Hey guys, I don't normally do this but I'd just like to credit "thearchangel02" for the creation of Jet Ivory. Thanks for bailing me out of writer's block. Looking forward to maybe adding more of your guys' OCs in the future. Anyway, on with the chapter.

Golden thorns chapter thirty four

What? Wait, WHAT!? Jet ivory. This was the guy that asked out Marie? His eyes locked with the older boy's. He was an inch or two taller than Coran, and had a large duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

"Um, hey guy? Hey, are you okay?" Jet was speaking to him. He realised that he had been staring at him without speaking. Idiot. He felt a sharp jab in his side from a scaled elbow and Devlyn leaned passed him. "Sorry about tall, dark and inarticulate over here. The names Dev."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah sorry." Coran held out his hand. "Coran Silverthorne." Jet took his hand and shook "might you be the same Jet ivory that is going to the dance with Marie d'Or?"

"Uh… yeah" he seemed to brighten at the recognition, then become sheepish again "that's not going to be an issue is it?"

"No, I was just wondering. We're her teammates, that's all."

"Okay, cool." His face seemed to relax a bit. Then he gestured to the bag slung over his shoulder, "Hey, I've gotta go deal with this kit but I'll see you at the dance tomorrow yeah?"

"Yeah, sure." Coran smiled politely as Jet jogged away

"He seems nice." Devlyn said brightly.

"Huh? Yeah." Devlyn looked at Coran warily

"You're not gonna murder him are you, Cor?"

"Why would I do that?" Coran answered passively.

"Come on lord of denial, we have stuff to do." He replied with a smirk. Coran sighed and pulled the door open further, revealing the forge.

The room was in absolute darkness, except for the soft red light emanating from the furnace in the far right corner. A few iron chains hung from the heavy oak beams that ran horizontally across the ceiling, clinking slowly in the draught from the open door. Around the walls stood tables decorated with a mismatch of blades, bolts, cogs, plate armour and shell casings. On a small rack near the furnace hung a vast collection of hammers of all shapes and sizes. In the centre of the room was a great anvil, the size of which dwarfed all other objects in the room. Stood behind it was a giant of a man. Standing seven foot six inches tall with enormous shoulders that were barely contained in a dull, grimy shirt the colour of dried blood. Over this was hung a thick, scratched, burned leather apron. In his hands he held a hammer the size of a man's skull and a pair of tongs gripped around the hilt of a sword. The hammer fell. Sparks showered down around the anvil, extinguishing on the dry dirt floor. The man looked up revealing a dark skinned face, bald head and large bushy goatee. His voice rumbled like an earthquake.

"Ah Mr Silverthorne, back on your feet I see. And Mr Lazarus, welcome back."

"Hey sir, just here to pick up our stuff. If it's ready that is…" Devlyn said, his voice trailing off as the blacksmith stepped away from the anvil and, laying down his tools, loomed over the two students, deep-set eyes glowering from under bushy eyebrows. The voice like cold granite spoke again

"What makes you think that you need to call me sir? I've told you kids before that you can call me firebrand. Honestly, I'm not a teacher. I just work here." And a hint of a half-smile creased the corner of his mouth reminding Coran of cracks in a cliff

"Um right." Coran mustered his courage. Firebrand was a generous and kind man but his appearance was still intimidating. "So have you finished the repairs?"

"On the table on your left you'll find your weapons fine-tuned and razor sharp. The charge packs are in the crate beneath the table. I can't imagine that you'll need more than four."

"Cheers." Dev said as he went over and rummaged around in the pile of metal. Firebrand went back to the furnace and heaved on the bellows. A bright glow shone from the furnace and the room was lit a little brighter, revealing a gigantic Warhammer, hung on the wall with two iron spikes, its square head a dull black steal. The boys took the hint and left the shadow bound forge.