Tuesday, August 30, 2005

   Chapter 2: Future (part 4)
The room into which he had entered was the store room. It was not a small space, but it felt small due to the many high racks of swords that lined the walls. There was a sword of nearly every shape and color imaginable, and each was sharp and kept spotlessly clean.
There were four angels in the shop. One, with black and blue wings, was browsing through the racks in the left corner. Two brunette angel boys who looked to be in their late teens were marveling over a dagger on the display table in the center of the room. Pen navigated silently around them and went to the counter.
“Is Danesan in the back?” he asked the aging lady angel at the counter. She looked at him over the newspaper with brown, bespectacled eyes.
“Oh Pen, it’s you!” said a familiar voice from behind a curtain-covered doorway. “Come right in!”
The woman disappeared behind the news again. Pen stepped past the counter and went through the door.
He found himself in a smithy. To his left was a huge, steaming oven made of crystal that sent a flickering light throughout the whole room. On the wall opposite were still more swords; the newer or more valuable ones, or old swords that needed to be fixed.
“I just traded a new sword from a merchant coming from Goswen Port,” Danesan told him. Pen found him standing, as usual, among tools of the trade near the oven. He was a very muscular, brown-haired angel who never wore a shirt, but who never needed one because he spent the majority of his time in the smithy. “He said that a weaver had given it to him just before he left Murneske. Apparently she didn’t have a clue what to do with the thing. It needed a bit of fixing up, but it’s a very good blade.”
Danesan put down his hammer and went to the sword rack. He perused for only a second before he found the one he was looking for, lifting the sheathed sword down from one of the higher shelves.
“It didn’t even have a scabbard when I got it,” he said, pulling the sword out and letting his eyes run over the silver blade lovingly. “Come have a look.”
Pen came to the angel’s side and took the sword from him. “It’s very light,” he noted, feeling its balance in his hand.
“Yes,” Danesan agreed. “The blade is a work of art. It seems to be mostly platinum and nickel-iron in the center, so it’s very durable, but it also has some gold and silver in the skin, so it’ll be good with the use of magic. And thanks to that gold, it’s more likely to bend than scatter. It was a bit of a pain to work with, though.”
“The handle is really comfortable, too,” Pen said. He held it closer to the light so he could see it better. “Is that dragon wood?”
“Yes. Only the dragons have that kind of tough pine. I have to say, though, the handle is a bit on the small side for most adult hands.”
“Hmm.” Danesan could tell that he was impressed, even though it didn’t show on his face. The angel smiled knowledgably down at him for a moment, before returning to his workshop. Pen started to swing the sword, getting a feel for the power that only a good weapon could emit.

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