by Unknown
Again the swing of that blackened halberd cleaved the air like a giant’s axe, carrying the force of a killing blow. Flecked with gore, the devil upon the knight’s armor sneered viciously, its cruel eyes acknowledging that out duel could only end in death. The Hellknight knew my speed now, striking lower to limit my motion. As agile as I was, attempting to leapfrog an attack was a deadly gamble. But if I was to survive, it wasn’t the only gamble I’d be willing to try.
With his next thrust, I gripped my cloak like the cape of a bullfighter and threw it directly for his horned helm. The heavy fabric rippled between us and I followed, ready to strike. He struck first, ignoring my attempt at distraction. The halberd blade swept the ground, extended too far to sever my legs, but the shaft bludgeoned my calf. The blade jerked back toward its wielder, catching my limb in its hooklike curve, tugging my leg out from under me. A moment’s weightlessness, and then I hit the ground with a rush of breath and a clangor of collapsing steel.
Two devils glared down—the one on the armor, and the one inside it. I gripped my sword, only to have a steel-shod boot kick it away. The first blow fell, punching through scale mesh and piercing my side. The echoes within my helm made me realize I’d screamed, more out of frustration than pain.
“You could have renounced your armor. You could have left with your sisters.” The Hellknight’s voice rumbled matter-of-factly through his heavy breathing and the blood-leaking helm. “Instead, you’ve persisted in the old queen’s madness. As a Gray Maiden, still within these walls, you prove yourself the embodiment of that madness. You and your order forced this city to the brink of chaos, and for all of you the punishment is the same.” The spear-point lifted again.
I was finished—but the dead woman inside me refused to give up so easily. The old words rang through my armor before I could compare them to faded memories. Numb fingers moved as though possessed, recreating delicate signs as I thrust my arms up to meet the plummeting blade. The crimson sensation of sharp metal sheering along my wrists matched the blast of energy that burst from my palms.
The arcane darts flickered and threatened to falter, they didn’t have far to go. They lanced into the black sliver of the Hellknight’s visor, then exploded in a rain of scarlet sparks. A wail like that of a malfunctioning machine tore through the courtyard as the Hellknight and his dripping blade toppled, crashing backward into the rubble.
I lay there breathing deliberately, letting the exhaustion of bruised muscles and split veins momentarily overcome me. When I rose, I cradled my left arm. Although my steel skin was little more than scraped, it felt as though the flesh within had been reduced to ribbons. Learning the extent of my wounds would have to wait, though. Recovering my sword, I walked to the fallen Hellknight.
A thin wisp of steam, smoke, or breath rose from the soldier’s visor, and I imagined I caught a whiff of burnt meat. He lay perfectly still, and through the leering armor I couldn’t divine any sign of life.
I didn’t regret toppling him—it had been his life or mine—but I had to admit that I could all too easily become like him again: a champion of a crusade sane people could never fathom, a killer without the inclination to see or the soul to judge the difference between law and right. How many had thought the same of me?
Just in case, I kicked that bloody halberd out of his reach. Then my sword slid between the thick plates at his neck, releasing a spurt of liquid darkness and a brief choking noise more gurgle than gasp.
“Gray Maiden?” The name came unbidden, even as the steel-skinned fanatic bled out at my feet. Was that all I was even now? A shattered sword that refused to stop killing? “We’ll see.”
I turned to start the shadowed walk back to Trail’s End, a Varisian neighborhood just outside Korvosa. I couldn’t say whether I’d done right tonight, or avenged anyone who deserved it. I couldn’t say whether I’d just murdered a hero or a monster. But I was pretty sure there was a Varisian girl back in Trail’s End who would sleep better for the rest of her days knowing that the ones who killed her kin had paid for those deaths, and that she’d bought the sword that struck the avenging blow. And when you can’t afford justice, you make due with revenge.
