The anvil rested in the center of the forge. It was an altar, the center of the four compass points. To the south lay a metal ingot, a small step for the man who stood there. He spoke in a voice that rumbled like a rockslide.
"Always begin with the earth." Kruger intoned, the ritual was begun. "Mazi sebasmos ego diamartyromai esy s"ma apo gi este agorazo ide ktirio." He said in the language of stone. The ingot vibrated in response.
Kruger bowed at the vibration, though he could not see what was there. He had been told more than once by those whose vision was clearer than his. Amidst gasps of astonishment they would describe the spirits that appeared at his call. A complex being, definitely spiritual in nature rose from the earth outside and entered to stand by the ingot. It stroked the ingot lovingly and that is when the metal started to shudder. Most wizards had seen elementals before, but fewer knew that these beings had spirits, and almost none had seen one manifest itself, at least not with so courteous a calling. "Agapaz" s"ma ego aphomoio' aresk"." Kruger spoke again as he straightened, his eyes never leaving the space beyond the Ingot.
He turned then toward the East, the forge stood before him, its low flame the only light besides the sun through the open doorway. "Everything burns," he said. "Yi Wo jiao dui huo de jing shen de zun jing chu xi zhe zuo". He said in the language of fire, his voice dried leaves on the forest floor.
The light glowed brighter, the flames of the forge went red to orange, Kruger felt the heat rise in the building, and bowed once more. Another elemental spirit had come, this one those wizened folks had described differently on other occasions. Sometimes the spirit was a salamander, or fire lizard. Other appearances were columns of fire, once or twice the column became a vortex. One thing that always remained the same was the placement of the spirits; it would rise from the forge itself, the flames giving it form.
"Shou huan Ying de jing shen wo gan ji ni." The voice of dead leaves said as Kruger rose, eyes never leaving the forge fire.
A moment he watched before swinging all the way around to the West. On a table before him lay the bellows. He would attach it to the forge after the ritual was completed, only after the balance of the elements was tied together.
"The wind touches all" He said in an awed tone. "Jo-kayed-goh-chindi-hal-zid-nilchi-di-na-nish' The language of the wind came in a hoarse whisper, a sentence ending with a sigh.
Once Kruger had seen the spirit come to this summoning, it had been chance that dust had been caught in its passing, it outlined the spirit for all to see. This had been difficult to explain to the dwarven smiths who had come with his supplies. A stiff breeze rattled the windows; the bellows spun its nozzle facing Kruger.
Again he bowed eyes resting on the handles of the bellows. "Hal-zid da-a-he-gi-eneh chindi", he said, in a whispering sigh, as he rose.
Eyes lingered a moment, then the right turn to the North. The quench laid there, a large trough usually containing brine. There were occasions where whale fat, or olive oil in a pinch, was required. The quench depended upon what was being forged. Brine would suffice for this labor. "Water is life", he said with a demure respect. "Ag "m's imp"m scairt spiorad sibh de uisce bailigh seo cruthaigh." He said in a voice that was at once a babbling brook, and a crashing wave.
The water stirred violently in the trough, Kruger bowed quickly, deeply though his eyes never left the surface of the water. Those scholarly types that were so impressed with his rites described faces that appeared in the waters surface. On rare occasions the violent reaction was followed by a face marred by anger, as though it felt summoned by insugnificant inferiors.
"F"ilte spiorad muid b' bu"och." He said in the language of water, rising and again letting his eyes linger a moment before turning to face the anvil.
From his belt he pulled the three-pound cross-peen hammer, and stood it with its handle pointing toward the ceiling. He lay his hands over the hammer head, one to each side of the handle, and closing his eyes began to sing.
"Exhibeo exibeo ego ut necto simul tui substantia et pondera haec nixor", a singsong chant from his lips. In his mind he felt a convergence of strength flow to him. His ears thought they caught words, in the languages he had already used.
"We agree, proceed with your labor?, or something similar were the words he heard. He took up the ingot, it measured six inches long, four wide, and two thick. It was lighter than it should have been remnants of his dwindling store of special metals. He would need to find more, he had heard of a group that might be able to help, but enough thinking about the Blood. His mind had to stay on the task at hand. Elessaria Devabriel had requested a blade; Kruger would give her one to match The Lady Fire.
"Always begin with the earth." Kruger intoned, the ritual was begun. "Mazi sebasmos ego diamartyromai esy s"ma apo gi este agorazo ide ktirio." He said in the language of stone. The ingot vibrated in response.
Kruger bowed at the vibration, though he could not see what was there. He had been told more than once by those whose vision was clearer than his. Amidst gasps of astonishment they would describe the spirits that appeared at his call. A complex being, definitely spiritual in nature rose from the earth outside and entered to stand by the ingot. It stroked the ingot lovingly and that is when the metal started to shudder. Most wizards had seen elementals before, but fewer knew that these beings had spirits, and almost none had seen one manifest itself, at least not with so courteous a calling. "Agapaz" s"ma ego aphomoio' aresk"." Kruger spoke again as he straightened, his eyes never leaving the space beyond the Ingot.
He turned then toward the East, the forge stood before him, its low flame the only light besides the sun through the open doorway. "Everything burns," he said. "Yi Wo jiao dui huo de jing shen de zun jing chu xi zhe zuo". He said in the language of fire, his voice dried leaves on the forest floor.
The light glowed brighter, the flames of the forge went red to orange, Kruger felt the heat rise in the building, and bowed once more. Another elemental spirit had come, this one those wizened folks had described differently on other occasions. Sometimes the spirit was a salamander, or fire lizard. Other appearances were columns of fire, once or twice the column became a vortex. One thing that always remained the same was the placement of the spirits; it would rise from the forge itself, the flames giving it form.
"Shou huan Ying de jing shen wo gan ji ni." The voice of dead leaves said as Kruger rose, eyes never leaving the forge fire.
A moment he watched before swinging all the way around to the West. On a table before him lay the bellows. He would attach it to the forge after the ritual was completed, only after the balance of the elements was tied together.
"The wind touches all" He said in an awed tone. "Jo-kayed-goh-chindi-hal-zid-nilchi-di-na-nish' The language of the wind came in a hoarse whisper, a sentence ending with a sigh.
Once Kruger had seen the spirit come to this summoning, it had been chance that dust had been caught in its passing, it outlined the spirit for all to see. This had been difficult to explain to the dwarven smiths who had come with his supplies. A stiff breeze rattled the windows; the bellows spun its nozzle facing Kruger.
Again he bowed eyes resting on the handles of the bellows. "Hal-zid da-a-he-gi-eneh chindi", he said, in a whispering sigh, as he rose.
Eyes lingered a moment, then the right turn to the North. The quench laid there, a large trough usually containing brine. There were occasions where whale fat, or olive oil in a pinch, was required. The quench depended upon what was being forged. Brine would suffice for this labor. "Water is life", he said with a demure respect. "Ag "m's imp"m scairt spiorad sibh de uisce bailigh seo cruthaigh." He said in a voice that was at once a babbling brook, and a crashing wave.
The water stirred violently in the trough, Kruger bowed quickly, deeply though his eyes never left the surface of the water. Those scholarly types that were so impressed with his rites described faces that appeared in the waters surface. On rare occasions the violent reaction was followed by a face marred by anger, as though it felt summoned by insugnificant inferiors.
"F"ilte spiorad muid b' bu"och." He said in the language of water, rising and again letting his eyes linger a moment before turning to face the anvil.
From his belt he pulled the three-pound cross-peen hammer, and stood it with its handle pointing toward the ceiling. He lay his hands over the hammer head, one to each side of the handle, and closing his eyes began to sing.
"Exhibeo exibeo ego ut necto simul tui substantia et pondera haec nixor", a singsong chant from his lips. In his mind he felt a convergence of strength flow to him. His ears thought they caught words, in the languages he had already used.
"We agree, proceed with your labor?, or something similar were the words he heard. He took up the ingot, it measured six inches long, four wide, and two thick. It was lighter than it should have been remnants of his dwindling store of special metals. He would need to find more, he had heard of a group that might be able to help, but enough thinking about the Blood. His mind had to stay on the task at hand. Elessaria Devabriel had requested a blade; Kruger would give her one to match The Lady Fire.