A week passed with no further attacks, and Saran began to feel more secure. He continued his magical training with Blaise, while Ellen tutored him in various forms of hand to hand combat. It was far from as simple as the stories made it sound; where a character might spend a few weeks, and suddenly be a master warrior, but he felt that he was getting the hang of the basic forms she drilled him in.

They had reached the city of Vega now, and were using the opportunity to stock up on supplies. Ellen was in the process of bartering with a blacksmith to replace her lost throwing knife, and Saran was fighting back a yawn.

“I want this one, but with the balance so off, I can only pay you half.”

“Bullcrap.” The blacksmith snorted through a thick handlebar mustache. “If the balance was really that off, you wouldn’t be buying it. You pay full price or nothing at all.”

“But-” The blacksmith cut her off, pointing to a sign that read “No Haggling.”

“Fine.” Ellen grumbled, handing over the requisite coins.

The smith’s demeanor instantly shifted from stern to jovial. “Lovely. Anything else I can do for you ma’am? Perhaps your son needs something?”

Ellen bristled. “No. That’s all. Thank you.”

“Have a pleasant day ma’am.”

Ellen’s shoulders were tense as she stalked off, and Saran fell in behind her. “Um, why do you look so angry?”

“He called me ma’am just to be a dick.”

“I mean you were criticizing his work.”

Ellen glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “If you think criticizing women is a good idea, I may have to intensify your sword training. You’re gonna need it.”

Saran blushed, and looked away while Ellen snickered at him. “Come on,” she said a moment later. “Blaise is waiting at the inn, let’s get some exercise shall we?” With that, she accelerated into a heavy jog. Saran groaned, and matched her speed. Despite her being several inches shorter than Saran, she wasn’t even winded as they wound their way through the stalls. For his part, Saran was gasping; accustomed to the slow march of the road, but not the near sprint he was moving at now.

Suddenly, from behind an alley, a foot stuck into his path, sending him tumbling into the pavement with a painful smack. Coming to stop after a painful roll, he looked up as Ellen stood in front of him, sword drawn towards the alley. A moment later a gang of six young men strode out confidently, holding drawn swords.

“Nothing personal, someone offered a lot of money.” The leader said.

Ellen snorted. “I bet your mom tells the same story about how you were born.”

The man snarled, and his followers spread out to encircle the pair. “We’ll see how big your mouth is with my dick in it!”

She looked at his crotch thoughtfully, hand dramatically on her chin. “I’m confused, are you telling me to close my mouth? I mean I’m pretty sure I could whistle, and it would still fit.”

The circle of men ignored Saran completely at this point, focusing their attention on Ellen.

“Well, I guess if it’s all six of you, I might have to open my mouth partway.”

Suddenly, Ellen was twirling into action, two of the thugs sprouting throwing knives from their throats. The remaining four sprinted toward her, but instead of allowing them to box her in, she singled one out. Charging him, she cut off the hand which had been swinging a sword at her, slamming her blade into his heart a moment later. Withdrawing her sword from the corpse, she turned to face the three remaining men. The leader was among the three still standing and he snarled at her blindly, even as his compatriots began backing off.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Come on dickless. Prove what a big strong man you are.” Ellen said, waving him on lazily.

He charged with a roar, swinging his sword from right to left. Flowing to the left parallel to the motion of his sword, Ellen moved past him, and hamstrung him with two quick strikes to the back of his calves. She continued walking as he tumbled, losing his footing in the middle of a dead sprint. His companions surrendered before she could reach them, and she shook her head at them. “Smart move guys.” She took their weapons from them without resistance before hamstringing them like she had their leader.

Saran noticed a crowd of bystanders for the first time when someone whooped at her treatment of the prisoners. A canny merchant began hawking popcorn from a hastily assembled popcorn-maker, and already had a small line.

“Alright Dickless, time to talk. What do you know about the person who hired you?”

“My name is Grayson bitch!”

She tutted and picked up a throwing knife from one of the corpses, twirling it in her hands. “No, I think it’s Dickless. Unless you start telling me what I need to know, that is.”

Someone in the crowd hooted, and Saran noticed there were town guards in the popcorn line. Several more were quietly handcuffing the other thugs, and dragging them away by their legs. The screams of the prisoners notwithstanding, it seemed as if they were trying not to draw attention to themselves.

Dickless spat on the ground. “Fine, whatever. The guy was short, white skin, I couldn’t really see him other than that ‘cause he had a big cloak on.”

“So some random guy in a cloak offers you a bunch of money to kill someone, and you think it’s a great idea?”

He shrugged. “Most people aren’t fucking ninja warriors or whatever.”

She shook her head, and rolled her eyes. “Did he give you an upfront fee?”

“Of course, I’m not stupid.”

“Coulda fooled me.” She said, as she dug through his pockets, and relieved him of a large pouch. Looking inside, she whistled. “I’m surprised they parted with this much for a suicide mission. The Duchess must be paying through the nose for this. Anything else you want to add before the guards haul you off?”

“No.” The man said sullenly.

“Then I dub thee sir Dickless. Have a nice life.” With that, her thick boot slammed into his groin. To the chorus of his screams, she turned, and walked away, pulling Saran to his feet from where he had been sitting cross-legged.

“I’d say that went well.” Ellen told Saran as they walked back to the inn.

“For you maybe.” Saran muttered.

“Hey now, we restocked our traveling funds, and got more details on the plague-walker. Besides, you’re alive. Every battle where you walk away at the end is a victory, got it?”

Saran nodded, rubbing his shredded elbow.

Ellen rolled her eyes. “Alright, give it here.” She said, motioning at his elbow. Saran did, and she healed it with a touch. “Now, no more complaining got it? We’re alive, and the sun is shining.”

Saran nodded, and Ellen looked away. As she did, the sun caught her blond hair, speckled with blood, and gave the effect of a bloody halo. Realizing he was staring, Saran looked away quickly. The rest of the trip progressed in silence.

………………………………………………………

Back at the inn, Ellen explained the situation to Blaise.

“Perhaps we should avoid towns altogether? Live off the land?” Blaise suggested.

Ellen shrugged. “It’ll just give them different opportunities to mess with us. For all we know, the goblin horde was their doing.”

Blaise nodded. “That is something I had considered.”

Ellen nodded grimly. “We’re probably better off sticking to the plan. Follow the road eastward, and then wind our way up the coast one we reach it.”

“Wait we’re not going to try to throw them off the trail or something?” Saran spoke up from the corner where he was packing his bag.

“We’ve already been trying, you just haven’t noticed. At this point if they’re still on our trail, then they have some magical means of tracking us.”

“Could they have someone’s blood? They could use that to track us.”

Blaise looked troubled. “Possibly. It’s unlikely to be one of us. The only way they could acquire ours is if they got their hands on one of our contracts. Since the mercenaries guild keeps contracts in a dimensional vault, under heavy guard, I don’t see how they could have acquired one. Perhaps they have some of yours?”

Saran shook his head. “Dad burns any blood I shed personally. Says he doesn’t trust anyone else with it.”

Blaise nodded. “Then they have some other method of tracking us. Don’t worry. We will keep you safe.”

Saran smiled. “I trust you, I just don’t like feeling helpless.”

Ellen reached out, and ruffled his hair, grinning. “No one does, but we all have to put up with it sometimes. Welcome to adulthood kid.”

Saran’s only response was to turn, and stick his tongue out at her.

Ellen stood. “Everyone packed? Let’s get going.”