…There were more bangs, and a voice came, smothered by the thick oak. “We know you’re in there. Open up.”
She fell to her knees, sobbing.
-She must defend herself.-
The bangs became thumps, as a heavy shoulder shook the door in its frame.
-Now is the time for the Sword. What’s wrong with her? =
The moan became a litany. “I can’t kill, I can’t kill.”
Inspired by the splintering of the doorjamb, the Sword’s patience ran out.
-All right, I give up. EIRLIN, YOU DON’T HAVE TO KILL ANYONE. JUST DRAW THE SWORD.-
“I can’t kill, I ca…what?”
- We don’t have to kill them. Wound and disarm. But draw the Sword. Quickly!-
“Who’s talking to me?…Kitten? Is that you?”
- There is no time for this. Draw me, for the Fire’s sake. -
The door was half broken now. A leather-clad arm stretched in to undo the latch.
- DRAW THE FORGE-BEDAMNED SWORD, WOMAN!-
With a gasp, Eirlin clutched the hilt, and the Sword shrugged smoothly from the scabbard, humming with a fiery joy.
- Good evening, gentlemen. Sorry, no time for chit-chat. Shall we move straight to the part where you run away screaming and bleeding? -