Free Rogue Powers by Phil Stern Page B

Senter then kicked out the second Karden’s legs, driving his sword down through the native warrior’s back.
    Warily, Anson stared at the army corporal, now about thirty feet away. Rather than pride at a job well done, or relief at the cessation of danger, pure hatred pulsed unabated from the Demon’s mind. Looking around, Senter smiled at Anson.
    “Well done, my friend!” The patrol leader yanked his blade out of the now-dead Karden. “Although fighting Kardens must be easy when you can just throw them over cliffs and trip them onto their own weapons, now isn’t it?”
    His heart racing, Anson girded himself for some kind of attack. But Senter merely laughed, turning about and casually walking in the other direction, toward the still moaning Conger.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Though there was no doubt Senter knew his secret, perhaps Conger might still be confused. “I think...I think they just fell from the trees!”
    “Sure they did. Things like that must happen all the time around you, don’t they?” Now reaching their wounded comrade, Senter drove his blade into Conger’s chest. Gasping, the young recruit thrashed feebly, then laid still.
    “No!” Hardly believing his eyes, Anson charged forward several steps, lurching to an uncertain stop. “We could have saved him!”
    “Maybe.” Senter shrugged. “Maybe not.”
    Clearly, there was no further need for pretense. Letting his own rage surge to the fore, Anson mentally flung a handy stone. “You’re a Demon and a murderer!”
    Senter smiled, casually deflecting the stone with his blade. “Just figured that out, did you?”
    “Why did Conger have to die?” Trying not to retch, Anson endured another wave of Senter’s venomous, depraved energy. Obviously, the army corporal used base emotions to bolster his power, whatever it was. “He has nothing to do with this!”
    “Not any more, he doesn’t.” Holding his blade casually at the ready, Senter sauntered toward him, smoothly closing the gap. “Anyway, Conger was killed by the Kardens. As will you, in my official report.”
    Reflexively bringing his own blade up, the young telepath thought quickly. Senter was clearly an expert swordsman, and though he’d learned much as a recruit, Anson would be at a clear disadvantage there.
    Yet Senter still hadn’t revealed any overt power. Perhaps the Demon needed to be closer for his ability to work? It would certainly explain much. Anson needed to act quickly.
    “I’m sorry, Senter.” Coming to a firm decision, Anson took a deep breath, letting his sword drop. “But you’re leaving me no choice.”
    Now about fifteen feet away, Senter stopped. “So now you wish to murder me, is that it? I see we’re not so very different after all.” Still grasping the sword in his right hand, Senter now held his arms out, almost in a gesture of surrender. “Very well, then. I am at your mercy. Kill me, if you can.”
    Surely Senter knew he could dispatch him as easily as the Karden archers? Perhaps the Demon was even more unbalanced than Anson even knew? Well, he’d figure that out later. Feeling both a wave of relief at how easy this would be, along with a  twinge of conscience at his first cold-blooded human murder, Anson reached out to mentally grab the Demon.
    It was as if a bomb exploded in Anson’s head. Flung back down on the grass, momentarily blinded, he was unable to think. Rolling up onto his knees, still in agony, the commoner youth tried regain his balance. Yet Anson’s entire brain throbbed, as if thrashed from the inside. Desperately lunging to his feet, he promptly tripped over a rock, immediately falling down again.
    Terrified, Anson felt Senter approach, the Demon’s malignant mental aura now fused with a deep satisfaction.
    “I wouldn’t move too quickly if I were you.” A swift kick from Senter’s boot crashed into Anson’s side. “Just lay there, like a good boy.” There was a soft pulse deep within the