Murdersword
I read a prompt somewhere on Tumblr that was basically “what if ART was a dragon and Murderbot was a magic sword”. If I find it again, I’ll link to it. But it got me thinking and I guess this came out. Part I.
Part II | Part III
We found the sword in the ruins of what had once been a transit station.
Or perhaps, it found us.
Sand trickled in from a hole in the domed roof of what had once been a stone-and-clay building. Dust motes hung suspended in the pale sunlight that penetrated the station's gloom. Rocks, glass, and debris crunched under our feet. The scent of decay permeated the air, not thick but still unmistakable.
Martyn theorized that projectile weapons had caused most of the damage to the structure. The others debated it with him. I didn't care what brought down the station. All that mattered now was how badly it had been ransacked before our arrival and whether we'd find anything useful down here.
Sweat dripped down my back from the punishing heat. I wanted to go home.
The sword lay obscured by a piece of a stone wall that had fallen long before our arrival. I caught the glint of shiny metal, followed it, stopped in front of a mural I couldn't interpret. The weapon's metallic hint reflected the light.
I picked it up with both hands, took care not to disturb the embossed, leather hilt. I could feel the magic pulsing within, something dark and sinister that made me shiver despite the heat. I had a sudden urge to wash my hands.
"What is it?" Kaede asked.
"A sword. There's something... wrong with it."
"Show it to Peri," she confirmed what I'd already been thinking.
From the other side of the receiving platform, Martyn gestured for us to hurry up. It was late afternoon and unbearably hot, but the desert would turn cold and dangerous as soon as the sun set. And we had to be gone by then.
So we'd found nothing but ruins, a few coins, and a magic sword that we probably should've left behind. Not the haul any of us were hoping for.
***
I placed the sword in front of the dragon. It hummed thoughtfully at me. "Looks like a curse."
"Around here?"
That was surprising. Peri had carried us and the sword to a nearby oasis of sorts, a watering hole practically hidden in the crook of a stone crag. Martyn had gathered some dead twigs -- goddess only knew where he found them -- and the dragon set them on fire for us. So, we weren't cold. I was still shivering, still felt the chill of dark magic on my skin.
"The sword's probably not from around here," the dragon pointed out.
Dad frowned at that. "It's a long way from home then."
"Can you break the curse?"
"Iris!" Dad frowned at me. "Curses are dangerous things. Trying to break one might put Peri in danger."
The sword vibrated as if it, too, was shivering. Maybe it didn't like the dark magic any more than I did. And it had been wrapped in it so much longer. My heart skipped a beat at the horrifying thought.
The dragon hummed again. "Step back."
"Peri, don't put yourself in danger."
Not that the dragon ever listened to us. Well, sometimes, when it agreed with us. For a creature far more immense than humans and with a far longer lifespan, sometimes it acted as recklessly as any teenager. Seth would scold it occasionally; this never helped, but it made Dad feel better.
Peri breathed fire on the sword while we stood at a safe distance and watched. Dragons are made of magic. They breathe magic. It's in their blood and bones. Instead of breaking the curse, Peri wiped it away with sheer, brute force. I felt the darkness dissipate, or at least, it slithered away from the weapon.
The sword shimmered, surrounded in a strange, ethereal glow. Dad put his arm on my shoulder to keep me from getting any closer. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't an idiot and wouldn't put myself into that kind of danger, but the reassuring touch felt good. I leaned into my father's side instead.
Martyn joined us, took Dad's hand. "What happened?"
"Peri's playing with fire," Seth answered.
Dad and Second Dad were like that, easy partners in crime, often on the same page. At least about me and the dragon. They argued about other things.
The shimmering finally died down, and the sword changed shape, became a spirit that had a more human form. Strange, glowing blue eyes looked between us and the dragon.
"There, isn't that better," said the dragon.
The sword spirit glared at Peri for a moment before staring off into space. "Fuck you."
Not what I was expecting. Gently, I pulled away from my parent and took a few cautious steps toward the spirit. It was sitting down on the ground where the sword had been, the sand underneath slightly blackened from the dragon's breath. It was wrapped in a blanket about the same color as the sword's scabbard; golden-green sigils flowed across the mauve material like water sliding down smooth stone. Those strange eyes focused on me.
"Don't get any closer."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Just don't," it growled.
Peri hissed. "Because of the curse? It's gone now. Wiped away."
"You don't know that. You don't know anything," said the spirit.
"Do you have a name?" I tried to make my voice soft and soothing, but it came out a squeak.
"Sword." The spirit focused on the dragon."What you did was reckless and stupid. That was dark magic. It could've backfired. It could've done this to you."
"See, even the weapon has more sense than you, Peri," Dad grumbled.
"Done what?" I asked.
Peri shook its head, and the sword ignored my question entirely. For that matter, the spirit refused to speak anymore for the rest of the night. It lay down where it had been sitting a moment ago and closed its eyes. I heard its soft humming a few minutes later, just as Kaede and the others got food started in the firepit. It could carry a tune, apparently.