Desolate Oath
Chapter 2
Vassals

Trigger Warning: Threats of Violence > Mild Violence > Play stupid games win stupid prizes.

My mind shifts between visions.

Cambions. Mind Flayers. The overwhelming stench of an illithid colony.

The sound of laughter; shrill, mad, victorious.

A scalpel. My innards in a pile on my stomach.

A sharp inhale. The smell of acrid ammonia assaults me, and dust coats my lungs. Choking, I begin coughing, rolling over onto my stomach. The cold sand saturates me, taming the heat of the morning sun.

Another violent awakening.

I don't remember blacking out, but here I am, alive.

I can't believe it. My body refuses to believe it.

I lay face down in the sand for uncounted moments before pushing myself up, fingers digging into the ground beneath me, elbows shaking.

As I stand, I rake a hand through my dark hair, instinctively pull it back between my horns.

Blood.

The morning dew clings to me like a sickness.

Blood.

It was a disorienting night.

Blood.

I'm still better off than I was.

Blood.

I suddenly remember the tadpole behind my eye.

Blood.

My skin is crawling, but something about this feels familiar. Corpses. Corpses everywhere. The silence is a comfort, and I try to gather a sense of where I am. A river flows past, but the wreckage obscures the coastline. I'm going to need to find civilization. A healer.

I'm blinded by a glint in the distance, and hold my hand up to shade my eyes. Slowly, I stumble toward it, trying to gauge what it is. I realize it's Shadowheart's body, mail gleaming in the light. I crouch and check the pulse in her neck.

She's survived, thank the Gods.

My fingers go numb and settle briefly at her throat, giving a thoughtful squeeze. She’s survived impossible odds, only to be snuffed out on a beach like this.

Bards would sing such tragedies to children.

I quickly snatch my hand away and take a deep breath, closing my eyes to reorient myself. My hand twitches rebelliously, as if disagreeing with my restraint.

Insolent cunt.

After centering myself, I grip her shoulders and gently shake her, murmuring. "Shadowheart."

She stirs and looks up at me. "It's you! How?" She presses her palm into her face, blinking away her daze before looking around. "Where are we? How are we alive?"

I hold up my hands to stop her, softening my voice into its soothing calm. "To be determined. First things first, are you hurt?"

Hesitant at first, I feel her finally fall into a subtle stillness, almost like I gave her permission to breathe. "No. I'm not hurt... thank you."

I stand and offer my hand, but she waves me off, opting to stand on her own.

She reflexively clutches at the satchel on her hip. "It is curious, though." She takes a moment to get the measure of me. "I want to thank you, for what you did for me on the Nautiloid. You could have left me behind, and for a moment I thought you had, but you came back for me. Foolish on your part, you could have died wasting precious time, but you helped me all the same." Her expression shifts from dutiful to cautious gratitude. "That sacrifice is not lost on me."

I return the gratitude with a playful smile. "The bounty on your life is a humble one. Removal of this damned tadpole." I gesture eagerly to my right eye, wanting desperately to be rid of it.

Her brow creases with remorse. "They are a problem, aren't they? As much as I would like to claim such lofty talents, unfortunately illithid parasite extraction is not a skill I possess. I'll have to repay the debt another way."

My face falls, but I maintain a modicum of optimism. "In that case let's travel together. It seems we have a shared objective." Regardless of her ability to extract tadpoles, a cleric is an invaluable ally.

Relief flashes across her eyes. "Agreed. Let's get clear of this mess and see if we can get a better idea of exactly where we are."

We wade through bodies and shallow waters before making it to a broken atrium of the ship. The chitinous hull burns slowly, and I feel the heat on my face paired with that wafting acrid smell. Shadowheart gently grips my arm and stops me.

Her voice low, she is half tucked behind me. "I see movement."

I turn back to the atrium. The shadows cast by the arching wreckage are made darker by the damnable morning light.

Shadowheart moves before I do, ducking down and tucking her away into the shadows, just behind a piece of broken hull, sunken deep into the sand. I follow behind her and we pause, allowing our eyes to adjust.

"I count three." She mutters. "Intellect devourers."

At that I grip her shoulder. "A moment, before we act."

Shadowheart nods, allowing me my moment.

I tentatively reach out, probing the psionic hum of the crawling brains. If any of them is Us, it would be another boon to my little voyage. It quickly becomes apparent that none of them are in harmony with me. A pity.

