N. Erebus

The Cursed Sword

In a weapon store illuminated only by the sun outside and just a few candles hanging on the walls, the always smiling store owner greets a party of three that has just entered the store.

“Welcome, welcome! Make yourself at home. But don’t be too comfortable, things aren’t free.” He says gesturing to his merchandise.

“What are you guys getting? I don’t think there’s anything for me here.” Asks Mirah, the elf mage.

“A bow.” Says Keth, the quiet rogue in the back.

“A bow? You can’t use a bow, can you?” Says Terrick, the leader of the party.

“I am willing to learn. Besides, We’ve been too reliant on Mirah. What if she’s unable to cast her spells?”

“Easy, I’ll protect her.”

“That’s not the point, but I like your enthusiasm.”

“I agree…” Mirah says, slightly embarrassed.

“Well, you do what you think is best. You are our brain after all”. Terrick spots a display case. It’s not unlike the others, but he’s compelled to walk to it.

“You know those stories where the blade chooses their wielders? I think this one chose me.” He grabs the sword and gives a few swings. “I’m taking it.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”. Mirah grabs the sword herself, and struggles a little with the weight. She holds it upside down to inspect the handle.

“Why?”

Keth approaches holding a hunting bow and a quiver. “Oh, a dark blade. These things are hard to come by.”

“I think it’s cursed.” Mirah adds.

“Cursed?! This isn’t cursed! Is this sword cursed, mister?”

“No.” The store owner responds still smiling.

“See?”

“Just look at it! There’s a skull on the pommel!” Mirah brings the pommel to Terrick’s face.

“That could mean anything. I bet it’s a stylistic choice.” Terrick grabs the sword back, and as he does, the mood shifts.

The light are sucked out of the sky, and the world outside turns into nothingness. The flames on the candles hanging on the walls begin to dance in anticipation. The distant sound of footsteps travel through the air and into their frightened ears, closer and closer, until it reaches the front door.

“Welcome, welcome!” The store owner hides behind the counter. “Make yourself at home. But don’t be too comfortable, things aren’t free.”

“I don’t think he’s a client.” Terrick hides the sword behind his back.

The door opens by itself revealing a slender hooded man. His head almost hits the tall ceiling when he enters. He looks around for a long moment, taking special interest on the collection of swords. Mirah slowly moves behind. The figure takes notice of her staff and whispers something no one can hear. Pulling off his hood, he reveals his skeleton face.

“My sword… It’s here…”

“It’s a warlock, Terrick. Give the sword to him…” Mirah whispers.

“Not a chance. Can’t you use one of your spells?”

Mirah does a gesture with her hands, but nothing happens.

“I can’t”

“Why?”

“I think he’s blocking my magic.”

“He can do that? How’s that fair? Is there anything you can do?”

“Not while he’s holding the spell. I need a distraction.”

“Well, stay behind me then.” He looks around. “Where is Keth?”

“I’ll kill every one here if I don’t get my sword back.” The warlock turns towards the two. “You!” Mirah gets closer to Terrick. “What are the two of you whispering about? You wouldn’t happen to have my sword, would you?” Terrick shakes his head. The warlock laughs. “What’s that behind your back, then?”

Terrick turns his head to look at the sword, but the frightened face of his friend catches his eyes first. She does her best to hide it, but he sees right through her. Still hiding the sword, he sighs, taking a step forward, then another, until he is face to face with the tall skeleton. He raises his head, and looks deep into the warlock’s eyes.

“This is a weapon store, mate. If you want a sword, you’ll have to pay like all others.”

The skeleton is furious. “Don’t you dare mock me!” He shouts raising his hand and holding the air in front of him. Terrick floats and chokes, but refuses to drop the sword. As his face turns blue, all Mirah can do is watch.

With teary eyes, she holds her staff in front of her, but the skeleton instantly turns his head towards her, and, using the few muscles left on his face, grins maliciously. Mirah shuts her eyes. “Keth, where are you?” She mumbles to herself.

It’s when all hope seem lost that she hears the sound of an arrow flying. She opens her eyes, and sees the warlock looking out of the window, then to a pile of wooden boxes that weren’t there before. This is the opportunity she was waiting for.

While the skeleton is distracted looking for the shooter, the elf girl quickly aims the staff, and whispers. A small pebble comes out of the tip of the staff, growing larger and larger as it flies out, turning into a small boulder. It hits the skeleton on his head, breaking his neck. He cracks it back into place. The spell did some damage, but not enough. But, it was enough to make him release Terrick, who stood ready with the sword in his hands.

Terrick lunges. The sword makes contact with the warlock’s sternum, going through without any resistance. They both look equally confused. The momentum makes them both fall. The skeleton, shocked, looks at Terrick and opens his jaw to speak.

“I misjudged you… You are… Worthy… My sword is yours.”

The light comes back to the sky and back into the room, illuminating the skeleton as it turns to dust. Covered with the remains of his opponent, Terrick stands up victorious.

“We did it! We actually did it! I can’t believe it.” Mirah runs up to Terrick and gives him a big hug. “Oh…” And accidentally covers herself with the dust.

“Sorry about that.” Terrick says.

“That was reckless. Why did you do that?” She punches him on the shoulder.

“Ouch! Because I trusted you, like I always do. That and I wanted to keep the sword.”

Keth comes out of hiding and walks up to them. “Huh, guess I need more practice. I’m not joining on the group hug this time, I rather remain clean, but you have my praise. That was impressive. Especially you, Mirah.”

“I assume the curse is lifted then. Ugh, I hope I get a discount.” Terrick says looking at his weapon.

They catch their breath and walk to the counter. The store owner comes out of hiding. “Is he finally gone? Truly Gone?”

“I would hope so, he turned to dust. Sorry about the mess, by the way.” Terrick responds.

“And did I hear that right? He called you worthy, didn’t he?”

“Well, yes. He saw how skilled I am. Though I don’t like to brag.” He says braggingly.

“Then, I have something for you.” he pulls out a large wooden box and opens it. There’s a plain looking sword inside it.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a sword. A cursed sword. Only the one deemed worthy by its previous owner can wield it, and since he called you worthy, you can have it.”

“But…”

“I never expected him to actually come back for it. Especially after being dead for over 20 years.”

“But… What about this one?”

“This one?” He inspects the dark blade. “This is just a ceremonial sword. It’s useless for fighting. I’ve been trying to get rid of it for a long time, but everyone assumes that it’s cursed. You can have it as well if you want.” He hands the sword back.

“But there’s a skull on the pommel!” Terrick exclaims. Mirah raises her eyebrow.

“It’s a stylistic choice.”

“Of course it is.”