Verge of Darkness

  *******

   

  A short time later, Moon made his way downstairs to the main room. Casca, Pagan and Liang were shocked at his appearance. His face was ashen with pain, with dark sunken rings under his eyes.

  “What ails you Axeman?” Pagan asked.

  “Pigging headache is killing me,” Moon mumbled, slumping heavily into a chair. “And the pigging brainwort is gone.” The old woman told me to take a pinch each morning.”

  Casca looked bemused. Pagan turned to Liang. “Brainwort? Xiang-Tse taught us about healing herbs. I think that was one of them.”

  “Yes, he did,” Liang affirmed “It is called Ge gen. I used it to ease my grandmother's head pain.”

  Pagan ran his hand over his head in thought. “It is derived from a plant with distinctive seven-pronged leaves. I am certain I have seen it growing somewhere.”

  After a few moments thought, he leapt to his feet. “Ah, got it!” he announced. “Ripper and I usually stop by a stream on the way back from Arnath. The plant grows in abundance there.”

  He walked across to the seated Axeman, and clasped his shoulder. “Don't worry my friend, I will return with what you need, and no hell-spawn will stop me. Moon looked up and nodded weakly, his single eye bloodshot.

  “I’ll come with you,” Liang said, also rising to her feet.

  “No dear-heart,” Pagan said. “With Moon in this weak condition, you are needed here.”

  Returning to his quarters, he shrugged on his baldric containing several shuken, and belted his sword belt around his waist.

  He opened his door to a knock. Liang stood in the doorway with a scabbarded sword in her hand. He was about to insist that she wasn't coming with him, but she shook her head and put a finger to his lips. “Ssssh...dear-heart? After using such words, you better make sure you come back to me.” She presented the scabbarded sword to him. “This is yours.”

  Brow raised in surprise, he reached out and took the proffered gift. His breath caught in his throat as he withdrew the silver-blue blade. Liang smiled as he tilted his head and tried to read the runes etched on the blade. “This is the third Storm Blade. It rightfully belongs in your hand. Maybe someday, I might tell you what those words say.”

  Pagan unhooked his old sword from his belt and made to replace it with the Storm Blade. He paused, then took off the belt. Looking at Liang pointedly, he swung the storm blade onto his back with the hilt poking over his right shoulder.

  Liang tilted her head and studied him. She nodded in approval. “I forgot you were left-handed,” she whispered. Stepping forward she kissed him lightly on the cheek. “You better come back to me, dear-heart, or I will never speak to you again!”