It should have been enough, and it was to relieve concerns of danger, but Ryson remained a purebred delver, and there was his curiosity to consider. It could not be so easily satisfied.
"You're running away," Ryson stated. "What makes a swallit run away?"
"Am I required to answer a delver's quiz?"
"No," Ryson replied, making it clear he would not threaten the swallit with reprisal should the creature refuse.
"Then I shall go my way, and you can go yours."
And the beast turned to leave.
Ryson might have been unwilling to intimidate the creature, but he was not so willing to give up on the questions goading his delver spirit. He also wanted to ensure Burbon's safety. If the monster refused to answer a simple question, then the delver would not trust its stated intentions of bypassing Ryson's home.
"You can go your way, but I'll follow you to make sure you stay clear of Burbon."
"Then follow if you will, but sheath that sword," the swallit demanded, turning back with a growl and glancing uneasily at the glowing blade.
"Why?"
"Because you will offer me up like a beacon. Why not simply whistle for a goblin raiding party or a hook hawk?"
"You're too big for a hook hawk and I doubt goblins would be brave enough to tackle you."
"So you won't sheath the sword?"
"I'd need a better reason. You might be trying to leave me defenseless."
"And you are beginning to irritate me," the swallit grumbled.
"It's not my intention, but you won't tell me what's going on."
The swallit looked back to the west, and clearly grew impatient.
"I wish to leave and I don't want you blazing a trail behind me. Is that so difficult for your delver mind?"
"No, but you still haven't explained any of it."
"And since when does a swallit need to answer to a delver?"
"You don't. You can go about your business and I'll go about mine."
"But you will continue to follow me?!"
"Only as long as you're close to Burbon. I have people to protect. You should understand that."
"I only understand that you might endanger me with that sword lighting up my path for anyone to follow."
"Is someone following you?"
"No, and I intend to keep it that way. Now be gone and realize I have nothing to gain by lying to you."
"Danger cuts both ways, my friend. You're running from something, that's pretty clear. You could be bringing danger to my home. Tell me what you're running from and if it makes sense, you can go your way."
The swallit lost its patience, unwilling to explain itself to the likes of a delver, even the delver who held the Sword of Decree. It dropped back down to all fours and charged Ryson Acumen, hoping to crash its massive head into the delver's midsection.
Ryson leapt away, but made no attempt to counterattack. He kept his sword held high and the blade away from the enraged monster. It was not his intent to harm the creature by design or by accident. The Sword of Decree could burn the soul with but a touch, and Ryson did not wish to inflict such pain. Still, the delver would not simply relent. A fleeing swallit in the early dark of night was a strange sight. The beast's unwillingness to explain itself was understandable, but only to a degree. In Ryson's curious mind, the mystery deepened with the swallit's attack.
"This isn't going to help," Ryson offered. "I know you're fleeing from something, just tell me what it is."
The swallit swung around, stood up once more, and brought its front legs together. It mouthed a few words and a yellow pentagon appeared at its hooves. The yellow energy then flew out from the creature and crashed across the blade of Ryson's sword.
Ryson now knew for a fact that swallits could indeed cast powerful spells.
The yellow magic appeared to turn to liquid as it bubbled down both sides of the blade. It brightened at first, then turned dark gray. As the energy encased the weapon in full, the light of the blade died away.
The display of power shocked the delver.
"What did you do?"
"What you would not. I doused the light. Now follow if you wish, but your sword will blaze no path for others to travel. You might as well sheath it."
Ryson looked at his weapon in shock. The blade could magnify the dimmest starlight on a cloudy night. Nothing ever before had brought darkness to this sword of light while Ryson stood upon open ground. He had held the sword aloft under the thickest clouds of terrible storms in the darkest of nights, and still the blade magnified what little light existed. For the first time out of its sheath and with a path to the open sky, the sword looked as dull as rusted iron.
The delver brought his hand to the blade. He tried to rub clean the magic energy, but to no avail. The gray covering could not be pushed away.
"You can't remove it," the swallit offered, displaying no pleasure in the effectiveness of its spell, "but do not agonize too much. The shadow that covers it will fade away in short time."
"You shouldn't have done that! I wasn't going to hurt you." Ryson declared.
"And you should have listened to me," the swallit shot back. "I asked if I had to answer a delver's quiz, and you said no. You should have left it at that, but you wouldn't relent. Your foolish curiosity got the better of you."
Ryson, at first, found anger in those words, believed he had done nothing wrong other than to ask the swallit its reasons for racing out of the forest. It was a harmless question, a reasonable request.
He could not, however, maintain that anger. Ultimately, he considered what he would have thought if their roles had been reversed. What if he had been traveling through the forest and happened to cross the swallit's territory? Did that give the swallit authority to question him, to perhaps impede his progress, or endanger him? It did not, and he would have used his abilities just as the swallit had used its own.
"You're right," the delver said, and he sheathed the sword. "I deserved that."
The swallit marveled at Ryson.
"You actually mean that, don't you?"
"You're not a threat to Burbon. You wouldn't get past the walls or the guard even if it was your intent to attack the town. I don't know why you're running, but that's your business."
"Then why didn't you just sheath the sword when I asked?"
"Because I want to know what would make a swallit flee. I still want to know, but threatening you isn't the way to find out. I would have hoped you would have told me."
"I owe nothing to you," the swallit grunted.
"No, you don't, and that's why I should have let you be. I'll try to figure out what you're running from in some other way."
The swallit almost appeared to grin.
"The stories of you, Ryson Acumen, seem to be true. You are a complex creature. It is not well to have you as an enemy, but you do not apparently make enemies without cause."
Ryson did not know exactly how to respond to such words. He simply nodded and turned his attention to the west as he dismissed the swallit.
"Well, I won't follow you now. Just remember that Burbon remains well guarded. Keep to your word and stay away from the town. I doubt anyone else will challenge you tonight."
The beast turned to leave, but paused. It swung its massive head back toward the delver one last time to offer its respect, if nothing else.
"I will return your honor with two favors. The first is that you should never trust what you see when yellow magic is cast. While it is very powerful in its own right, it is also the power of illusion. Light and shadow-one or the other, or both in concert-can be utilized to misdirect even the senses of a delver. Your blade still glows bright, but you believe the light to have been snuffed out."
Ryson looked over his shoulder at the hilt of the sword now sheathed across his back. He did not draw the blade out of respect for the honesty he was shown.