“Go ahead and get him inside,” said Pitt. He picked up the knight's sword from where it had fallen on the ground. He waved the woman and boy to move out of his way. “How's it going, fellows?”

“You're a strange looking knight,” said one of the demons. It chuckled lightly behind it's beak. “Are you going to try to protect these others like your comrade.”

“I'm not a knight,” said Pitt. He smiled as he spun the borrowed sword in sharp curlicues with his fingers like a fake magician practicing with a coin for his slight of hand act. “I'm the cutter. I need a messenger. The rest of you can go somewhere else and bother those people.”

“There's seven of us,” said the spokesman. “Do you think you can kill all of us?”

“I've killed so many demons it's not even a challenge anymore,” said Pitt. “The only reason I picked up this blade was to extend my reach so I don't get your guts on me when you die. Which one of you wants to convey my message? Step to the left so you don't get killed by mistake. Any one of you who wants to live can walk away now before I get started. Anyone who wants to die can stand where you are, or come at me.”

Pitt glanced over his shoulder. The woman had the knight by the arm, and was half-carrying, half-dragging, him to the building behind them. It looked like an inn to the swordsman.

The seven demons rushed him. He had his attention on the humans behind him. His reflexes couldn't counter their mass and extended reach with their natural weapons.

Pitt turned and cut off the nearest arm that entered his reach. His sword had changed into blue lightning as he gripped it with his full hand. He shook his head at the monsters who ran at him still not realizing he had barely moved his own arm to dismember the other.

The six demons behind their leader tried to go around Pitt to kill the trio of humans that were helpless before them. Then they could surround the human fighter and take him apart.

Pitt swung his sword in a backhand to slice through the body of the one armed biped. It screamed as it vanished in a cloud of ash. He turned and took the next closest demon with the same swing.

The five remaining demons paused at the scream. They focused on the human as he strode toward them. They turned to face their fate, armored skin glittering in the blue light being cast on them.

“All I need is a messenger, and the rest of you can go,” said Pitt. “You don't have to keep fighting until you're done. Come back with a lot more of your friends so you have a better chance.”

The demons pulled back to talk amongst themselves in a huddle. They glanced at the cutter and his blue sword as he stood in the street. Occasionally he spun the sword with his fingers.

He looked bored rather than concerned they might try to rush him in a mass.

None of them wanted to rush him now that they knew some of his technique.

“Vorlas will be your messenger,” said the new spokesman. He indicated a mass of monkey arms around a ball of eyes. “He is the fastest of us.”

“The rest of you can go,” said Pitt. He waved his hand. “Just don't go in that direction.” He pointed back the way he came. “A bunch of clerics are doing banishments that way.”

“Thank you for your graciousness,” said the spokesman. He gestured at his three comrades to move down the street.

“Vorlas,” said Pitt. “This is the message I want you to take back to your summoner, and whomever is leading this. You ready?”

The ball of eyes blinked and did a half nod with its body.

“Tell them the cutter is in town, and will be coming to see them,” said Pitt. “I will be using this road, and there's nothing they can do to stop me. Any demon that gets in my way will be exterminated. Any demon who flees the city gets to live. You got the message?”

Vorlas nodded again.

“Take off,” said Pitt. “Don't let me see you again, or it's the chopper.”

The demon surged down the street, hands pulling it along on long arms. Some of its eyes were on Pitt to make sure he was serious about letting it go. It vanished in the blackness of the night.

Pitt shook his head. He doubted the other four had gone far. They probably wanted to try to deal with him after he had let his guard down. That would be a big mistake on their part.

Pitt went to the door where the woman and her son had dragged the knight. He knocked on the door.

“Who is it?,” said a shaky male voice. He didn't associate it with the knight. Maybe it was the owner of the place.

“Don't be stupid,” said Pitt. “Open the door. I just want to check on the three people I helped before I move on.”

The door cracked open to reveal rheumy eyes and a fluff of white hair. A hand held the coin symbol of Forn Ope, the God of Merchants.

“Do you mind?,” asked Pitt. “You're making me want to stab you in the face.”

The old man moved out of the way so Pitt could step inside. He hastily shut the door and threw the lock bar to keep the demons out. He hung the symbol on a hook on the door.

“How's he doing?,” asked Pitt. He indicated the knight.

“I can't tell,” said the woman. “He feels like he's burning up.”

“Any clerics here?,” asked Pitt. The place was a store and customers had been trapped by the arrival of the demons. If they had a cleric, the knight's injuries would be simple to fix. He didn't see anyone stepping forward. “Magicians?”

“I know some magic,” said the woman. “It's not much.”

“What do you know?,” asked Pitt. He placed the knight's sword on the floor near enough to grab if there was trouble.

“I know Warm Grip, Hundred Hands, and a few cooking spells,” said the woman. “I use them to run the inn down the street. The knight tried to protect us when the demons broke into the inn.”