I let go of Shadowheart, straightening my lips. "Cannon fodder."

"You were looking for your little pet? Adorable. You don't seem like the sentimental type."

I open my mouth to speak but close it again. I don't know what type I am. How do I answer that?

She points to the platform above our heads. "I'm going to position myself on the high ground, while you move in."

"Ah. I see. Throwing me in headfirst. Nice to meet you too."

She snorts with a wry smile. "Do you have a better plan?"

I give her a cheesy smile, toothy and sardonic. "Go. Hopefully we can get this over with quickly."

She shakes her head and climbs up to the ledge, quiet and practiced.

When I see her drop into position, I move in. Whisper quiet, my body knows exactly how to carry itself unseen. As soon as I'm in range, I focus a blue flame into my palm and pitch it at a broken tank of caustic fluid. It abruptly explodes, blowing apart one of the intellect devourers. The other two are stunned. Shadowheart stands, and envelopes me with a cold silken blessing. I swiftly charge, drawing my greatsword and swing with precision. The blade cuts deep into the side of the brain nearest to me.

A guttural squeal pierces the air, but as I move to strike again, I am blown to my knees with a splitting psionic rupturing. My mind is gripped with the rending power of the brain behind me.

In a blink, Shadowheart appears next to me, and the startled brain must have lost focus because my mind is relinquished from its grip and I'm able to stand. Frustrated, I advance on the brain that assaulted me, catching the edge of my sword on its body. I flood myself with the power of my god, surging arches of weave crackling from hand—to hilt—to blade, blowing the brain open with vengeance.

I breathe with satisfaction, pivoting to the last one flailing on the ground. It tries desperately to find a way to its feet. Heart racing and flooded with joy, I pin it down with my boot. Watching with glee as it squishes and pops, slowly crushed beneath my weight. As it falls still, I close my eyes and sigh; I feel at peace. Soothed.

I finally turn to Shadowheart. "I thought you were going to stay off the field."

She vanishes in a puff of smoke, and I look up to see her poke her head out from her perch. "I did." She gives me a mischievous smile and climbs down.

"Clever trick! I'm impressed." I tuck my sword away as she approaches.

"I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve. Just be glad you've landed on my good side." She nudges my elbow and brushes past me, finally having a clear path through the wreckage. "We make a good team. Where did you train?"

I take a moment to consider my answer. Do I even remember? No. "To be honest, a lot of my memories are lost to me before waking up on the Nautiloid. I'm not sure there's much about me that I can share. Have you experienced the same? Is it the tadpole?"

She looks stunned. "Bizarre irony. If it is the tadpole, I wouldn't know. I'm also missing a lot of my memories, but it happened before the Nautiloid."

A curious answer, "How so? Was it some sort of accident?"

She gives a gentle shake of her head and becomes more guarded with her answer. "No. It wasn't an accident, it's... complicated." She trails off, looking straight ahead.

She's terrible at keeping secrets. Either way I neither need to know, nor do I care at this juncture, so I let the matter drop.

We both stop at the same moment. A haunting mewling drifts across the trail and reeks of a trap. Shadowheart and I share a glance and I look back at the wreckage behind us. My shoulders fall. "Let's get this over with."

She sighs and we continue toward the noise.

"Yes! Hello! Help!"

The source of the plea is a man, dressed in fine clothes, royal purples with golden filigree. A high elf with perfectly coiffed white curls and pale skin. He's unavoidable on the path and I mutter. "It wouldn't be worth doubling back for a helpless dandy."

Shadowheart scoffs, but the man looks at me, sharply. "Excuse me?"

I wave my hand at him, brushing off the comment. "What is it you need?"

His scowl is tight across his face, but he quickly sinks back into desperation. "I saw you two take down those brains, I've got another one cornered just here!"

Skeptical, I square my stance and fold my arms, tail twitching with agitation. "You don't seem too concerned. How long have you been standing here with a cornered brain?"

He waves his hands in a very wristy manner. "Details-details, help me get rid of this thing before it escapes!"

I turn my attention to the reeds and see something moving. Odd. I focus on it, having not expected to see anything actually cornered.

Everything happens at once.

I hear Shadowheart sharply inhale and shout, "Vash!"

A wild boar dashes out from the reeds.

