"I killed it," Pantros said.
Marc raised his forefinger, but it was Sheillene who spoke the point. "Actually Marc's knocking it to the floor was the deciding factor in that battle. You merely administered the inevitable."
Marc tapped the blade of Pantros' sword with his finger. "With a flimsy sword like that, you're not going to shift the trajectory of an airborne…whatever that was."
"Sheillene called it a Hellhound, just as James did." Pantros said. "Sheillene, have you seen these before?" *Who is that oaf calling 'Flimsy'?*
"Yes," Sheillene said. "Well, in books and a couple tapestries, not in person."
Pantros looked around. "Who said that?"
"Me," Sheillene said. *Me.*
Pantros leaned to look behind Marc. "Not what you said, Sheillene. Who called Marc an oaf?"
"No one said anything about Marc being an oaf," Sheillene said. "I think I asked if he was an ogre last night." *He called me flimsy, I called him an oaf.*
"Hold this please." Pantros handed his sword to Sheillene then dropped to the floor, searching under the tables. He crawled around behind the bar, but no one was there.
"I know what's talking," Sheillene said. "I just heard it too."
"I'm not hearing anything, now. Don't humor me." Pantros stood up behind the bar
"Your sword is insisting I return it to you." Sheillene walked over and set the sword on the counter. "It's very finicky about who touches it."
"This is talking?" Pantros picked up the sword. *Yes,* the sword said. It took a moment for Pantros to realize he wasn't actually hearing the sword with his ears but with his mind.
"It's a nice sword," Sheillene said. "Too nice for a human, many Abvi would say. Do I want to know the story about how a human boy came to possess an Abvi Ensouled Blade?"
"Not much of a story, really." Pantros shrugged. "James gave it to me. I may not be twenty yet, but I'd think what I've faced has earned the title of 'man'." *My owner is a human boy?*
"In my eyes you've been a man since you robbed Grey Ed of every last penny and gave the money to the folk of orphan's row."
Pantros groaned. "It's really hard to hold two conversations at once."
"Sheath the sword," Sheillene said. "It's only conscious when unsheathed."
Pantros did as Sheillene suggested. "Grey Ed was scum. He stole pennies from the penniless. I didn't rob him of everything though. I did, in fact, leave him with precisely one penny. And that part about Orphan's row is pure fiction. Who told you this story?"
"Rumors, mostly. Grey Ed was very vocal in his search for the boy in black silk. So vocal that it got him half-keelhauled when he got too loud in the presence of some captain with a hangover."
"Half Keelhauled?" Marc asked. "Is that half as bad as a full keelhaul?"
"Only if you can breathe water," Sheillene said. "It means they stop when they've hauled the poor sap half way around, which pretty much leaves them right at the keel." She turned back to Pantros. "And I know the part about Orphan's row is not fiction. The tales of silver coins appearing in people's soup or in their fireplaces was not the blessings of the volcano, but the work of the best roof-walker I know of."
"Isn't robbing from the rich to give to the poor a bit cliche?" Marc asked, "It’s like something from a bard's fairy tale."
"First," Pantros said, keeping his voice almost to a whisper as the tavern began surging back to life, "this will be the only conversation we ever have about my professional work. Second, I don't usually give to anyone, rich or poor. I pretty much just hoard everything. Ed was stealing from easy targets who couldn't afford to miss a penny. I simply returned to them what had once been theirs. Grey Ed's actions were getting the city ready to organize a night watch, watching for burglars. I did what needed to be done to keep my income methods safe. And third, weren't we leaving town?"
"Yes." Sheillene grabbed her bow, her quiver and her satchel. "Marc, grab Thomas and Tara, we're walking. We'll walk slowly until the three of you catch up. Out the front door and left to the edge of town, then keep going."
Pantros grabbed his sack and followed Sheillene out the door. Once outside he asked, "So are we making a run for it? Keeping them safely left behind?"
Sheillene didn't even look at him; she just shook her head and said, "I was serious about the additional numbers being helpful. We're walking slow and letting them catch up. Once they do, we'll be keeping as fast a pace as possible. I want to make it to Melnith in as few days as we can. We're even taking the dangerous route. It means we'll probably have to deal with Vulak raiders, too. Again, the additional numbers will play to our favor when the Vulak attack us."
"If numbers are so great, why not go back and get Bouncer?" Pantros asked as they walked towards the west end of town.
"Time is also important. If those things attack every day, the fewer days before we remedy the curse, the better." Sheillene motioned back towards the Inn. "Those two will be plenty for the numbers part anyway. Heck, Marc is probably several of those numbers. I don't know if he can really use those swords, but with his mass and what speed I've seen, training and skill aren't going to be all that important, not against such foes as Vulak or Giants, anyway."
CHAPTER 9: PANTROS
The first two days travelling along the old road through the forest went uneventfully aside from the daily hellhound attack. As Sheillene predicted, dispatching the demons became simple, particularly with her being able to use her bow. Pantros felt relieved that he didn't have to draw his sword again; he wasn't ready for another awkward conversation with an old Abvi soul. Marc, on the other hand seemed a little let down that the beasts never came close enough for him to use his weapons.
Sheillene could drop them long before Pantros was at risk. When, on the sixth day out of Stonewall, no demons appeared in the morning, it set everyone on edge for the remainder of the day.
"We should be passing into the Kingdom of Relarch today," Sheillene said after lunch on the seventh day. "We've been lucky. Since the disbanding of the Ignea government, I've not heard of anyone travelling the highway without being attacked by raiders of some sort."
"We don't have anything of value with us to raid," Thomas said. "It's not exactly obvious that the boy has a king's ransom in his satchel."
"Thanks, Thomas," Pantros said. "What if some bandit scout is listening?"
"Then Marc might finally get to show you that he does know how to use his swords," Thomas said.
Sheillene tilted her ear to the wind. "We're alone, here. There's an odor in the air, though. Something nasty is near to the west. Before dinner we should pass through the Abandoned Arch, and then we'll be on the heavily guarded roads of Relarch. Don't let the name fool you, the last time I passed through the Arch, it had a dozen Knights stationed there. But even on the safe kingdom kept roads, it's best not to mention who has how much coin."
"That pack's got to weigh as much as Marc," Tara said. "I couldn't lift the one you left behind the ovens."
"That was all coins," Pantros said. "I brought my gem bag. There are only a few handfuls of gold. Mostly, it's gems and jewelry with some folded felt to keep the pretties safe."
Marc pointed over the next hill along the road. "That banner there, those are Relarch's colors?"
"Should be," Sheillene said.