The Lady's Man by Greg Curtis

been called. Without any more thought than that he pulled the trigger, determined to end the matter before whatever evil he had uttered appeared. But it was already too late.
     
    Like a man in a daze he watched as the bolt left the crossbow, streaked at its target and at the last instant veered aside to hit the ground not six inches from Mayfall's head. Yorik almost rubbed at his eyes as he saw that, wondering for a moment if he'd somehow missed, but he knew he hadn't. The shot was good, clean. It should have skewered the wizard right through his head. Ended it all. Instead something had pushed it to one side.
     
    Without even thinking about it Yorik began to reload the crossbow, pulling back the drawstring as fast as the lever would let him, and dropping another bolt in the slot. It was a fast reload, perhaps five or six seconds at most, but by the time he raised his head again to sight his target, it was to find that things had changed. Mayfall still lay there, dying by degrees and screaming his pain and hatred, but surrounding him was some sort of magical shimmer in the air. A distortion similar to the heat haze above the ground on a hot day. But this was no natural thing. It was magic, dark and terrible magic, and the cold down Yorik's back only got worse. Something evil had arrived. Something even more evil than the dying wizard.
     
    “Lady protect me. Guide my aim.”
     
    He uttered the ancient prayer by instinct, even as he raised the bow for another shot. But this time instead of aiming at Mayfall he began hunting for whatever evil thing the wizard had brought through from the other side, hoping to kill it. The thing from the demon worlds. The demon. For that was the only thing it could be.
     
    He could feel its presence like an unclean slime all over his skin, and he knew he was in trouble. He had to fight something far more powerful than him, and at the same time stop it from corrupting what little remained of his soul. For a mere human that was impossible, and even for a paladin of the Order of the Lady calling on his gifts, it was extremely difficult. Yet it wasn't a choice. Such things had to be fought with every breath of one’s body.
     
    Casting his spell of true sight once more, though the first cast was still working, he began searching all around for the demon. Still he couldn't find him and that was wrong. All around him he could see the signs of the demon's passing. Grass that had already begun wilting from its presence, the stone wall which was slowly turning black, even the smoke which was slowly thickening all around them in the clear air. But he couldn't see the demon itself, and that worried him.
     
    Demons were more than just tough. They were unkillable, and only able to be vanquished back to their realms with great magic, too often after good paladins had given their lives trying to stop them. An invisible demon would surely be much worse again, and he was only a single paladin alone, a long way from home. Worse, he was a paladin who had failed his duty, failed his patron. Nevertheless, he would fight the evil though it cost him his life and soul. That was his duty.
     
    “For the Lady.”
     
    He cried the ancient battle cry taught to his illustrious predecessors many centuries before, and to his surprise, suddenly felt the gifts of the Lady beginning to fill him as they hadn't in far too long. He wasn't worthy of them, but he was infinitely grateful, for with them, he had a chance.
     
    His strength, only moments before on the point of failing from so many days of riding to the point of exhaustion, was suddenly returned and much more besides. His eyesight sharpened immeasurably so that he could pierce even the darkest gloom, while his armour and sword began to glow with the aura of the divine. Even his courage returned as his doubts fled. What he had been doing before was wrong, not something he could have justified asking the Lady to aid him with, and the magic he had used had been only