I feel the weight of a whole entire twink pulling me to the ground, dagger at my throat.

He's wrapped around me like a hungry serpent. I feel the blade press tighter against my neck.

"One more step and he's dead!" Shadowheart must have been trying to approach.

His blade is pressed against my trachea. I don't need to speak to crush him before I die. If he's smart, or lucky, he'll cut my carotid artery before I get the chance.

He speaks into my ear, clinging to me relentlessly. "I saw you on the ship. You're one of those illithid thralls, aren't you?"

Fantastic, another lunatic dropped from the sky.

I snatch his wrist and pry it away from my neck. He nicks my throat but it's nowhere near close enough to stop me from ripping him apart.

In the same moment we both lurch, pierced by the writhing sensation of the tadpoles in our heads. The elf screams and let's go of me, pressing his hands to his eyes. I roll off him, and I'm flooded with a lot of thoughts all at once. Endless nights spent in the taverns of Baldur's Gate. Stomach churning, face smiling despite the pain. Endless conquests, couched in a burning fear ripping through me.

Shoulders tense—someone's always watching.

Hungry... hungry.

I quickly pull myself from his mind. Nothing but a carnival of suffering, something I never want to experience again.

He grips his head as the connection fades. "Gods! The smell!"

His breath is heavy as we lay next to each other. Our eyes meet with mutual concern.

"What in the hells?!" He stares at me a moment and says nothing.

We climb to our feet, and I offer him a hand up. He takes it. "You're not... you're... what are you?" My mind seems to have haunted him as much as his mind haunted me. He slowly regains his composure, straightening his posture and glancing at me with weary eyes. "This was clearly a misunderstanding. I apologize for the ambush." He dusts off his sleeves before offering a dainty hand. "My name is Astarion."

"Astarion, a pleasure. If I had been in your position I would have done the same. Vash Neel." I grip his hand, pull him into me and headbutt him right in the fucking forehead.

He staggers back, nearly falling over. "NNGGHHHH!!" He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I suppose I deserved that..." He says through gritted teeth. "Are we even?"

I nod. "If you can agree to it, then yes."

"Good..." He pulls the bottom of his tunic, meeting my eye. "So, maybe you would be so kind, oh beneficent one, to tell me what in the hells just happened?"

"You're infected with an illithid tadpole, same as us." I gesture to Shadowheart. "Through them it seems we can link our minds. We're looking for a healer. I think... that is to say, I'm fairly certain these tadpoles will turn us into mind flayers."

Astarion's eyes go wide, "Mindflayers." There is a pause before he breaks out into a fit of laughter that could only come from a marathon of torment culminating in this moment of absolute absurdity. His voice finally softens into a self-loathing resolve. "Of course! Of course. That's exactly what they do, isn't it? I would have thought nothing less!"

I stare down at him, this broken man.

Alone.

Nothing to lose.

Great at ambushes.

Has knives.

"You can travel with us if you promise to behave. I can't imagine you'll find another group roaming around with tadpoles in their skulls. We can help each other out."

He takes a moment to consider the offer. "Prudent." He rubs his forehead and then resigns himself to the idea, "I guess traveling in numbers will increase my odds at getting through this. I'd be a fool to turn you down."

"I appreciate you gracing my company with your presence." I give him a snarky smile as flashes of his rotting corpse suddenly flood my mind.

I can smell the river of gore flowing from his corpse and begin to salivate. If he becomes a nuisance maybe we can indulge ourselves.

My skull begins to quiver with the soothing grip of someone dear to me. It feels familiar, and alluring. I glance at my new companion and they both flinch with me.

"Do you feel that?" Astarion looks around, hands hover over his ears, his voice trying not to sound distressed.

Shadowheart has closed her eyes. "Yes... Where is it coming from?"

I get a fleeting vision of a mind flayer trapped beneath some wreckage. My heart pines to save it from its plight, like the hero that I am.

No.

I look around, a furious indignation overwhelms any feelings of love I might have for this creature. My senses sharpen and I dash into the wreckage, searching the shadows. I finally see two glowing molten eyes shining through the dark.

"You."

My voice hisses as I pull my greatsword. The psionic pulses coming from the dying creature become manic and batter me with desperation, trying in vain to get me to relent.

I drive the point of my blade through its chest.

It isn't smooth.

It's not clean.

It's a blade that hasn't seen a whetstone in far too long.

Silver blood bursts forth, the tissue ripping from the force more than cutting, as it should. I feel the body go limp, and it's tentacles fall limp across it's chest. The psionic barrage sputters out, slow and serene.

My arms quiver from ecstasy, and I feel that familiar driving sensation surge up my spine. I try to catch my shallow breath, closing my eyes.

I finally hear Astarion's voice behind me. "You're a paladin, right? What was the nature of your oath?"

I don't look at him, merely speak through my euphoria. "I have no recollection of what my oath is."

I don't hear him speak, and after a moment I glance at him.

He blinks. "What does that mean, you have no recollection?"

I relax my stance and finally sheath my sword. "I have no memories beyond waking up on the Nautiloid. What you see is all I have to offer you."

Astarion's jaw drops, excited. "A tall, dark, and mysteriously oathless paladin? How exciting!" He leans into Shadowheart, "I'd rather have a wild card on my hands than Oath of the Ancients or—" he gags lightly, "Devotion." He closes in on me and grabs my arm possessively, hanging off me with wry curiosity, "Tell me, do you feel particularly vengeful?"

I laugh and gently tap my thumb to his forehead. He tries not to show the flinch, but I feel it. I gift him a small pulse of healing light, and the vague bruise from my headbutt disappears. He gingerly rubs the spot, looking confused, like he hasn't felt a modicum of empathy in an age. I grab his shoulder. "I promise not to be a stick in the mud, if that's your concern."

He looks up at me, his face falling back into his default snark. "Always. There's nothing more insufferable than a self righteous paladin."

I might very well be insufferably self righteous. We'll just have to see which direction the wind blows. I nod my head beckoning them onward. "Let's keep going. There's got to be civilization close by, especially since we're this close to a river."

Clearing the wreckage, I finally get the first breath of clear, cold air. Probably the first clean breath I've taken since waking up. We're upwind from the crash, following a dusty trail that looks like it used to be a tributary. More importantly, it looks heavily travel-worn. People have come this way. Recently.

Astarion suddenly stops and looks into the distance, eyes sharp, senses heightened. I stop next to him and focus.

I look back and hold my hand up to Shadowheart. She understands and stops abruptly.

After a moment I hear it. A soft grinding sound. Astarion grabs my arm and points to the right of the path. "There."

A shifting darkness whirls against a tall stone cliff face lining the path. It seems to be the source of the sound.

I place my hand on his back before stepping toward it.

He scoffs. "Darling, I was pointing at it so we could avoid it. What in the hells are you going to do? Fix it?"

I glance back at him. "I just want to understand what's going on."

He throws his hands in the air. "Well, I'll go fetch the tea and biscuits while you find out what its name is."

I get close enough to the anomaly to see it's a corrupted portal. It's been reduced to a sparking void spiral. Useless.

Astarion and Shadowheart have followed, but at a distance. They're as curious as I am, I'm sure, though more appropriately cautious.

Shadowheart's eyes track the void. "I think we've seen enough. Best not to meddle. It's nothing to do with us."

I step closer and Astarion grabs my arm again. "When it comes to danger, you're like a moth to a flame, aren't you? You can't be this dense."

A broad smile crosses my face, and I place my hand over his. "If I get killed, there will be one less jackass in Faerûn."

He scoffs. "If you get killed, I lose my meat shield."

He's got me on that one. I gently grip his fingers and detach him from my arm. "Stand back, if it'll make you feel better."

He rolls his eyes. "You didn't need to give me permission. I'm not getting anywhere near that thing."

At that moment, a hand pops out of the broken portal. "It's safe, I promise! However, I could use some assistance!"

"You see Astarion? It's safe." I give him a wry smile.

"By Tymora's grace." He steps back and allows me to proceed.

As I study it, I finally realize this isn't just metaphysical. It's an unstable pocket of the Weave. I need to settle its roaring mania before I can approach it. I hold out my hand and begin to press my will into the chaotic Weave, unraveling the thrashing magic.

The man's voice sounds hopeful and excited. "Yes! Yes, keep doing that! You should be able to pull me out now!" The hand grasps at the air, desperate.

I move to grasp his hand, but my vision narrows as I watch the thrashing branch of flesh in front of me. Something turns over in my stomach, and I feel a strong surge of crackling divinity crawl up my back and plant itself firmly in my mind. I become delirious and my blood screams.

