"What
have you done!" Jarod exclaimed, running down the steps to challenge the
man, who flinched back before the now greenly glowing blade and Jarod’s fury.
"I’ve
done nothing! What mean you, man?"
"It’s
not him." Marea interjected, coming down to stand beside her husband.
"It’s the residue on the blade." The stranger’s eyes snapped down to
the blade hanging from his belt. A look that contained both horror and
revulsion and a dawning realization of just what this might mean.
"I
didn’t know! I swear! I cleaned the blade!" He was now nearly hysterical.
Children in both the wagons broke out crying and looks of horror spread across
the faces of everyone else not crying but old enough or smart enough to
understand what this could mean.
"It
means you have probably carried the spell of the Necromancer with you!"
Marea said. "Hurry and remove your scabbard. It must be purified. Quickly
now man!" She added as he stood there a moment longer, stupefied.
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