To Kill a Nightingale

All in a Day's Work

He looked peaceful now. In his dark eyes behind the half-closed lids the vacant stare at whatever vision comes upon us at our very last moment. There was a serenity to his being that would have seemed completely at odds with his character when still alive. Now it became him, somehow. The tip of his tongue peeking out from between those full lips which had so eagerly pressed on hers during these past few days. On her lips and . . . elsewhere.

But never again. She felt almost regretful thinking about it.

But that's the way it was with Runa Fair-Shield. With her, you got once chance and one chance only. You blew it, and she and you were through.

She doffed her iron helmet and ran a hand over her sweaty scalp, the close-cropped stubble of her hair prickly against the skin. She'd still not quite gotten used to the feeling. But when some bastard grabs you by your customary braid and nearly cuts your throat, well—your preferences in style tend to change pretty quick. For the same reason she'd sawed the horns off her helmet. Kind of a stupid way to decorate a helmet to begin with, now that she thought of it.

She shrugged and turned on her heel.

The kid was standing there, looking bewildered, amongst the wreckage of Dwarven machinery. Some fledgling out for adventure whom they'd found wandering about the ruins in his brand new armor, his blade and shield barely dented. Way over his head. This is how she imagined Erik had been, back in the day. They—herself and the now dead Nils at her feet—had taken the young thing along, if only to try to keep him alive.

Well, just perhaps, for eye candy as well.

He was undeniably cute in his downy, untried way. There was callow naiveté about him, innocence he tried his best to conceal. Had its own charm.

She grinned at him.

"Is he . . .?" the kid said, his eyes on dead Nils.

"No, dear, he's only resting. He'll be back up in no time and we can continue our little fight. Yes, of course he's dead, you big dummy!" At his blinking, she rolled her eyes. "You're welcome for that as well, by the way. Now, don't look at me like that! I'll have you know that he tried to screw us over and take the loot all for himself. Was gonna kill you too." She paused, gave him a significant look. "At least eventually."

Runa had invented the last bit just to see what his reaction would be like. Mildly amusing, as it turned out.

She shrugged. "In any case, we got what we—"

The kid took a careless step to the side, placing a foot on a round metal disc embedded in the floor. The disc gave with a click.

This was followed by another sound down the hall. A metallic, rolling sound. Nearing fast.

His eyes wide on her. "I didn't—"

"Look out!"

Her blades in hands, Runa pounced to step in between the young fool and the Dwarven Sphere rolling rapidly at him. It was just unraveling from its balled-up form, the metallic anthropomorph springing out from between the orb's separating halves, the long blade attached to one arm lashing out. She caught the automaton's blade in between her own crossed ones, neatly dodging the bolt which simultaneously flew from its other arm.

Runa Fair-Shield was one to brag, yet when she bragged she was rarely wrong. And when it came to being fast on your feet, she'd yet to encounter anyone who could best her. These mechanical monstrosities might have beaten most folk in speed, but not her.

She swept the machine's sword aside with her left one, then dealt an accurate and decisive blow with the right, landing a good hit at the crossbow on its other arm, incapacitating it. Then she spun to her left and gave the thing's side a hard double-blade swat. The automaton was jolted forwards a bit, then attempted to roll out of harm's way. She did not give it a chance, but dashed after it even before it got properly moving.