I quickly grip my head, closing my eyes tight. I can feel my grimace tighten across my face.

Take. Cut. Take it... Rip. Tear. Crack crack crack!

The voice is overwhelming; my heart yearns to obey. I try to maintain my balance, but my body is twitching in a way I can't control.

Insufferable blight. I'm not maiming this man in front of the others. I have no interest in traveling alone until I get my bearing. With a heavy exhale, I relax my body. After a few moments, my mind is settled, and I return to myself.

I look back at the hand and hear the voice, deflated at my absence. "H-Hello...?"

"Hold tight." I grip his wrist and the instant I do, I realize he won't be relinquished without a fight. I might end up ripping his hand off regardless of my intentions.

I brace my footing and pull. His arm has grown sweaty, and it slips through my hands, throwing me to the ground with a heavy thud. Trail dust plumes around me.

I feel Astarion tightly grip my shoulders. He begins goading me on excitedly. "You're not going to let the howling death hole win, are you? Get up and try it again!"

I snort and push him over. He lands on his ass, but he can't help but laugh at our shared sense of mischief. I stand over him, holding out my hand. "Give me your kerchief."

He clicks his tongue. "And here I thought you were going to offer me a hand up."

"Maybe one day. When you deserve it."

His jaw drops with playful indignation. He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to me.

Even that is lacy and decadent. This time I genuinely offer my hand and I help him up. "Tie our hands together."

"No thank you, darling, I've never been into bondage."

"Astarion." I gesture toward the beckoning hand.

"OH! You meant that hand. Right." He snatches the handkerchief back from me. "It'll be my pleasure."

I grip the wrist once more as Astarion secures us. He then retreats to a very safe distance.

This time, as I pull, I feel the man shift. With a final yank he comes flying out, knocking me to the ground once again. He lands on top of me. He's a slight man, only human. He groans as he fights against his knees to stand.

He's dressed in weathered robes, has long, tawny hair, and a modestly kept beard. He looks like he hasn't left his home in weeks. I take my dagger and cut us free from the kerchief before the man helps me to my feet. "Friend, I cannot express how grateful I am. My name is Gale of Waterdeep."

I hear Astarion whimper. "My handkerchief..."

"Vash Neel, very nice to meet you. How in the nine hells did you get stuck in that portal?" I eye the wall; the runes of the portal have stabilized with Gale now properly extracted.

"It was an act of self-preservation of course. I was in a free fall after having been thrown from the crashing nautiloid. I did what I could to manipulate the Weave to save myself from crashing into the ground."

Shadowheart approaches and looks him over. "So you're a... sorcerer? Wizard?"

He smiles proudly, "Wizard renown! I think..." He glances at me bashfully and clears his throat. "You were a captive on the Nautiloid as well, correct?"

"I was, yes. Were you also infected?"

"Indeed. A most unfortunate fate. Doomed to undergo an illithid transformation. The process is called ceramorphosis, and it's something I'd rather like to avoid."

I give him a welcoming smile. "Of course. Seems you've been rescued by fellow survivors." I see relief wash over him and I broaden my stance. "Does a Wizard renown know how to extract these tadpoles?"

He breathes in sharply through his teeth. "No... unfortunately."

Of course he doesn't. It can never be that easy, can it? "Well, join us if you wish. We're looking for a healer. It's our priority given the imminence of our plight."

He nods vigorously. "I'm honored to have the invitation. I don't need much convincing, things are dire. Please, lead the way. You have my gratitude twice over."

Add another to the tally. A wizard is always a boon.

We keep to the dusty path until we hear a frantic conversation between a man and a woman. Two tiefling scouts, and they have something trapped in a crude cage hanging from a rocky outcropping.

"What is she, Damays? Some sort of hobgoblin?"

"I think it's another one of those Githyanki raiders. The ones Zorru mentioned after he came back from his scouting trip."

She looks up at the Gith with wariness, "Didn't they kill Yul?"

Damays nods solemnly. "Keep your distance, and be on your guard, Nymessa."

As we approach, Damays is the first to spot us. "Oh! A friend!" He lowers his guard. "I hope your travels from Elturel have been more merciful than ours."

