The Desert Spear

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 Painted 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 Painted 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 Painted 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 Painted Man knew something was different about this demon. It circled him patiently, waiting for opportunity. A few times, the Painted 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 Painted 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 Painted 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 Painted 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,