbs.

The Painted 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 Painted 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 Painted 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 Painted 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 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.