Experimental Short: His Magic Sword

The Sword of the Storm, it's lightning blue blade and infinitely sharp edge, was sought after by many. Though it was Janus who finally found it.

He followed the stories of how the Lightning Lord strode amongst the armies of man and won a war with his sword; where he was wounded and then healed in a native tribal village; how he struck down his four magical foes, enchanted sword over his shoulder. How, when the world was aflame for the second time, he walked in to the city of his birth, where inhuman creatures then dwelt, and laid waste to the horrors there. The blue blade was red with blood, crackling with magical power, calling down storms from the sky, scorching the enemy and crumbling them.

Janus knew of the magic sword and how it granted power to the man who wielded it. And he found it last in the Second City, where the Lightning Lord eventually lost it, presumably losing his great powers too.

It was with this power that Janus would raise himself up, become a leader of men and societies. With the power of the storm at his disposal, Janus would be the Lightning Lord come again!

He raised the blade up, it's shimmering blue metal having held against the tortures of time. No rust, no scratches, no chips or dull edge. It was as if this sword was polished only moments before. The hilt was rotten, the wood and leather mingled with damp and mould, hard to tell either apart, but this was repairable. It was otherwise beautiful, like starring into a storm itself, blue sky losing itself to dark swirling cloud and then... Light flickers, blue and purple forks flash and fade. He could almost feel the power. Almost.

Janus, like every other man who had finally found this sword before him, found that it had no power at all. It was a wonderfully crafted weapon, the greatest. Yet no magic could be found within it. Stories were stories, and over time they grew and were embellished. Maybe even changed to suit the status-quo, that no man could perform such feats where other men could not. It took a magical sword to do so. Only no. The Lightning Lord wielded this blade with such skill and power that in the eyes and ears and minds and the history of men, it was magic, and his deeds were magic.

Janus let slip the blade from his hand where it struck the stone floor of the ancient underground and rang out with such high music. He walked away as the song echoed behind him, in the knowledge that like those who would follow him, he would never match that Lord of Lords, that Warrior of Warriors.