“So, do I just… grab it?” Harpyn asked.

“How would I know?” Anaya snapped, growing more uneasy by the second.

“How would you know? You didn’t seem to have any trouble taking those rods, now did you?”

She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s different. Those belong to my people by right.”

“You sound pretty confident, but what’s to say that this sword doesn’t belong to my ancestors? Hm?”

Harpyn took another half-step sideways toward the dead soldier and the inert sword. He was aware that they’d already spent far too much time debating what to do with the ancient weapon. He was beginning to worry that Brugo had left without them, or he soon would if they didn’t return.

Anaya shook her head. “Are you willing to take that chance? Or do you want to end up like him?”

Harpyn turned and looked down at the dead soldier again, chewing his lip thoughtfully.

“Perhaps if we wrap it in something?”

Anaya groaned, rubbing a hand over her face in frustration. “Go ahead then. Take off your robe and use that. Let’s just get on with it before it’s dark. We could still cover some distance if we hurry.”

Harpyn did not much like the idea of removing his robe. For one thing, it was the only thing that distinguished him as a true member of the mage’s order. For another, it was the only thing that concealed his rather scrawny build and too-pale legs. He had little desire to be laughed at, especially by Anaya. Or worse, Brugo.

Still, he couldn’t just leave the sword laying out here in this field. He had no doubt it would continue to find new victims, and sooner or later, he would have to face the fact that he could’ve stopped it. Yes, he had to pick it up, and he had to carry it to Yaal. He was certain that this was his mission. No one else had seen the inside of Geor’s vault, and no one else knew what danger had been unleashed upon the world. This sword was only one small piece of the puzzle, but it was the one he had, and he wasn’t going to let it escape his grasp.

Giving Anaya one last baleful look, he tugged his robe off over his head, hunching over to keep her from staring. Shaking his robe out, he carefully laid it over the sword, making sure the entire length was covered. Then, working as swiftly as he could, he scooped the thing up, wrapping the fabric loosely around it until it was only a shapeless bundle.

“Well?” Anaya asked, eyeing Harpyn suspiciously.

“I don’t think I touched it. Let’s just hope that’s all we need to protect us from the thing.”

Harpyn himself doubted that a bit of fabric was enough to save them from the dangers of the enchanted weapon. After all, if it was that simple, Geor wouldn’t have constructed an entire magical vault to contain the things. But what was there to do? Harpyn didn’t know any spells strong enough to encapsulate the sword, and they had to do something. With any luck, they’d reach Yaal within a few days, and all would be well.

Harpyn tucked the sword under his arm and let Anaya lead the way back toward the town. To his relief, he didn’t notice anything strange about holding the sword, aside from the fact that it seemed to pulse with a sort of latent energy like a heartbeat, just as it had when he’d nearly touched it in the vault.

When they arrived at the town, Brugo was nowhere to be seen. They looked around for him briefly before discovering a sort of makeshift tavern where he’d taken up a stool and made himself comfortable. Upon spotting his companions entering the building, he raised the tankard of ale and swallowed the last of it in one giant gulp before setting the mug down.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Ah, good. I was about to order another to mourn for the pair of you. I suppose that won’t be necessary now.”

Harpyn looked at Anaya uneasily. He still wasn’t quite comfortable with the Sarizian, and seeing him half-drunk made the little mage more anxious yet.

“Here. I got you something,” Brugo said, rising from the stool and reaching for a couple of parcels wrapped neatly on the bar. He handed one to each of them and waited for them to open the packages.

Anaya gasped with surprise as a long yellow dress unfurled in her hands. She smiled up at him. “Thank you. It’s beautiful!”

He grunted. “You can change in there,” he said, gesturing toward an open door.

Harpyn set the sword down on the bar, reluctant to let it out of his hands, but seeing as they were the only ones in the place, he decided it was safe enough.

Unwrapping his own parcel, he was pleased to see a pair of leather breeches and a nice woven vest. Brugo hadn’t commented on Harpyn’s state of undress, but he was more than glad to pull the vest on and cover himself. After more than a year of wearing the mage’s robes, it felt strange to be wearing anything else. However, he was glad that he would blend in when they arrived in Yaal.

“So, that’s it then?” Brugo asked, his eyes shifting to the bundled sword.

Harpyn gave a grim nod, then looked around to make sure they were alone before he spoke in a low whisper. “We have to get to Yaal without delay. I don’t trust that thing one bit. The sooner it’s out of our hands, the better.”

Anaya emerged from the room down the hall, joining them with a little twirl. She’d apparently taken some time to brush out her hair as well, and it hung in dark curls around her shoulders.

“Are we ready?” She asked cheerfully.

“Aye. Let’s be off.”

The three of them made it as far as the edge of town before the man in charge waved them down and came jogging up.

“Sorry to see you going so soon,” he remarked. “Don’t forget to stop in on your way back from your travels. You’ll always find a warm meal and a cool drink here.”

“Thank you,” Brugo answered. “Stay safe. There are many strange happenings afoot.”

The two men clasped hands as gentlemen do, and then parted ways.

Once again, they walked the high road, glad to be moving again. If the maps were accurate, Harpyn estimated that they had at least four more days of walking ahead of them, and that was if they didn’t have any further delays. But as the sword pulsed under his arm, he had a sneaking suspicion that they had not seen their last diversion. He tried to ignore the feeling in his gut, focusing instead on placing one foot ahead of the other as they moved away from the little town and toward the capital.

Before long, Harpyn found himself bored again and in desperate need of distraction. It seemed that Brugo was no more amiable for having had a drink, so the young mage stuck close to Anaya instead.

“I was thinking,” he said idly. “What if you taught me how to use magic?”

Anaya shook her head, not even looking in Harpyn’s direction. This was not the first time he’d suggested this, although this was the first time he’d come right out and said what he meant.

“Can’t.”

“Oh, but why not? I’m a good student. I’ll follow your instructions exactly. Surely it would be better for two of us to have magic than one. I’m basically defenseless without it, truly at a disadvantage.”

“You’re right about that much, but it doesn’t change anything. There’s nothing I can do for you. It isn’t mine to teach. Besides, I don’t actually know how I would teach you.”

“Simple! The same way you learned.”

She sighed. That wasn’t simple at all. In fact, she did not recall exactly how she’d learned. Or rather, she didn’t recall being taught any particular kind of magic. All she knew was that her grandmother had passed down stories and songs, and whenever she recited them, she felt the magic within her. Or, more accurately, she felt her grandmother speaking through her, and she doubted greatly that she could teach such a thing to Harpyn. Harpyn didn’t have Makara blood. It was as simple as that.

“When we reach Yaal, you’ll have the whole mage’s order at your disposal. I’m sure they can teach you far more than I ever could. I think it best that you wait the four days until we arrive.”

Harpyn had been expecting this answer, but that didn’t make it any less disappointing. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Four days isn’t so long.”

That is, if they actually reached Yaal.