"It was, indeed," she 'said grimly. "Though I mind having bidden you to the gate tower. Nay, then. Abide here amongst us this night. We will be glad of your aid. Yet stay apart from my daughters, insofar as you are able."
Matt nodded in relief at his dismissal and turned to where Sir Guy and Alisande were trying to repulse men who had sneaked up with scaling ladders while the roaches distracted those within. For a time, it was hot work, but no more magical manifestations appeared.
He stepped back at last, wiping sweat from his brow and catching his breath. Beyond the walls, a thick fog had appeared, but now was clearing.
A shout went up. Matt turned to see the malvoisin again emerging from the thinning fog. A hundred pale, fish-belly-colored bodies slogged ahead, pulling it along, plodding like machines and looking at nothing.
Thirty crossbows hummed with a single voice. Leather-vaned bolts sprouted in the pallid chests, but the marchers kept coming.
"Zombies!" Matt shouted. "The walking dead! Max!"
"Aye, Wizard?" The spark hummed beside him.
"Fire," Matt directed. "Burn them. They're long overdue for a funeral pyre!"
"I go," the spark sang, and winked out. A moment later, a sheet of flame erupted around the zombies. The stink of charred flesh drifted to the battlements. Each zombie was a living candle, but they kept moving until they fell as burned skeletons and the bones broke apart. The malvoisin caught fire and began burning fiercely. The abbess began a prayer for the dead, and voices joined in, until the whole parapet was filled with Latin.
Matt blew out a long, shaky breath. "Reverend Mother, how many hours till dawn?"
"Two," the abbess called back.
Matt nodded. "And probably the worst still to come." He looked up at Sir Guy. "What will they try next?"
The knight shrugged. "They may attempt anything, Lord Matthew. If 'tis foul or fell, they'll essay it."
Fifteen minutes went by without any sign of action. Matt brooded. His foreboding must have been contagious, because the warrior maids began to stir and mutter restlessly.
Then it appeared, fifty yards out and glowing - a naked incubus in a somewhat locally exaggerated form of Father Brunel.
Total silence fell as the nuns stared, shocked. Then they erupted into clamor.
"Sorcerer, appear!" the biggest bandit-maid shouted. "You who summoned this vile form, show yourself that I may sally out to skewer you through your entrails!"
There were no takers. The sorcerer might have been vile, but he wasn't that stupid - though he'd been a fool to think the sight of such a naked male would weaken this garrison. All he'd done was to get the women fighting mad.
Wait a minute ... Anger...
"Hold your tongues!" The abbess's voice cut through the uproar, and the clamor lessened. "Check your anger! Hold it in abeyance, or Evil will gain some measure of power o'er you and weaken the strength of your bolts!"
"But Reverend Mother," the big nun cried, "how can we suffer-"
"You need not. Fire at the enemy-but loose your bolts in self-defense, not wrath. And let each bolt sink home!"
The abbess had countered the sorcerer's plan neatly; as long as the nuns felt themselves to be defending themselves, all their curdled, pent-up feelings were cleared for use.
Here and there, one still raged, mouthing insults and loosing bolts as fast as she could. The abbess came up behind one of them and coldly put her hand on the nun's shoulder. The nun whirled, staring up at her, then fell silent.
"Get you to the chapel," the abbess said, sternly but kindly. "Pray there for us."
The nun laid down her bow and turned toward the stairway, hands clasped, head bent, while the abbess moved to the next berserker.
Altogether, a dozen or so retreated to the chapel-the biggest loss they had suffered that night.
"See the price of anger, child," the abbess said to Sayeesa. "Let not--" She broke off, staring at the ex-witch.
Sayeesa stood frozen, her hands clenched tightly until the knuckles showed white, and her lips trembled.
"It has the semblance of one she knows," Matt explained.
"Aye, I know him!" Sayeesa fell to her knees, burying her face in her hands. "To my shame! Brunel, can I never be free of you?"
The abbess's face was a dam against anguish. "This, then, was the weakness I sensed. Nay, child, be not shamed. Each of us has failings. Get you to the chapel, there to pray with all your heart and soul!"
As Sayeesa turned away, the abbess's head swung about. "We are not yet cleared! Someone here hides a weakness fully as grave! Daughters, search your souls! Whosoever harbors faults that sight of men can raise, get hence, ere you weaken us in time of crisis! Go now to the chapel!"
But each nun stood fast, glancing at her neighbor out of the corners of her eyes. None moved to the stairway.
Then the incubus was gone-but another walked in its place, its movements fluid, sensuous. Something glimmered near it and grew into a pulsing shape that coalesced to a succubus, dancing with the incubus, moving its body in a rhythm that left little to the imagination. As the figures turned, Matt stiffened in horror. The incubus wore his face! And the succubus's hair was long and blond!
"How dare they!" Alisande shrieked. "What arrogance is this?" Her words whipped the nuns into action. Bolts leaped from the battlements, each nun firing with anger chilled to a sense of mission.
Alisande raved on. "This comes near blasphemy, to see my form in such a show! This pairing's past obscene. It is--"
"Enough!" The abbess touched her shoulder, and Alisande stilled, her eyes widening. The abbess spoke with full censure. "You knew this weakness lay within you, yet you remained here with us, imperiling all. Such overweening pride's unworthy of a peasant; how much more demeaning is it in a princess! What would you, Lady - that your people all succumb to Evil, through the braggart's pride you show in your sureness of your soul's power?"
Abruptly, the abbess swung to Matt, who was staring in disbelief. "Do you stare like the mouse that sees the snake? Then must I think her Highness is not alone in this. I should have chained you in the tower, Wizard." She turned back to Alisande. "Nay, methinks there's no sin, but there's occasion of it. You harbor desires that could lead to sinful action, but will not acknowledge them, even to yourselves. You and your wizard must pledge your love or end it; for until you do, 'twill weaken you and all about you. To the chapel, Lady, and pray for guidance, that God send you understanding of this hot surge within your blood, and the course of action you must take."
Alisande stood immobile for a moment more, then slowly turned away, head bowed, toward the stairway. Matt stared after her, a typhoon of emotions boiling within him.
"I would dispatch you also to the chapel," the abbess told him, "save that you would cause more trouble there than here."
"Yeah, either way I'm not exactly an asset." Decision crystallized in Matt. "Thanks for your hospitality, Reverend Mother, but I think I'd better be moving."
"You speak nonsense!" the abbess snapped. "Magic rules this battle, Wizard. We cannot do without you!"
"I think you can. Max!"
"Here, Wizard!" the Demon hummed beside him. The abbess stared at the dancing spark, paling.
"Skip around the battlefield," Matt directed. "Speed up the aging rate for every mortal out there. Let every man there be well into senility by morning."
"I hear and go!" The Demon winked out.
"Serves them right," Matt growled. "I got the idea from one on their side who threw an aging spell against me. I countered it - but only by using Max. They don't have him to call on, and this should take them days to undo, if they can. I think your ladies can clear the field before then. So you won't need a wizard to help ... What's the matter?"