The name Elturel rings a bell, but it sparks no personal memories for me. I recall vague stories about a holy city being pulled into Avernus and then restored after some grand heroic gesture. "I wouldn't call it merciful. I'm a little travel weary so forgive me if I lack courtesy. Do you know what river this is? We're trying to get our bearings."

Nymessa smiles. "That's the Chionthar. You must be quite lost if you didn't know that."

I nod solemnly. "Quite. I'm also looking for a healer, do you know if there is a village nearby that might be able to aid us?" I glance up at their captive and realize it's Lae'zel. My eyes are flat as I turn back to the tieflings.

Damays hesitates but only briefly. "Yes. Just around the bend is a druid's grove. The entrance is covered in ivy, inside you will be able to find Nettie. She should be able to help."

I nod politely when I suddenly feel the worm stirring in my head. I hear a voice surge into my mind with fury. "Enough chatter, get rid of them."

Without flinching I smile at the two tieflings. "Wonderful. I couldn't help but notice your captive is a gith warrior. I've dealt with them before. Allow me to take care of her, you two continue with your duties. I'm sure you have better things to do."

Damays glances at Lae'zel, reluctant to leave her in my care. "She's dangerous. I want to be sure she's taken care of. She might call others and put the whole grove at risk."

He clearly didn't hear me. I walk up to him and put my hand on his shoulder, gripping tightly, looking down at him. Damays bristles as he meets my eye. I smile once more with a soft, placating menace. "Brother. Go."

Another moment passes and he looks at Nymessa, the concern seeping into her. "Let's go Nymessa. I'm sure he can handle it."

I release my hold on him, and he stumbles backward as he and Nymessa scurry off down the path.

Lae'zel's impatient tone splits the peace of the morning. "Get me down!"

I smirk and cross my arms. "Where are your manners? I just saved your life. Again."

Her nostrils flair and she lifts her chin with pride. "What do you mean by again?"

I lean in. "You would have never survived the Nautiloid without me. I deserve a little gratitude."

She grunts. "Your subordination was admirable, but you have not yet earned a pat on the head for doing your duty. Now get me down!"

Her anger is tantalizing. "Say please."

"Never!" Her indignation seeps into the air around her.

Astarion lets out a trail of snorting laughter as he presses his thumb to his lips, trying to maintain composure.

I approach and Lae'zel braces herself, ready for a fight. "Calm yourself and watch your feet." I cut the rope that holds closed the hinged base of her cage. It abruptly opens and she comes spilling out in a clatter of silver armor.

She jumps to her feet. "Finally." Her voice is faintly shaken as she composes herself. "It seems you are more useful than I assumed."

"Am I? And what about you? Trapped in a cage by a couple of scouts, and where's your sword?"

Her pride is wounded. "You were not there; it was an ambush! I did not assume your people had the wits for something even as crude as that."

I nod condescendingly. "Of course, of course. You underestimated the environment and nearly got killed."

She flushes with a deep scowl.

I turn to the others. "This is Lae'zel, she helped Shadowheart and I escape the Nautiloid. Lae'zel, this is Astarion and Gale."

"We don't have time for this. We must find a cure for these parasites. We must find a creche!"

Sheathing my sword, I probe her. "And a creche is...?"

"It is many things, but most importantly, it is where we will find a zaith'isk. A machine built by my people for the sole purpose of curing us of these tadpoles."

Yet another bout of good fortune. Gale leans in. "And do you think your creche would care to help all of us? If I recall correctly, your people aren't exactly welcoming to outsiders."

"You are with me. If you assist me in finding a creche, I will ensure that you will be cured. You have my word."

Gale nods, satisfied with the clean answer.

I look down the path, in the direction of this supposed grove. "Those two refugees mentioned Zorru, it seems he saw some gith raiders. Perhaps we can find him at that grove. While there, we can talk to Nettie as well."

Lae'zel looks at me indignantly. "The only way we can be purified is with a zaith'isk, any other venture will be a waste of time."

My voice cuts with authority, recognizing now that Lae'zel needs a firm hand. "We will not leave any stone unturned when it comes to getting these tadpoles out of our heads. If you think you can go it alone, then be my guest."

She stares me down, brushing past me to kneel next to the bush behind me. I look down, seeing the hell sword lying uselessly on the ground.

She grabs it and finally comes to a decision. "Fine." She slides it into her sheath. "Onward then."