rested against the stones, already feeling the heat from the fire behind and looked northward. ‘We wait, and hope the night holds no more surprises for us.’
• CHAPTER THREE •
Attack
M IRANDA POINTED TOWARDS THE SMOKE IN THE SKY.
‘Fires,’ said the being once known as Child.
Belog, who now called himself Nakor, nodded. ‘Big ones.’
They were riding in a wagon towards the north gate of Ylith, having discovered in LaMut the single most frustrating fact of their new identities: they might have had Miranda and Nakor’s memories imposed over their own, but they didn’t possess their abilities.
Two days of trying to reassert their human abilities, one aggravating attempt after another, had left them both exasperated and at a loss. It was as if they knew the language, yet when they spoke only gibberish emerged. They still possessed their demonic abilities, despite their human appearances, but no hint of the prodigious power that Miranda once possessed now remained. Even in her human guise she was physically more powerful than the strongest human warrior many times over, as well as being faster than the swiftest elf. Her magic was what it had been in the demon realm: an ability to inflict destruction at an astonishing rate. But even the most meagre of Miranda’s human magic remained beyond her reach.
Her first thought had been to find Miranda’s husband, Pug, for while she knew she was not really his late wife, she still possessed all of Miranda’s memories and emotions. For the very first time, a demon appreciated the concept of love as mortals understood it, and felt the pain of separation from her husband and sons; or rather Miranda’s husband and sons.
The demon in Miranda’s form knew the memories had been grafted on to its own, and how: another ploy by the Trickster God, Kalkin. Yet they were so vivid, both the good and the bad, that it was impossible to remain objective about the life imprinted over her own. Child possessed mere days of memory, while Miranda’s stretched well beyond a century. Her false human identity overwhelmed her true demon consciousness. The same held true for Nakor, as the demon known as Belog now thought of himself, although his demon memories were years longer than Child’s. But while Nakor had possessed abilities, Belog had only possessed knowledge, so his inability to access Nakor’s ‘tricks’ was not a particular source of frustration to the demon-turned-human.
He found it amusing that Nakor was by nature far more patient and content to accept things as they were than Miranda; if a woman over a century old could be called ‘youthfully impetuous’ it was Miranda.
One thing became truer by the day: their human consciousnesses were slowly displacing the demonic, and both had begun to feel as if they had somehow simply died human and reawakened in these new bodies. If anything had eased Nakor’s annoyance at his changed status, it had been the wry amusement he felt watching Miranda’s complete frustration over hers.
Lacking the ability to transport themselves to Sorcerer’s Isle magically, they had been forced to seek another means of conveyance. So a ride on a supply wagon had been purchased, allowing the former demons to discuss their situation as they slowly wended their way southward. To the others travelling in this tiny caravan they looked like nothing out of the ordinary, no more unusual than any pairing of an attractive middle-aged woman with an odd-looking old man, Keshian by his garb and complexion. With the war underway, there were many people on the road, some moving northward, away from the pending Keshian assault, others south, towards potential riches.
Nakor and Miranda had both lived a very long time, and had known many wars, and so neither was surprised by the flow of people towards the coming bloody conflict. There was always a direct relationship between risk and reward in wartime.
Over the years both of them had witnessed wars fought by
• CHAPTER THREE •
Attack
M IRANDA POINTED TOWARDS THE SMOKE IN THE SKY.
‘Fires,’ said the being once known as Child.
Belog, who now called himself Nakor, nodded. ‘Big ones.’
They were riding in a wagon towards the north gate of Ylith, having discovered in LaMut the single most frustrating fact of their new identities: they might have had Miranda and Nakor’s memories imposed over their own, but they didn’t possess their abilities.
Two days of trying to reassert their human abilities, one aggravating attempt after another, had left them both exasperated and at a loss. It was as if they knew the language, yet when they spoke only gibberish emerged. They still possessed their demonic abilities, despite their human appearances, but no hint of the prodigious power that Miranda once possessed now remained. Even in her human guise she was physically more powerful than the strongest human warrior many times over, as well as being faster than the swiftest elf. Her magic was what it had been in the demon realm: an ability to inflict destruction at an astonishing rate. But even the most meagre of Miranda’s human magic remained beyond her reach.
Her first thought had been to find Miranda’s husband, Pug, for while she knew she was not really his late wife, she still possessed all of Miranda’s memories and emotions. For the very first time, a demon appreciated the concept of love as mortals understood it, and felt the pain of separation from her husband and sons; or rather Miranda’s husband and sons.
The demon in Miranda’s form knew the memories had been grafted on to its own, and how: another ploy by the Trickster God, Kalkin. Yet they were so vivid, both the good and the bad, that it was impossible to remain objective about the life imprinted over her own. Child possessed mere days of memory, while Miranda’s stretched well beyond a century. Her false human identity overwhelmed her true demon consciousness. The same held true for Nakor, as the demon known as Belog now thought of himself, although his demon memories were years longer than Child’s. But while Nakor had possessed abilities, Belog had only possessed knowledge, so his inability to access Nakor’s ‘tricks’ was not a particular source of frustration to the demon-turned-human.
He found it amusing that Nakor was by nature far more patient and content to accept things as they were than Miranda; if a woman over a century old could be called ‘youthfully impetuous’ it was Miranda.
One thing became truer by the day: their human consciousnesses were slowly displacing the demonic, and both had begun to feel as if they had somehow simply died human and reawakened in these new bodies. If anything had eased Nakor’s annoyance at his changed status, it had been the wry amusement he felt watching Miranda’s complete frustration over hers.
Lacking the ability to transport themselves to Sorcerer’s Isle magically, they had been forced to seek another means of conveyance. So a ride on a supply wagon had been purchased, allowing the former demons to discuss their situation as they slowly wended their way southward. To the others travelling in this tiny caravan they looked like nothing out of the ordinary, no more unusual than any pairing of an attractive middle-aged woman with an odd-looking old man, Keshian by his garb and complexion. With the war underway, there were many people on the road, some moving northward, away from the pending Keshian assault, others south, towards potential riches.
Nakor and Miranda had both lived a very long time, and had known many wars, and so neither was surprised by the flow of people towards the coming bloody conflict. There was always a direct relationship between risk and reward in wartime.
Over the years both of them had witnessed wars fought by
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