The Collector | 18+

【01】Lost and Found

WARNING: This story contains mature themes and strong language that may not be suitable for some readers.

"What on earth is that?" asked Henry, our resident restorer, lover of all things old.

Before us was the biggest, most uniquely shaped sword, we'd ever received at the museum. Not only was it huge and heavy, it was also full from the pommel to the point. Even more than that, it was in perfect shape, unbent and unbroken underneath a thick layer of dirt and rust. How had this survived Mr. McCaine's tractor?

"It's so much bigger than I thought it would be. The picture didn't do it justice," I replied.

"I've never seen anything like that before." His light-brown eyes traveled the length of the blade. "It's much bigger than any Viking sword ever found. It's got to be a two-handed blade, which means it should be five, six centuries older than the rest." His tone was uncertain.

"It can't be two-handed; look at the grip." I put my hands across the handle, as if to hold it. "You can barely fit two of my hands, much less two hands of whoever could wield this."

Seemingly just as confused as I was, Henry tried to make sense of this strange finding. Reaching for the grip, he tried to lift it single-handedly. He lasted five seconds, his arm trembling from the effort, before putting it back.

"Bloody hell, I can't imagine swinging this around—even with two hands."

Perplexed, we stood side by side as we studied it. I racked my brain, trying to understand what this could mean. The dirt on the blade seemed to match the dirt on the rest of the artifacts we'd found, so they probably came from the same field.

"Maybe it wasn't meant for war," Henry suggested.

"You mean it could be an ornamental weapon?"

"Possibly, yes. I mean, I've never seen a sword shaped like this."

He was right. The pommel, grip, and cross-guard most certainly drew from Viking inspiration, but the size itself didn't. The old Norse civilization usually favored weapons that required less metal—which was a valued resource—like axes and spears. The former was preferred because of its versatility; not only did it serve as an efficient weapon in battle, but it also turned into a handy tool around a camp or a settlement.

If the sword we had in front of us was indeed Viking, then it had belonged to someone particularly wealthy—someone who'd wanted to show off that they could afford this much metal on a single weapon, especially if it was purely ornamental, which wasn't a ludicrous theory. The Vikings had preferred weapons that were easier to wield, as they had relied on agility and speed to stand a chance in battle since they didn't wear armor like chain mail. A sword this size would have been difficult to swing, and it would have slowed the wielder down.

Maybe it was a king's trophy. Its value would be priceless, then.

I leaned closer to inspect more of the details, trying to picture what it had looked like all those centuries ago, before the years had altered its condition. The blade itself had an odd shape, with a prominent tip, which wasn't usual at all. And toward the cross-guard, right before what must have been the ricasso—the unsharpened bottom of the blade—the metal widened to form two pointy tips. Then it narrowed again.

A suspicion kindled in my gut as I absorbed the details of the artifact. I had a strange feeling that I'd already seen this design before. If this was really an ancient piece, and not some bad joke the sender, Annie McCaine, was pulling on us, then it was an invaluable, unique sword like no other. So why did I feel like I'd already seen it somewhere?

The realization struck me like a punch in the stomach. My heart dropped low, and my eyes widened with shock. How had I not recognized it sooner?

"Oh my God." My hand flew to Henry's arm.