something?”
Arran grunted and tapped the hilt of his Sacred Blade.
“Cool.” He hesitated. “Can…can I see it?”
The door slid open, revealing the lobby of the Sears Tower. “When we’re outside.” He looked at the people walking through the lobby. Many of the men were fat and looked unused to toil or hunger. The women had a sleek, haughty look in their gray skirts and coats, but Arran suspected they would run screaming at the sight of a bared weapon. “I doubt this crowd would react well if I drew a blade in their midst.”
Robert laughed. “You can say that again.”
They walked outside. “More people than before.”
Robert shrugged. “It’s five o’clock. Everyone’s probably going home from work.”
Arran saw a bench by the curb. “Let’s sit there. I can have something to eat and you can see a Sacred Blade.”
They sat. Arran rubbed his leg, some of the ache fading.
Robert looked curious. “So you going to show me it or not?”
“Of course.” He drew the Sacred Blade, the steel flashing crimson in the sunlight. A few passers-by gave him strange looks.
“Wow,” said Robert. “I’ve never seen a real sword before.”
Arran flipped the hilt to face him. “Here. You can hold it, if you wish. Take care, though…it will likely be very heavy.”
Robert snorted. “It doesn’t look that heavy.” He grasped the hilt. His eyes widened and the tip of the blade bobbed towards the ground. “It…is heavy. What’s this made of? Lead?”
“No.” Arran rummaged through his pack and pulled out a piece of jerky. “It’s part of the way the blade was fashioned. It will only feel light and balanced in the hands of a Knight. And a Knight can only wield one Sacred Blade at time.” He thought of Sir Liam. “Well, usually.”
“Why do you have two?” said Robert, the sword wavering in his hands.
“Two?” Arran touched Luthar’s sword, still slung over his shoulder after all these miles. He had forgotten about it. “This was my brother’s. He was…killed in a battle a long time ago, right in front of me. I couldn’t leave his sword for our enemies, so I took it with me. I’ve had it with me ever since.
Robert’s eyes got wide. “So you’ve killed people with this?”
Arran took a bite of jerky. “More than I can remember.”
“Why is the blade all red?” said Robert. He touched it with a tentative finger. “Is…is that blood?”
“Yes,” said Arran. “The woman I told you of earlier?” Robert nodded. “It’s hers.”
Robert’s face screwed with revulsion. “You killed her?”
“No.” Arran shook his head. “No. When she was killed, I dipped the sword in her blood. I used it to slayer her killer. But the stain of the blood stayed. I suppose it serves as a reminder.” He considered telling Robert of the white magic and decided against it. The people of Earth seemed to have no Wizards or Warlocks. He looked up at the towering skyscrapers.
They didn’t need Wizards. Their machines could do things no Wizard could ever do.
Robert handed back the sword. “That’s sad.” Arran slid the sword back into its scabbard. “Dude. What is that stuff you are eating?”
“This?” He swallowed. “Jerky. I think it’s beef. Or possibly pork. After a few months, it’s hard to tell.”
Robert lips twisted up. “That is disgusting.”
Arran took another bite. “Not really, if the choice is between old jerky and starvation.”
Robert hopped to his feet. “That looks like it was made from a cow’s butt.”
Arran eyed the jerky. “It most likely was.”
“Hang on for a minute,” said Robert. He pointed at a shop across the street, its windows marked with the sigil of a golden arch. “I’ll get us some food better than that stuff.” He jogged into the street.
Arran sat up straighter. “Watch where you’re going!” Robert dodged the jeeps with deft speed and crossed the street. Arran grumbled and gnawed at the jerky, trying to
Arran grunted and tapped the hilt of his Sacred Blade.
“Cool.” He hesitated. “Can…can I see it?”
The door slid open, revealing the lobby of the Sears Tower. “When we’re outside.” He looked at the people walking through the lobby. Many of the men were fat and looked unused to toil or hunger. The women had a sleek, haughty look in their gray skirts and coats, but Arran suspected they would run screaming at the sight of a bared weapon. “I doubt this crowd would react well if I drew a blade in their midst.”
Robert laughed. “You can say that again.”
They walked outside. “More people than before.”
Robert shrugged. “It’s five o’clock. Everyone’s probably going home from work.”
Arran saw a bench by the curb. “Let’s sit there. I can have something to eat and you can see a Sacred Blade.”
They sat. Arran rubbed his leg, some of the ache fading.
Robert looked curious. “So you going to show me it or not?”
“Of course.” He drew the Sacred Blade, the steel flashing crimson in the sunlight. A few passers-by gave him strange looks.
“Wow,” said Robert. “I’ve never seen a real sword before.”
Arran flipped the hilt to face him. “Here. You can hold it, if you wish. Take care, though…it will likely be very heavy.”
Robert snorted. “It doesn’t look that heavy.” He grasped the hilt. His eyes widened and the tip of the blade bobbed towards the ground. “It…is heavy. What’s this made of? Lead?”
“No.” Arran rummaged through his pack and pulled out a piece of jerky. “It’s part of the way the blade was fashioned. It will only feel light and balanced in the hands of a Knight. And a Knight can only wield one Sacred Blade at time.” He thought of Sir Liam. “Well, usually.”
“Why do you have two?” said Robert, the sword wavering in his hands.
“Two?” Arran touched Luthar’s sword, still slung over his shoulder after all these miles. He had forgotten about it. “This was my brother’s. He was…killed in a battle a long time ago, right in front of me. I couldn’t leave his sword for our enemies, so I took it with me. I’ve had it with me ever since.
Robert’s eyes got wide. “So you’ve killed people with this?”
Arran took a bite of jerky. “More than I can remember.”
“Why is the blade all red?” said Robert. He touched it with a tentative finger. “Is…is that blood?”
“Yes,” said Arran. “The woman I told you of earlier?” Robert nodded. “It’s hers.”
Robert’s face screwed with revulsion. “You killed her?”
“No.” Arran shook his head. “No. When she was killed, I dipped the sword in her blood. I used it to slayer her killer. But the stain of the blood stayed. I suppose it serves as a reminder.” He considered telling Robert of the white magic and decided against it. The people of Earth seemed to have no Wizards or Warlocks. He looked up at the towering skyscrapers.
They didn’t need Wizards. Their machines could do things no Wizard could ever do.
Robert handed back the sword. “That’s sad.” Arran slid the sword back into its scabbard. “Dude. What is that stuff you are eating?”
“This?” He swallowed. “Jerky. I think it’s beef. Or possibly pork. After a few months, it’s hard to tell.”
Robert lips twisted up. “That is disgusting.”
Arran took another bite. “Not really, if the choice is between old jerky and starvation.”
Robert hopped to his feet. “That looks like it was made from a cow’s butt.”
Arran eyed the jerky. “It most likely was.”
“Hang on for a minute,” said Robert. He pointed at a shop across the street, its windows marked with the sigil of a golden arch. “I’ll get us some food better than that stuff.” He jogged into the street.
Arran sat up straighter. “Watch where you’re going!” Robert dodged the jeeps with deft speed and crossed the street. Arran grumbled and gnawed at the jerky, trying to
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