Mighty Sword – from the_vulture’s prompt – Old!Reiassan

From the_vulture‘s prompt – “An intelligent and mighty enchanted sword… that’s afraid of the dark.”

Old!Reiassan (pre-Rin and Girey by at least a war). I’ve written half a short story involving Lyuda and never posted it.

Cardon had gotten the sword for her. In retrospect, she should have suspected something right away, but he generally made sure his fighters were well-equipped; the business rode on their well-being and capability to finish missions.

And on the surface, it was a nice sword. It was etched all over in enchantments, some of them so old neither Lyuda nor her scholar friends could read the language. It held an edge no matter what, cut through just about anything, and never got too heavy. Attuned to her through a ritual that, for síra-flingers and priests, was blessedly short, it would never cut her, although it had once cut her greave in half when she’d misjudged a swing. On a mission, it was a perfect sword.

Until the first nightfall she camped in the [Dark] Forest Valley, and the sword, sheathed at her side, began talking to her.

Complaining, really. It sounded like an old soldier whose teeth had gone, querulous. At first, she thought someone was playing a trick on her, a village kid or a vagabond.

“A forest? Really? Who camps in a forest? Barely a ground cloth and a blanket to your name – what sort of mercenary are you?”

She’d been on the road for two weeks, and her riding goat and remount weren’t much conversation. If someone in the woods wanted to talk to her, she’d talk back.

“A sensible one. The nearest inn is another four hours’ ride away.”

“And what kind of country doesn’t have inns on the road, I ask you that?” The voice had a strange drawl to it, when you got over the whine.

“And who’s asking?” She couldn’t place the accent; it sounded almost Bitrani, but old-fashioned.

“I am. Adsplodea. Your sword, you uncivilized lout.”

“My sword.” She was less surprised than she perhaps should have been; Cardon had gotten the thing for her. “Okay. So what’s wrong with the woods? It’s a clear night, beautiful, warm…”

“Dark.” The weapon nearly hissed it. “It’s dark in here, lout. I can’t stand the dark.”

Lyuda swallowed a laugh. She needed this sword, damnit. “Come share the fire with me, Adsplodea. There’s plenty of light by its warmth.” She unsheathed the weapon and lay it over her knees; the bladed shimmered, and sighed. Yep, it was definitely the blade speaking.

“Perhaps you are not a complete lout.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/79438.html. You can comment here or there.

12 thoughts on “Mighty Sword – from the_vulture’s prompt – Old!Reiassan

  1. I guess magic swords here don’t come with “glowing” as a default property, if this one is afraid of the dark. Was it someone/something else before it was a sword, I wonder?

    • No glowing as a default, no. 🙂 I pondered having it have been a priest/ess of the sect that deals with blood and iron and fire, but I’m not sure the spirits in this world work like that. So I think it just got invested with enough magic to become self-aware: magical artifact Turing test?

  2. *chuckle* The prompt came from a tale told around the gaming table of a player who had obtained a mighty blade that was deathly afraid of the dark, such that, when sheathed, it would cry, holler and plead to be drawn again. I’ve known some twisted GMs. XD

  3. Ah, and this is why The Tough Guide to Fantasyland advises against magic swords (it notes that talking ones tend not to be worth it). This one seems better than most…

    • Reiassan in this era is a harshly practical place; a sword that wasn’t worth its weight would not have stuck around long.

  4. Going over old posts I ran across this one and now what I’m reminded of is the magic sword in The Familiar of Zero/Zero no Tsukaima. A sword which is lecherous, rude, and being very old has memory issues. “Ooh that almost reminds me of something. I’m pretty sure it’s important… nope not remembering it.”

Leave a Reply to kelkyag Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *