Ellianora tried everything she could think of, she pushed, she twisted, added other symbols in different orders, she ranted and screamed as she pushed the limits of her power. No matter what she tried the symbol seemed unaffected. She couldn’t make it do anything. What word is it? What does it represent? What am I missing?
She plopped herself down atop the hill, the charred, burned, frozen, and stoney remains of her efforts strewn about the once picturesque locale. She swept her eyes around at the damage and leaned back, still considering the strange three-dimensional shape floating in the middle of it all. It’s almost like it doesn’t want to be discovered…. Or maybe it's hiding its meaning. Mystery maybe? Stealth? Obscure? She pressed her hands to her head and groaned, shifting to lay on her back. The empty blue sky above remained devoid of any hints and the gentle breeze whispered…. nothing. Nothing of course, because why would it? IT’S THE WIND! She clenched her jaw, threw her fists in the air, and screamed. She shouted to the world at the trees, anything that didn’t run from her frustration. She could feel it, at the tip of her tongue, in her stomach, at the back of her mind. But she just couldn’t reach it. It's right THERE! What is it? It feels familiar, yet distant like I should know it but haven’t noticed something obvious.
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Markus gently swung the blade under the window, he spoke its name, and even let go of it (over his bed so it didn’t disturb anyone) and it just fell and landed as anyone could've predicted. From her bed on the other side of the room Ellianora rolled over and mumbled in her sleep “…something obvious…”
Markus winced, worried he’d awoken her, but she eventually settled back into a comfortable pose and her breathing slowed once more. Letting out a bit of tension from his stance, he tried something else. He slid the blade back in the sheath and closed his eyes. He felt the way the world around him moved. The sword’s gentle thrum slowed, and he felt the strange motion move into the sheath. It flowed along the silver filigree, the wisteria branch pattern feeling uncannily like veins. They gently shuddered as if drawing breath and slowly, gently thumping… alive.
Markus’ eyes snapped open and he drew the blade in time with his breath, letting it bathe in the moonlight once more. The blade and scabbard alike both singing in a barely audible chime-like duet. Another breath in and out, Markus slowly moved the blade, drawing it back by his waist as if to jab forward. It was instinct, knowledge that required no understanding, an act with no effort.
His left hand drew two fingers up from where his right hand gripped the handle. The fingers ran along the spine of the blade until they pressed on the carved impression of its name. The moonlight within the letters coated his fingers as he passed them over in a trance-like state. He pulled the silvery light and the blade followed. As he drew his fingers toward the tip it seemed to be pulled under his motion and the sword stretched as its handle lengthened. With a flourish he brought the now one-and-half-handed long sword to a rested position, a massive grin splitting his face.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
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Ellianora rubbed her eyes and gave a slow lethargic yawn. Groaning a bit, she debated sleeping in since this was the first real bed she’d had in months. Eventually, though her desire to accomplish things today outweighed her willingness to indulge in a real feather mattress and she lifted her face off the pillow it had been buried in.
The bed on the other side of the room was empty and its sheets were left askance, but a large backpack remained by its foot, packed and ready to depart. Ellianora’s half-open eyes fought a losing battle against the bright sun that poured through wide-open curtains. Bright. Midday. Sun.
Groaning even longer than before, she let her face hide back in the pillow a moment before pushing herself out of bed and beginning her morning routine.
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Making her way down the stairs into the front room of the inn whereupon she inquired about her missing assistant. The inn had a small backyard area which housed an outhouse, a well, and a single wooden table with benches. She found Markus standing in the empty area, swinging an impressive-looking… well she wasn’t sure what to call it. It looked like a full-length single-edged sword sitting on the end of a four-foot-long pole. The entire item was made of solid silver or rather a silver-like material, since if it was actually solid metal he definitely wouldn’t be able to swing it with the flamboyance he was displaying.
With a yawn, she sat on the bench, set down her breakfast, and ate as she watched him turn a large firewood log into splinters over the course of an hour.
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After some time, Markus finally stopped swinging his blade stick around and came over to sit across from her.
“Good to see you finally up and about.” He smirked, “How’d you sleep?”
“Ugh, I think I need to stop sleeping on boats.”
“Well, there isn’t much left for us to do today, the caravan doesn’t leave ‘till tomorrow. So, we have the rest of the day to do as we please.”
Ellianora thought about it for a bit, trying to come up with anything that still needed to be done. Coming up empty she agreed. “There were some scenic places around that might be worth visiting. The Lighthouse Ridge might be a nice walk, also there’s apparently a park somewhere nearby.”
With an affirmative nod, Markus got up from his seat. “Seems like it’s settled then. Let’s get to it.”
As she joined him and started thinking of other places they should go, she noticed Markus was bringing the… Glaive? Naginata? Sword-on-a-stick?
“Are you going to be carrying that thing around with you? It seems a bit cumbersome for a walk around town.” she indicated the item in question.
“Hm? Oh, it's fine. Watch this.” Markus moved away a few steps to give himself some space. Bringing the glaive into a stabbing position, he ran his fingers along the thick side of the blade. Ellianora stared in awe as he pulled at the weapon, silver light shaping it and altering it until it had become a short sword that fit snugly in the empty sheath on his waist.
Finally flourishing the blade and stowing it he turned to look at her with a proud look on his face, “So? What do ya think? This’ll work out yeah?”
Her mind finally processing what she had seen there was only one real reasonable, response;
“WHAT THE F-“