“And I cannot choose to be neutral?”

“You could have chosen it once. You could have chosen it twice. You have created your own situation. A neutral exists on trust. You have proven unworthy of trust. You have left yourself, and us, no choice in the matter.”

He looked down at her contemptuously. “And you are going to do this? You think yourself a power superior to me? You, who use your power to dress in a rag and appear as ugly and worn as a middle-aged farmer’s wife might after decades of fighting the land and bearing a dozen young?”

“My power may be used only to further the cause of my church and my goddess. I have willed it so.”

“Then you are mad.”

She sighed. “Aren’t we all.” It was not a question, but a statement of fact. “Still, better to become one like me than to become a thing like you.”

He drew himself to his full height and roared, “You will fall down and worship me! You will kiss my feet and lick my holy ass!”

Anger rose within her at the thought of the probable fate of those who had come before. She had nothing but contempt for such hedonistic, power-mad egomaniacs as this, and no more compunction about dealing with them than she would when dealing with a poisonous snake. “Shall we see?” she asked icily, and struck.

It was one thing to have to break down a shield, a great energy construct continually reinforced from all the available energy within a Fluxland, but it was quite another face to face, with the quarry in sight, with the energy equally available to both and in equal amounts. Whoever could grab and direct the most of that vast yet finite energy would win any such contest.