“All right,” said Pitt. “Let's see what we can do about this until we can get a cleric here to look at this guy.”

He knelt and examined the knight's armor. The chest protection had been sliced through the side. Blood flowed from that wound. He didn't see anything else. So he only had to stop the bleeding from one open injury. He thought he could do that with what he had seen during his years of killing things.

He unbuckled the armor and pulled it away. He winced at the blood soaking the undershirt. He dropped the damaged plate as he decided his next step. He needed a better look at the injury. That meant getting rid of the shirt. He pulled a small knife and cut the cloth away. A long cut stretched down the side of the knight's ribs.

The edges of wound had been poisoned from the blackness of the flesh at the edge. He needed to do something about that before he tried to close the injury. It wouldn't do any good to close things up and stop the bleeding only to have the man die from poisoning.

“So you know Warm Grip?,” asked Pitt.

“Yes, I use it to warm food up when it's gotten cold because the guest waited too long to eat,” said the innkeeper.

“All right,” said Pitt. “What do you say to activate the spell?”

She sang a three note melody. He nodded.

“Sing your activation phrase and then sing this,” said Pitt. He said a two note tune. “Can you do that?”

“Yes, I think so,” said the innkeeper. She sang the five notes. Her hand caught fire. She stared at it.

“I need you to burn this black mass away,” said Pitt. “Come on. We don't have all day.”

She ran her fingers along the black streaks. Black smoke started filling the air. She leaned back, waving the other hand to fan the air.

“All right,” said Pitt. “I need a needle and some thread. Anyone have any?”

“You're in a shop,” said the innkeeper's boy. He hurried off and returned with a spool of thread and a needle.

“You have to pay for that,” said the old man.

“Put it on my tab,” said Pitt. “Watch the door. You don't want the demons coming back and ripping your heart out, do you?”

The old man made a strangled noise as he turned to look out through a crack on the wood covered window.

Pitt threaded the needle and started sewing the wound closed. He nodded when the innkeeper wiped the blood out of the way with a cloth. He worked as quickly as possible to close the injury. It only had to last until a cleric arrived and used healing prayers on the man.

He leaned back and inspected his handiwork. It looked good for the moment. The knight might have to switch his sword use in the future if he survived the night.

“I found some clothes we can use for bandages,” said the innkeeper's boy. “We just have to tear them into strips.”

“That's good thinking,” said Pitt. He ripped the shirts apart. He folded part of the new bandages over where he had sewn things shut. Then he used the rest as a wrapping. He tied the ends together.

“The demons are back,” said the shopkeeper. “They look angry.”

“You said you had Hundred Hands?,” asked Pitt.

The innkeeper nodded.

“All right, I'm going to show you how to use it to defend this building before I go,” said Pitt. “When you do your activation phrase, add these six notes to it at the end.”

He demonstrated the call for her. She practiced it several times.

“All right, call up the Hundred Hands,” said Pitt.

The innkeeper sang the twelve notes. Giant hands appeared around the store. The store owner looked amazed to Pitt. The cutter went to the door and opened it so he could step outside. He smiled as he crossed the threshold.

“Keep the door shut until the city gives you an all clear,” said Pitt. “Be seeing you.”

Pitt laughed as giant hands punched demons in a fusillade of spell working. He had thought it would be a great defense, but he had not thought the hands would attack like guard dogs.

He took the time to punch one of the demons in the leg so its head dropped where he could reach it. A second punch turned the head into a splash that led a cloud of ash into the air.

He walked down the street toward the summoning point. He wondered if he would have a clear path to the summoners. He hoped so. He didn't want to do a lot of fighting if he could cut the head off.

The city guards could finish killing the demons after everything had settled into a war of attrition with the demons. They wouldn't be able to win against an organized defense where clerics could wipe out demons with a prayer.

His part in things would be over as soon as Skaren had been separated from his head. Then he could go back to the highlands and his wandering. Roland the Cutter would be nothing more than a colorful legend told to keep kids on the straight path.

That was the way things should be. No one should walk in his footsteps.

He smiled as he saw a mass of darkness gathering ahead of him. He figured he would have a mass in front while they encircled him using the streets on either side of where he was walking.

It would bog him down until something heavy could be used to stop him. He was strong, but he knew there were ways to get around that strength. He could be hurt just like a normal man.

On the other hand, before he was dragged down, he would have killed more than a few of the demons who tried to get in his way. Exploding ash would cover that part of the city.

He wondered if the demons were scared yet. Some of them must remember him from the other times he had stopped surges and didn't kill all of his enemies.

He hoped so. It would make killing them that much easier if they were scared of him and ready to run when he went to work on them.

Dispersing them would help him, but it would make things harder for the knights and clerics trying to protect the civilians.

He cracked his knuckles as he walked along.