Numal's heartfelt words seemed to have little effect on the demon, or on General Q.
"Everybody gets scared, mage." The soldier's swollen mouth made it sound as if he had both cheeks full of marbles. "Show me a man without fear and I'll show you a dead man. You have no choice about whether you have fear or not. You do have a choice when it comes to submitting to that fear or not.
"I was fifteen years old when I fought my first battle, at the behest of my hated lord and master. I was a shepherd, and I'd just spent six months' slavery in a mine for attacking an overseer with my crook, after he beat me with a cudgel for complaining about the inadequate rations.
"I'd had eight weeks' training in swordplay, and I was so scared that I nearly fouled my breeches, but I fought. Since then, I've seen countless young recruits who thought they were too frightened to fight.
"I remember one young lad of about seventeen years of age, who fought beside me when we took on a band of brigands who tried to take over our base. We were outnumbered two to one, and I overheard him telling one of his friends he was worried he'd be too scared to fight. I stood beside him as we lined up for the start of the battle, and I saw him struggling with his emotions."
"I suppose you're going to tell me that he went on to a glorious career as a warlord, General," Numal said.
"No: he died in my arms." The General's expression was like stone. "But he told me before he died that he wasn't afraid any more. He was proud that he'd been a part of our victory, and he wasn't scared of death any more."
Numal snorted. "Very inspirational, General. But that boy didn't have to face the enemy alone. That's what I'd have to do, and I'm not going to. That's the end of it."
Quelgrum levered himself to his feet and glowered at the mage. "Perhaps you're right, Numal. Perhaps you are just a bloody coward. I'll do it myself."
Part of the Necromancer's psyche felt relieved that someone else would face the danger instead of him, but he knew the old soldier was in no condition to fight.
"You can't, General;" he pleaded. "It's all you can do to stand up!"
"If you don't go, I will. Don't try to stop me."
The soldier surged forward. Numal moved to block Quelgrum, but the soldier shot out his bruised left fist to strike the mage on the jaw, just hard enough to make the Necromancer stumble and fall.
The pain of the blow was subsumed by the realisation that the soldier had not held back in the least; the soldier had hit him with all the force available to him. The man was all but finished, yet still prepared to take on an overwhelming force.
"No, wait, Quelgrum!" he shouted, as the General stumbled out of the bushes. "There must be something else we… can do!"
Quelgrum paused, and turned back to face the mage.
"It seems to me your magic isn't any great shakes, mage, and your willpower certainly isn't any better. Forget it, coward. You can spend the rest of your life starting at shadows, for all I care."
"Perhaps there is something I can do," Numal said, feeling a little sick at the knowledge that the old soldier would surely die if he attempted to save Grimm. "It's not something I want to do, and I'm not even sure if I can. But I will try."
Quelgrum stepped back into the bushes.
"What's the big plan, then, mage?"
Despite the General's swollen, disfigured face, Numal saw the ghost of a contemptuous sneer on the soldier's face.
"Necromancy involves the manipulation of souls," he said, the words tumbling, unbidden, from his mouth. "I might, perhaps, be able to perform a spell of Juxtaposition. I've never attempted one before, but I know the runes."
"Let's just pretend for a moment that I'm just a simple soldier, and not a bloody Guild Mage," the soldier said in a sardonic tone. "What the hell is a spell of Juxtaposition?"
"I can maybe exchange my soul with Questor Guy's," Numal said, flicking a nervous glance at the now-silent, twitching form of the fallen mage. "He would inhabit my body, free to perform his Questor magic. He can do more than I ever could."
"He's all but finished, Necromancer. He's as weak as a new-born kitten!"
"That's just his body, General. He'd have mine to play with, and all its strength."
The General frowned and looked down at the twitching, groaning Questor. "Guy's in terrible pain. Do you think you can face that?"
"I'll have to."
"Not bad for a craven coward, Numal." Quelgrum clapped the mage on the shoulder and forced his swollen mouth into a smile.
The Necromancer knew he must move quickly, before the dread demons of fear overwhelmed him. Kneeling down beside the quivering form of the Questor, he put down his staff and applied both palms to Guy's forehead. "Hold him still, please, General."
As Numal patterned his mind for the spell, he felt a welcome sense of calm washing over him. There was no room in a mage's mind for both fear and precision.
While his mouth spat out complex, flawless syllables, he groped in the ether for Guy's soul. As he found it, he gasped at the shock of unimaginable, electric anguish, but the runes continued to issue from his throat; exact, perfect. A last pang of joy at the realisation that the spell was complete was swamped by agony.
He was in pain; he was pain…
****
Guy felt himself swirling through the all-consuming agony, drifting away from his body.
This must be it. I never thought it would end like this.
With a sudden shock, the Questor realised that the torment was gone, and he looked down at his own body, lying, twitching on the ground. Is this it? he wondered. Am I dead?
"Quickly now, mage," a familiar, mortal voice said. "Grimm must be saved, and Numal, too!" It was Quelgrum.
The Questor rose to his feet-or someone's feet-and felt an unaccustomed ache in his knees as he did so. His arms felt too short, and his entire body felt… wrong, somehow.
"What's going on?" Guy said in a harsh voice, struggling with an unfamiliar throat and tongue. "Where the hell am I? What's the matter with my damned body? I feel like an old man."
"You are; you're in Numal's body, Questor Guy," Quelgrum said. "He's just done a very brave thing.
"Explanations must wait; you have to defeat Keller, so Questor Grimm and Numal can be saved."
Guy felt shocked, realising he now inhabited a body over thirty years older than his own, but, for the moment, he was just glad to be free of the pain.
"Don't worry, Quelgrum; I'm more than happy enough to take on Keller for my own reasons. That bastard put that damned collar on me, and he's going to suffer for that. He's a dead man! I swear I'll-"
"Move it!" Quelgrum snapped in a parade-ground voice, cutting off the mage. "The sooner you do this, the sooner you get back to your own body."
Guy called for his staff, revelling in the sting as the magical weapon smacked into his outstretched hand.
"Very well, old man. I'm not any keener at being in Grandpa's body than he is at being in mine. Demon, you come with me; you might just come in useful."
He held out his left hand in an imperious manner. Thribble rolled his eyes, but said nothing as he hopped onto the extended appendage.
Slipping the demon into his pocket, the mage felt the joints of his body grind as he moved out of the bushes and around the rotunda. The sooner he ditched this worn-out shell and returned to his own, youthful body, the better!
As he reached the Pit entrance, he saw two heavily-muscled men standing in the entrance.
"Hold, old man!" one cried, a cauliflower-eared veteran of some forty years. "Yield or die!"
"Over your dead body, cretin," Guy-Numal said, launching a vengeance-fuelled ball of ice-cold energy against the two men. In an instant, the warriors' faces turned paler even than Tordun's, and the mage stepped forward. With one sweep of his staff, the frozen pair shattered into tiny pieces.