a seat across the table.
“What’s this?” Pantros asked.
James slid the box closer to Pantros as he sat down. “It’s a sword and it’s yours.” James opened the box to reveal a sheathed rapier with a polished silver bell. “My father was an axesmith and occasionally did trade with the Abvi. This here is Abvi made, not quite as good as Matderi made, but far better than you’ll find in this town or anywhere for a hundred leagues.”
“It’s beautiful,” Pantros said. He reached for the hilt. James hand closed over Pateros’s wrist.
“Hold up there,” James said. “This here is not even a normal Abvi sword. It’s got, um...I’m not sure how to say this…”
“Is it cursed?” Pantros asked, pulling his hand away.
“No, that’s not what I’d call it, but perhaps some would.” James reached into the box and gently lifted the sword by the scabbard. He seemed to carefully avoid touching the hilt or bell. “I don’t know what you know of Abvi, but when they die, they don’t really die. They transcend this world, taking their bodies with them. But that only works for Abvi that live out their full lives. When one dies early, they actually die and their souls wither and fade unless something is done to preserve it. One way to preserve it is to contain the soul in a magnificent work of art. This sword is such a work of art.”
“You’re saying the sword is possessed?” Pantros asked. He was not so eager to take the blade and set his hands on the table.
James nodded. “The sword is alive. It’s not able to fight on its own, but it can offer advice. I’ve never spoken to it, but it’s supposed to be the soul of a veteran warrior killed in battle. It’s dormant right now, asleep. It will wake up when drawn and it will bond to whoever pulls it from the scabbard.
“I don’t think I want to draw it if it’s sentient. I can’t take on another responsibility right now.” Pantros said.
“The thing is that I’ve had this sword for two centuries and my father for a few before that. We’ve never really felt right with the idea of selling it. But it needs to be drawn and have the opportunity to complete its life journey. Ideally, some day the soul will complete and it will transcend as it was meant to in life. If you’re not going to draw it, at least take it with you and give it to a worthy Abvi in Melnith. I will say that it’s one fine weapon and would not have any difficulty penetrating the thick hide of those hellhounds.
Pantros thought about it a moment. “I can take it with me to Melnith. I hope I don’t have to draw it on the way.”
Tara spoke for the first time since Pantros had sat at the table, “I hope so too. I’m sure you think you’re good with weapons, Pan, but the best way to avoid getting hurt in a fight is not to get in one.”
Pantros stood and took the rapier, and emulating James’ care not to touch the hilt or bell, he buckled it onto his belt. “C’mon, sis. We need to get going.”
Tara stood up and glanced around the empty room. “I know.”
CHAPTER 6: CHARLES
The village of Dragon’s Tear was little more than a large inn on the western shore of Dragon’s Tear Lake. The trail up to the inn had taken Charles and Heather three hours to climb. During that time they were passed by several carriages. When they arrived at the inn, Charles wondered if the climb had been in vain. By the look, the inn catered to the extremely wealthy and with only his sword and a blanket, Charles had no wealth.
Heather had only an ill fitting dress which she’d taken from the mining camp since her explosion had destroyed her own.
“The road stops here,” Heather said. “I’ve never heard of an Inn as a destination, just stops along the way to somewhere else.”
“I’m not sure this is the place to seek food we don’t have to forage,” Charles said. “I don’t think they’d let us in the front door.” From a distance the inn had looked large but modest; up close
“What’s this?” Pantros asked.
James slid the box closer to Pantros as he sat down. “It’s a sword and it’s yours.” James opened the box to reveal a sheathed rapier with a polished silver bell. “My father was an axesmith and occasionally did trade with the Abvi. This here is Abvi made, not quite as good as Matderi made, but far better than you’ll find in this town or anywhere for a hundred leagues.”
“It’s beautiful,” Pantros said. He reached for the hilt. James hand closed over Pateros’s wrist.
“Hold up there,” James said. “This here is not even a normal Abvi sword. It’s got, um...I’m not sure how to say this…”
“Is it cursed?” Pantros asked, pulling his hand away.
“No, that’s not what I’d call it, but perhaps some would.” James reached into the box and gently lifted the sword by the scabbard. He seemed to carefully avoid touching the hilt or bell. “I don’t know what you know of Abvi, but when they die, they don’t really die. They transcend this world, taking their bodies with them. But that only works for Abvi that live out their full lives. When one dies early, they actually die and their souls wither and fade unless something is done to preserve it. One way to preserve it is to contain the soul in a magnificent work of art. This sword is such a work of art.”
“You’re saying the sword is possessed?” Pantros asked. He was not so eager to take the blade and set his hands on the table.
James nodded. “The sword is alive. It’s not able to fight on its own, but it can offer advice. I’ve never spoken to it, but it’s supposed to be the soul of a veteran warrior killed in battle. It’s dormant right now, asleep. It will wake up when drawn and it will bond to whoever pulls it from the scabbard.
“I don’t think I want to draw it if it’s sentient. I can’t take on another responsibility right now.” Pantros said.
“The thing is that I’ve had this sword for two centuries and my father for a few before that. We’ve never really felt right with the idea of selling it. But it needs to be drawn and have the opportunity to complete its life journey. Ideally, some day the soul will complete and it will transcend as it was meant to in life. If you’re not going to draw it, at least take it with you and give it to a worthy Abvi in Melnith. I will say that it’s one fine weapon and would not have any difficulty penetrating the thick hide of those hellhounds.
Pantros thought about it a moment. “I can take it with me to Melnith. I hope I don’t have to draw it on the way.”
Tara spoke for the first time since Pantros had sat at the table, “I hope so too. I’m sure you think you’re good with weapons, Pan, but the best way to avoid getting hurt in a fight is not to get in one.”
Pantros stood and took the rapier, and emulating James’ care not to touch the hilt or bell, he buckled it onto his belt. “C’mon, sis. We need to get going.”
Tara stood up and glanced around the empty room. “I know.”
CHAPTER 6: CHARLES
The village of Dragon’s Tear was little more than a large inn on the western shore of Dragon’s Tear Lake. The trail up to the inn had taken Charles and Heather three hours to climb. During that time they were passed by several carriages. When they arrived at the inn, Charles wondered if the climb had been in vain. By the look, the inn catered to the extremely wealthy and with only his sword and a blanket, Charles had no wealth.
Heather had only an ill fitting dress which she’d taken from the mining camp since her explosion had destroyed her own.
“The road stops here,” Heather said. “I’ve never heard of an Inn as a destination, just stops along the way to somewhere else.”
“I’m not sure this is the place to seek food we don’t have to forage,” Charles said. “I don’t think they’d let us in the front door.” From a distance the inn had looked large but modest; up close
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