I took in our adversary, surprised by the state we’d found her in. Mara looked haggard. Her inky black hair fell wildly out of place, and her clothes had been ruined, torn, stained with blood and dirt.
Sitri halted our steed and dismounted. My heavy boots clacked as I landed by his side. I loosed the leather straps securing my weapon to my back and pulled it into my hands. The horse was on its own now. Thanks to its formerly human mind, it could defend itself, or else become a convenient distraction.
My heart beat quick with anticipation; tension coiled in the air. I needed to land only a single strike to disable her. Sitri had warned me against trying. He took his revolver in one hand and a spiral dagger in the other.
We were ready to engage.
I hung left, just as we’d rehearsed, while Sitri advanced on my right towards the bridge.
“Drop your weapons and prostrate before your Prince, Mara,” he called as his feet met the first cut stones. “I will consider giving you a place in my prisons if you comply.”
Dark, cruel laughter spilled forward from the demoness, sending primal fear straight to my core.
“You expect me to stand idly by and watch as the Duke of Peace and Love rots your kingdom from within?”
I swallowed. She wasn’t about to surrender.
From beneath her tattered cloak and dress, Mara drew a silver blade. It gleamed in the light of our demon steed’s mane, maintained and pristine, even as Mara fell into neglect. “You always were a fool, Sitri. Taking help from that monster will undo you.”
“Halt her.”
At Sitri’s command, the demon hounds leaped. The muzzle of his revolver flashed, the echo of a gunshot followed, but Mara was already in motion. A shower of stone on the far bank warned me he’d missed his mark. The first hound lunged with fangs bared, only for its quarry to duck beneath it. Claws scrabbled on the bridge. It couldn’t find a foothold and toppled over the platform’s edge with a whimper. My heart sank as I watched it plummet into the abyss—a timely reminder that the gorge posed a danger to us all.
Mara closed in on Sitri. I drew a sharp breath. They turned into a whirlwind, blades clanking, and Sitri fired another shot. At point-blank range, he must have struck her, but it didn’t slow Mara in the slightest.
She whipped around the Prince, disengaged, and sprinted out into the badlands. Sitri hesitated at the bridge’s edge, hound at his side, pistol raised, but silent.
Why wasn’t he advancing? This was our chance, what we’d hoped for; a clean shot for Sitri, an opportunity to engage far from the gorge’s banks, a weakened foe who would sooner outrun us than fight. My body felt stronger, my senses sharper than they’d ever been before. I held a deadly weapon with deceptive range. If all she wielded was a knife, and if Sitri had already wounded her, my odds wouldn’t be half bad.
Someone had to stop her, and it might as well be me.
I sprinted after Mara, following her away from the gorge, breaking from the rest of the party. Sitri called to me from behind, but I ignored him. The demoness spun on her heels. We came face-to-face, just a few arm’s lengths apart.
Mara smirked, and I knew I had her full attention.
At the crack of Sitri’s revolver, we jumped into action, stone fracturing beneath where Mara had stood a heartbeat earlier. As she closed the distance between us, I moved to strike her legs. She leaped out of the way of my downward swing, just as I’d seen Sitri do in training, moving fast enough to blur. The head of my weapon screeched as it scraped the ground. Its weight pulled me down. By the time I reset my stance, Mara was upon me.
She thrust her knife towards my waist. Sharp, cold pain lanced through me as it slid between the layers of my armor. Mara’s smirk gave way to a grin. She jerked the handle of the blade and tore it across my stomach. Wet heat rose from the wound. I shrieked, stumbled backward.
“Untrained, unbalanced, undisciplined,” Mara muttered as I pulled myself from her blade.
I clutched at the freshly opened wound. Blood welled up from it, seeping between my fingers, hot and sticky.
“I was content to let you be,” Mara shouted, “but if you’d like to give me a second chance to cut you down, I don’t know how I could resist!”
I narrowly staggered out of the way of another strike aimed straight for my throat. My stomach screamed in agony with every step. I tightened my hold on my weapon, prepared to parry any incoming attacks. Before they came, a third gunshot made Mara flinch. Her blood spattered against the stone beneath her, black as ink against gray rock.
That was my chance. I tried to raise my morning star. My torn innards strained in protest. Unable to support its weight, I dropped the weapon. It crashed to the ground. I followed it moments later, landingon my hands and knees, heaving for breath.
Somewhere behind me, the remaining hellhound’s claws scraped stone, and Sitri’s boots thundered through the badlands. The hound arrived first, bounding over me in its stride and barreling straight for Mara. Just as she had before, she ducked out of its way and let it skid to a halt.
I suddenly understood Sitri’s hesitation to bring me along. I was once again in over my head. Two more rounds fired from his revolver, and then he appeared at my side. One bullet struck Mara in the chest. Crimson droplets erupted from the wound. Her mouth contorted in a scream. Sitri’s eyes met mine.
He hesitated for just a moment, aiming at the injured demoness, teeth bared, and—click.
Sitri’s pistol failed to fire.
Dread washed over me in waves. How many rounds had he used up? It would take Sitri time to reload, time we didn’t have, not with Mara so close. She gave a wet, raspy laugh, likely doing the same math I was.
