Paladin's Faith by T. Kingfisher

Author:T. Kingfisher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: T. Kingfisher

Marguerite knew that she shouldn’t be surprised. She had seen the paladins fight before. She had seen them take down a demon steer, for god’s sake. She knew what they were.

But she had never seen them when the battle tide took them, and it was extraordinary.

They were so goddamn fast. The men attacking them seemed like they were swimming in syrup. Wren—short, frumpy, frizzy Wren, who fretted about her hair and how to use her fan—blocked a sword with the handle of her axe, smashed her buckler into the wielder’s head, ducked casually under a strike from another blade, opened the second man’s guts up with a backhanded swipe, and then turned back and buried the axe in the first man’s skull. Her expression of careful concentration never wavered once.

And Shane. Shane who was so guilty and so fretful under the surface calm, Shane with a voice so gentle and trustworthy that it cut Marguerite’s heart…Shane blocked a sword slash with his own blade and drove his mailed fist into the man’s throat, knocking him sideways into the man that Wren had casually gutted, then blocked another strike that had been aimed for Wren’s head while she wrenched her axe free.

The big man dressed as a laborer had a hammer. He swung at Shane’s head and the paladin stepped forward, not back, practically into the man’s arms. The hammer shot past him and the man’s forearm slammed into his shoulder. Shane didn’t even seem to notice. He shoved forward and twisted and his sword slid out of the man’s back. Shane caught the hammer-wielder as he fell, threw him into the remaining duelist, and Wren’s axe opened up the last man’s leg veins while his arms were full.

Gods above and below.

And just like that, their pursuers were dead. Shane and Wren stood back-to-back amid a wreckage of bodies. One of the men at their feet let out a long, rattling groan, and then was silent.

“My god,” said Davith.

Wren twisted like a cat and locked eyes on him. Her eyes were flat as stones and her teeth were bared. “Wren…?” Marguerite said, even as her brain hissed a warning. Has she not come out? Is she still berserk?

Wren raised the axe and charged.

“Wren, no!” Marguerite flung herself sideways, trying to get out of Davith’s way. There was no way that he could fight off the paladin with his bare hands, but maybe he could get out of the way, run long enough for someone to talk her down—

Davith hesitated a moment too long, his mouth open in shock. Wren swung the axe high and brought it down.

Shane’s sword blocked the blow. The blade broke. Davith fell backward. Wren hissed like a tea kettle, but Shane barreled into her, smashing her against the wall and pinning her with his weight alone.

She snarled, dropped her shoulder, and tried to lift him off his feet. Shane flung the broken sword aside and put himself between Wren and the others.

The stained axe blade lifted again, and Shane had no weapon in his hands.

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