Elfborn

Unexpected Discovery

As Misha bustled in the back, Nona made small talk with the two young men, inquiring after their health and well being as well as telling them of Naneen. Unfortunately the young woman from Askant had made little progress since they had arrived at camp, still unconscious with fluid in her lungs. It took all of Nona's considerable skill with herbs and roots to keep her alive, her apprentices spoon feeding Naneen as often as the unconscious woman would swallow the paste of herbs, natural medicines and food. They got her to eat the paste by opening her mouth with a hand and placing the food far enough back in the throat that she would swallow automatically. Water was given to her the same way.

All in all the report left both Ollie and Max feeling down. They had hoped that Naneen would quickly regain consciousness under the tender mercies of Nona and her apprentices. But their worst fears were realized: her condition was far more serious than they had initially thought. Hopefully she would pull through. Both young men quickly said prayers in their hearts for her well-being. It seemed such a shame that she had managed to survive this long, only to fall ill just as they found somebody to take them in as friends and guests.

Both were still lost in their own somber thoughts when Misha finally reappeared, a long, slender cloth-wrapped bundle in his hands. Carefully placing it on the table, he unwrapped it with a practiced twist of his wrists. What was revealed instantly caught Max and Ollie's attention and pulled them from their thoughts.

"Bones and ash," Ollie breathed softly, his eyes wide with wonder. "What a sword!"

Indeed the sword, a two-handed long sword, was a weapon of beauty, crafted with fine workmanship, each centimeter detailed and finished. If a weapon of mayhem could be called a work of art, truly it was this weapon.

In it's basic design, this sword resembled any other the two had seen before, including the weapons used by the Dark Companions and the Dedicated in their brief but bloody skirmish in the courtyard of Lord Astor's fortress of darkness at Nor Avilon. It had a blade, a hand guard, a hilt and a pommel for counter balance. But that's where the resemblance ended.

The blade, honed to razor sharpness, was the beginning. It's blood groove, running three quarters the length for the blade, with its widest point being where it met the guard, was intricately etched with vines and leaves, each so detailed Max swore he could see the veins on the leaf surfaces. And so real that Ollie thought he could see the vines moving towards the lit lamp on the table. The intricate detail was breathtaking.

But it was only a prelude to the detail of the gold and silver-chased guard, a straight bar of what looked like pure gold wrapped by a filigree lacework of gold and silver also in the form of vines, like those etched into the blood groove. The intricate pattern was both delicate and vibrant, again seeming to be alive with its realism.

The hilt itself wasn't anything remarkable in comparison to the blade and guard, a leather and gold-wire wrapped handle that made it easy for two large hands to take hold of the sword without any trouble. The leather was punched with holes at regular intervals to be more absorbing to prevent the hilt from being slippery in the hands during the heat of battle, when the juices ran hot. From where they sat, the two young men could see that the leather was of the highest quality and looked supple and well cared for.

That left only the pommel, a thick ball of silver metal into which the maker had embedded an emerald that was easily the size of one of Max's eyes. It glittered with a cool green fire as the two young men stared at it, mesmerized by the craft that went into making such a thing.

"Amazing!" Max breathed, Ollie nodding his agreement. Misha smiled in excited satisfaction at seeing the two so taken with his first artifact.