"Every bit of sorcery takes that chance. Soulless Gustav is a great sorcerer. He has created a phantom realm most could never comprehend. But his world is a bloated, hungry parasite, and I imagine a tremendous amount of his magic is spent whispering lullabies in the dragon's ear. It would only take one mistake, one phantom too many at the wrong moment, to wake reality and bring all his plans to a crushing end. His power is at its most dangerous here, but it is also at its most vulnerable."
"It can't be both," Newt said.
"Magic thrives on contradiction."
"Like accursed beauty, for example."
His observation didn't bother me as much as I would've expected. I didn't want to be beautiful, but I found I didn't mind as I once had.
Newt balked. "I don't believe it. He didn't act like a man with a lot to fear."
"That's because he doesn't have a lot to fear. We are only a small threat."
Wyst of the West exhaled sharply
"That's comforting to know," said Newt.
"The truth is rarely comforting. If it were, lies would not be as well received as they usually are."
"So why didn't you just do us a favor and lie?"
"Witches often don't tell the whole truth, but we don't lie."
"Maybe you should think about making an exception."
"Very well. Soulless Gustav is an overrated sorcerer. His power pales beside my own. Even now, he is surely trembling in his iron tower, assuming he has one, and contemplating throwing himself on a sword." I stroked Newt's neck with my thumb. "Feel better?"
"Not really."
"Actually, I do," replied Gwurm. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
The landscape in Soulless Gustav's kingdom slowly began to change. I imagined sorcerers, like witches, were never in complete control of their magic, and everything around us was merely Soulless Gustav's will given substance. Steadily, the world grew more menacing. The grass yellowed. Twisted, sinister grimaces appeared in trees. Heaving, gray clouds darkened the sky. A chill wind swept across the plains. I was gratefol for the dark and the cold, but there was no mistaking Soulless Gustav's hostility reflected in his creation. I thought some time on whether this hostility was founded in genuine fear or mere offense that we'd dared to disturb his empty empire. I didn't decide which.
The road came to a sudden end. It grew dark as dusk. We traveled onward, and the fields thickened. When the grass reached Gwurm's shoulder, I sensed the approach of our third trial. It wasn't found in an omen, but in good judgment. Soulless Gustav wouldn't tolerate our presence for long. We were an affront to his power just by being here.
"I don't like this," said Wyst. "Perhaps we should turn back and find an easier route."
"There is no easier route," I explained. "There is only one way to Soulless Gustav, and that is the way he has given us."
The sharp blades scraped my legs. It was fortunate that trolls possessed thick skin as Gwurm didn't seem to notice. Wyst's horse trotted on with only an annoyed snort. The field reached my shoulder atop Gwurm's back and was soon over my head. If Soulless Gustav was intending to separate us then we would be separated. But as we emerged from the grass, I knew this wasn't his plan. The fields ended without warning into a circle of bare earth.
On the opposite end, figures broke through the grass. I recognized them immediately for they were us. They were akin to the shadows that had tried to steal my reality, but Soulless Gustav wasn't resorting to the same trick as before. Magic dislikes repetition as I was certain any self-respecting sorcerer did.
We stopped, and our doubles halted. They were exactly like us in formation and stance, every nuance of movement. But they were gray, lifeless duplicates, possessed of lusterless color and a certain lack of detail. I noticed it in Wyst's pleasing face and its absence in his copy. The features were still there: the chewy lips, the nibblesome ears, the bitable nose. But they were somehow not the same. It had much to do with his expressions or the lack of them. All the doubles wore blank faces. Even Penelope's copy carried its bristles in a limp, languid manner.
Wyst drew his sword. His duplicate did the same. I climbed from Gwurm's shoulders as my double descended from his double.
"What manner of sorcery is this?" asked Wyst.
I closed my eyes and listened to the magic. It whispered ever so softly, despite Soulless Gustav's desire to suppress it. We were to be given a fighting chance.
"Effigies. They've been sent to be killed by us."
"Now isn't the time for riddles," said Newt.
"No riddles. They're reflections of sorcery, but we are also reflections of them. If they die, we die."
"You're saying we can't kill them?"
"We certainly can, but we'll be taking our own lives."
"This is a cowardly assault." Wyst jumped from his horse. His double reproduced the move exactly, yet somehow lacking the grace. "Come out and face us, sorcerer! Unless you are afraid!"
Despite Wyst's heartfelt valor. Soulless Gustav didn't materialize to meet the challenge.
We stood there for some time. We watched our effigies. They, in turn, watched us.
"Maybe we can get around them," suggested Gwurm, but this idea was quickly put aside. The effigies matched us move for move, as perfect as a mirror. They couldn't be outmaneuvered. As long as we didn't advance, neither did they, and it gave us time to think on the problem.
"What if we just maim them?" asked Newt. "Would we be maimed in return?"
"They will not be maimed. Injuries which we could survive will kill them. They're made to die."
"I've got it," said Gwurm. "If we don't attack them, they won't attack us. Right?"
I shook my head. "They have been sent to be killed."
"How are we supposed to defeat foes made to be defeated?" asked Newt.
"We let them defeat us?" theorized Gwurm.
Again, I shook my head. "They will kill us if they can."
"Can't you do something with your magic?" Newt said. "Like make them just disappear."
"Such sorcery is beyond simple unmaking."
A perceptible tension rose in my companions except for Gwurm, who accepted the situation with his usual pragmatism. The troll could've been a splendid witch. Wyst dealt with his stress as he always did: silent, steely resolve. Newt, however, wasn't about to allow his annoyance to go unspoken.
"Well, this is just unfair."
The observation seemed absurd coming from a demon, yet it was perfectly understandable. To demons, anything they dislike is unfair. He'd made similar remarks about such diverse injustices as not being able to fly and not being allowed to slay any mortal that struck him wrong. Which was every mortal. Like all these perceived inequities, he was mistaken. I wanted to kill Soulless Gustav. He wanted to kill me. There were no rules beyond that, and even if I found myself confronted with an apparently unbeatable trial, I couldn't fault him for that.
Out of frustration and boredom, Newt and Gwurm experimented with our effigies. My familiar did a silly dance just to watch his duplicate do the same. The troll exchanged his feet and hands and walked around upside-down. They taunted the effigies with crossed eyes and stuck out tongues. The faces were the only element not copied, remaining blank. Wyst did nothing. He just stood there, weapon in hand, jaw clenched, and full of heroic determination and a pinch of moping.
Newt snarled. "I don't really walk like that, do I?"
"Not quite," Gwurm replied. "There's an impalpable oddity that the effigy can't quite duplicate."
The duck sat. "So if they kill us, we die, but if we kill them, we die. I'm out of ideas."
"Not every problem can be solved through violence."