The Desert Spear

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.
    “I’m sorry, Ren,” the Painted Man said. “Din’t mean for this. Warned you.”
    Both Rennas nodded. “I know. Ent your fault.”
    The Painted 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 Painted 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 Painted Man could feel the thrum of power it sent out, though it did him no harm.
    Behind him, the mimic shrieked, but the Painted 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 Painted 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 Painted 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