The Desert Spear

cut deeply had they connected. She envied Arlen his ability to fight shirtless.
    She righted herself unharmed, but her momentum was lost, and all three wood demons had regained their feet to threaten her again. They carried scorched wounds where she had struck, but even as the magic she ’d leeched from the corelings healed her own wounds, so too were they recovering quickly. In moments they would be fully healed.
    She reached into the pouch at her waist as they charged, hurling a handful of warded chestnuts their way. The demons shrieked and threw up their arms defensively as the heat wards flared, the chestnuts bursting into intense flames with tiny pops.
    The two outermost corelings escaped unharmed, but the one in the center took the brunt of the salvo and its shoulder caught fire. In a moment the whole creature was aflame, shrieking and flailing about madly.
    Seeing their fellow ablaze, the demons to either side backpedaled away from it, separating farther and giving Renna the opening she needed. She charged back in at one, stabbing up into the vulnerable gap between the third and fourth ribs on its right side. Her long knife pierced the coreling’s black heart.
    She ducked under its death throes and grabbed its shoulder with her left hand as it lunged. The ward on her palm flared hot, burning the demon’s knobby armored skin, and she felt flush with strength and power as a portion of its magic arced into her. She pivoted and drove her knife in deeper, using it to lift the two-hundred-pound demon clear over her head. She shrieked, sounding like a demon herself, and threw it into its blazing companion.
    Harl’s knife, still deep in the demon, should have come free then, but the crosspiece caught on its lower rib. She cried out as the blade was torn from her grasp.
    Seeing her unarmed, the last demon roared and charged her, tackling her into the scrub and dirt.
    Wards flared all over her body, but the demon, mad with rage and pain, bit and clawed wildly until its searching talons found purchase. Its claws dug deep, Renna screamed, and hot blood soaked the ground.
    There was a rustle in the trees, and Renna knew more wood demons, drawn to the light and activity, would soon be upon her. Not that it mattered, if she did not end the fight with the demon atop her quickly.
    The demon roared again, and she roared right back, shoving hard against it and reversing the pin. It was a basic
sharusahk
move, one any novice could have prevented, but corelings had only instinctive knowledge of leverage. She pumped her knees continually, hitting the demon’s thighs to keep it from shifting its legs up to claw at her. She had owned enough cats to know the fight would be over quickly if it gained that advantage.
    She managed to free a hand, grabbing at her beads, and whipped them around the coreling’s corded neck, tucking in close to minimize the demon’s reach and leverage as she crossed the ends and pulled in opposite directions. Its claws continued to tear at her, but she embraced the pain and held on until the wards flared and the great horned head severed with a pop, spraying her with black, smoking ichor.

    The Painted Man had unconsciously eased the draw of his bow when Renna threw her chestnuts. He knew the heat ward; it was common enough in Tibbet’s Brook, and his parents had used it often in winter, painting large stones around the house and barn to absorb and hold the heat. He had tried making weapons with it in the past, but while it was good for arrowheads, it always either consumed hand weapons or burned through the wrappings of the hilt to scorch his hands. Even the tiny heat wards on his skin burned horribly when activated.
    It had never occurred to him to ward chestnuts with them. Barely a few weeks into the night, and Renna was already warding creatively in ways he had never thought of.
    He watched the wild look in her eyes as she lifted the demon over her head, and wondered if he had looked the same the first few times he ’d felt the rush of coreling magic. He imagined he had. It was a heady feeling, and gave delusions of invincibility.
    But Renna wasn’t invincible, and that was made clear an instant later as she was disarmed and the wood demon tackled her. The Painted Man cried out, fear making him go cold as he fumbled for his bow. He tried to take aim as they struggled on the ground, but he was unable to get a clear shot, and wouldn’t risk hitting Renna. Dropping the bow, he burst from hiding to