Sunrise Gate

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The town’s forge lies in the shadow of Hymir’s Statue, the God of Forge himself. Adam is our Forgemaster, has been for years, since the time my parents were tikes, possibly longer. His beard is grey, his head bald, his face sagging - he’s aged quite a bit. But he’s still a big, jolly man. Every other week I find myself in his presence, picking up my blade freshly sharpened. My father’s blade is good, a steel sword with an ebony hawk lined with gold for a hilt - the Guardian’s symbol; but it is high maintenance. Like its owner, I chuckle. Soon enough I’m across the square. Adam is waiting outside, as he always does.

“Well look who it is.” His cheery self, but a hint more. His smile is almost too wide, his eyes too excited.

“Quite the mood you’re in,” I say.

He is happy, I notice, “Who couldn’t be in this mood? The sun is rising, the dew is moist,” the old fellow does not conceal his excitement anymore, biting his lip, twisting around, “and a surprise.” I look to him puzzled, but he is too busy rummaging through a nearby pile to care. He pulls out a greatsword, hidden by a blanket.

“Is that my sword?”

“Yes,” he can barely hold still now. His energy screams child, but his appearance, an old oak.

“Last week you sharpened my blade and weren’t this excited.” I give him a suspicious eye. Adam is never this secretive, something special is brewing. “What are you hiding?”

He lays the large blade into my hands, “Look for yourself.” He whips the sheet away.

The blade feels lighter, like the steel has been gutted, but it is there, solid. Wasn’t the blade a lighter color? I think, It was. Now it is a deep, shining black. My eyes follow the shimmering down to the hilt. The hawk is not longer ebony black, but white. And the gold accents are red. “You replaced the blade.”

He contains his excitement now that the secret is out. He smiles, but is calm, “Yes I did.” He waits.

“And you changed the Hawk, it’s white and red.”

“Of course,” he nods, indicating that was obvious. “I did change the color, and the blade, exactly to your Father’s request.” Now Adam smiles, the last of his secrets laid out and open for my taking. He braces for my reaction.

“My Father? My Father died long ago, Adam. Be reasonable, what do you mean by his request?”

“Don’t forget who made that armor you’re wearin’ there and I won’t have to be reasonable, save answer your question.” He folds his arms, still smiling, but sinister. He will not lay all his cards on the table, not until he has seen enough of the show. That, and from the look he is giving me, I should know the answer.

Except I don’t know. My Father did not leave anything behind, nothing of the likes of a request. I stare into the sword, the black blade, What is it made of? Why did father want this? And the hilt, why white and red? I did not have to finish the sentence. I remember, “This was for my mother, wasn’t it.”

Adam breaks a howling laugh, “Coming back to you now? I would tell you more if you weren’t wearing the matching armor!” He is bent over, laughing uncontrollably.

Still a bit puzzled - a bit angry as well - I try to stay calm. Slowly I say, cautious of my tone, “So he wanted you to change the blade with the armor?”

“Yes.” He leans back up. “Yes.” He wipes a tear and pauses. “Yes.” A thought quickly calms himself: the fun is over. Sincerely, he speaks, “I don’t mean to make a fuss over this, when you’re my age you’ll quickly realize how easy you youngins’ forget.”