by Unknown
Her scales were gone, and legs folded in place of the serpent’s tail. As she huddled with her arms about her, her slate-gray eyes followed my motions.
Under that gaze, I stopped.
She pulled her knees closer to her chest.
I had known villages where men died and women fell ill under devilish curses. Once the master slew a she-devil living as a birthing woman, and I saw the children whom she delivered, their tongues thick and their minds as weak as an animal’s. And here, curled in a heap in front of me, was another like the birthing woman.
I strode forward, raising the saber and tightening my grip on the hilt as my arm waited for the moment. As I neared, she dropped her gaze and closed her eyes. Her shoulders tightened, waiting for the blow to come. I stood to strike and as I readied, she took a last harsh breath.
She coughed.
Again, a deep, choking cough that clenched her frame.
Candrin’s smoke, caught on my clothes.
I dropped my hand. Tears washed across my vision, and I stumbled back.
Through a blur I looked to the master, so still, and to Candrin’s body curled in the grass. My breathing slowed. Finally, I returned to the master and set to work. I listened for the she-devil’s movements in case she should now choose to strike, but she did not come any nearer.
I took the master’s pack from him, but I returned him his saber. I had no wish to heft its weight again. His pack was light and held no provisions for the journey out. I laid the master straight, his tail coiled where his feet had been. Then I piled rocks around him, many and many until only a heap of mountain stone marked where he lay.
Candrin’s tunic and cloak were bloodied, but his pants were only travel-soiled. I stripped him of them, folded them, and laid them near the heap of stone. By them I left my cloak and my heavier shirt. I stood quietly there for a moment, and then took my knife, the master’s gift to me, and laid it atop the clothing.
I glanced once to the she-devil, still watching me with eyes like wells of shadow. I nodded to her. She was still for a moment, and then she dipped her head in return.
Turning away, I took up my pack and crossed that eerie plain to the passage by which we had come. I did not look back to Candrin’s body, left for the ravens.
My master was a mighty man, and more than a man. He slew devils with a sure hand as none other did, finding them when no other could and striking them down with a great strength. They say if he had prevailed, our land would be free of devils. I doubt this very much. When the last that turns is slain, still there remain the devilish creatures who do not turn, formed as men.
© Copyright 2008 Sarah L. Edwards
