As figments closed in, the Rogue Knight swung Verity in broad sweeps. In whatever direction he waved his sword, the figments disintegrated.
Cole found himself running over fallen changelings. He tried not to harm them. They might be foul and deranged, but they were also innocent people under Morgassa’s control. The knights were of a similar mind, focusing on knocking people aside instead of inflicting fatal wounds. Cole noticed them using the flat sides of their swords and axes to bash rather than slash.
The knights didn’t slow as they made it past the outliers and reached the solid ranks of changelings. They mowed through the crowd, sending bodies flying and trampling them into the dirt. Cole could not avoid the fallen changelings carpeting the ground. He focused on keeping his speed up as bodies groaned beneath his paws.
The Rogue Knight kept swinging Verity vigorously, and figments continued to evaporate. After some time, the figments seemed to realize they had no chance against a sword that could erase seemings, and they held back.
But the changelings kept coming.
Cole felt bad for the people underfoot. They didn’t mean to attack. They had lost control of themselves. But Cole also knew that given a chance, the changelings would tear him apart. No matter how many fell, the rest pressed toward them, undaunted. Wild eyes rolled back, and saliva drooled from twisted lips. At least they didn’t seem to feel any pain.
Cole raged onward, reminding himself that if he and the others failed to stop Morgassa, the changelings would be stuck as her servants forever, and the rest of Elloweer would soon join them. If some changelings got hurt along the way, that was part of the price.
After passing the little village, the Rogue Knight galloped up the shoulder of the hill. The horde had mostly gone around the hill rather than over it, so Cole suddenly was running over a grassy slope instead of injured bodies.
“Morgassa senses us,” Callista called. “She’s coming our way.”
Avoiding the summit of the hill, the Rogue Knight led them up and over the side of it. As they came around to the far side, Morgassa glided into view.
She wore conservative clothes that Cole recognized from his world—a white blouse, a long gray skirt, dark stockings, and flat black shoes. Her hair was up in a messy bun. She looked like a schoolteacher on a parent conference day. He’d had teachers who dressed like her. Except that Morgassa was at least eight feet tall. And she hovered a few inches above the ground.
As they ran down the far slope of the hill toward Morgassa, she drifted in their direction. Raising a hand, she called out to them. Eerily, all the changelings and figments in all directions cried the same words in unison.
“Strangers!” Morgassa and her horde called, countless voices shouting as one. “Halt and explain why you destroy my children!”
“These are not your children,” the Rogue Knight accused, hastening his charge. “You have hijacked innocents.”
“Stop and speak or face my full wrath!” Morgassa and her horde demanded.
“Honor?” the Rogue Knight asked, still galloping.
“What is there to say?” Honor asked from the back of her horse.
“You are misbehaving!” Morgassa shrieked, the horde screaming her words. “Explain yourselves or perish!”
“It might benefit us to better understand her,” Callista suggested.
The Rogue Knight raised an arm and slowed to a canter, then a trot, then a walk. He came to a stop twenty yards up the slope from Morgassa. Cole didn’t like slowing down. He could sense her foul power and wanted to hit her at full speed. Coming to a standstill made him antsy. He shifted, so he could see her between two of the horsemen. Despite her impressive height, she appeared relatively defenseless. Her face was stern and still. Cole could easily picture her in a classroom back home.
“What have you to say?” Honor called.
“Does the master make explanations to the servant?” Morgassa and her horde chanted. “We are the agents of order. Why must you bring chaos among us?”
“You are taking control of people,” Honor called. “Free them!”
“The mother and her children are one!” Morgassa and her horde shrieked. “Why must you defy us? Surrender to the peace of my will.”
“Her puppets move to surround us,” the Rogue Knight warned.
“If you want to talk, stop moving your minions,” Honor called. “Free them or face the consequences.”
Fingers hooking like talons, Morgassa grimaced. Then she and her horde shouted, “You do not give ultimatums to me!”
“Enough!” Honor shouted back, her voice small compared to the fanatical choir. “Prepare to defend yourself.”
“I like you,” the Rogue Knight muttered over his shoulder to Honor as he spurred his horse forward. His knights followed his lead, and Cole charged behind them, flanked by the other animals.
“Unacceptable!” Morgassa and her minions shrieked. Extending both hands, Morgassa sent at least a hundred newly formed blank figments flowing their way.
The Rogue Knight swung Verity and erased them. Morgassa made more, and he unmade them again.
The Rogue Knight closed on Morgassa, riding straight at her. He raised Verity and leaned sideways to issue a killing stroke.
In a blink, Morgassa disappeared inside a full suit of white armor, embellished with gold accents on the breastplate, greaves, arm guards, and helm. She held a sword nearly as tall as a man, and a shield the size of a tabletop. Standing on the ground, she now stood taller than the Rogue Knight on his horse.
Verity clanged against the shield, then Morgassa leaned into the charge, shoving the Rogue Knight’s horse over with her shield. The horse flopped and rolled, tearing up huge chunks of earth. The Rogue Knight went flying, landing in an awkward somersault.
Swerving expertly, the other knights converged on Morgassa. She blocked a chain mace with her sword, twisted to avoid a lance, and cleaved a knight from shoulder to hip with a vicious slash that unhorsed him and left him writhing.
Not all the knights had room to bring their horses to bear on her. Some leaped to the ground. Others wheeled around for another pass.
A couple of lengths behind the other knights, Minimus charged right at Morgassa. He sprang from the back of his horse and met her sword with his when she swung. The impact changed his trajectory, and he sailed past her, tumbling down the hillside.
Suddenly, Cole found nothing between himself and Morgassa. He raced toward her, claws tearing at the grassy earth. Morgassa faced him, sword raised, shield ready, towering in her splendid armor. He knew the sword was dangerous. He knew her armor would be difficult to penetrate. But he could also sense her fear.