Terras Citadel Underground
Kingdom of Sultros, Kalea 499 AV
Is it always going to be this hot?
The young Makaan whined as she used the tongs to fire the rod of steel in the blast furnace, the mouth of which seemed large enough to fit even a small girl like her inside and eat her up! She was only 26, a runt of a child by the standards of her people and her arm barely tough enough to do what the Isur demanded of it and prided in.
"We have to temper that arm of yours, young one, if you're ever going to make use of it. The Matriarchs of the Terras Clan are proud of their Isurean arms. You have to start early." Her mentor, Old Helthir she was called, was Makaan's godmother - an Isur healthy and to whom time has been kind. Reaching her 100's, she had taken personally the responsibility of rearing the young Makaan while her parents busied themselves in the workshops and forges of the Orehammers.
Makaan was close to tearing up from the searing heat eminating from the furnace. Columns of flames engulfed the metal rod the young girl held to the fire, and if one looked closely it had already begun to glow brightly with heat. "I've seen mother do this, but how come she doesn't use these things anymore?", she asked as she pointed with her other, normal hand to the tongs.
"I'd like to see you use your Isurian arm at your age, young lady. You'll be lucky if it doesn't burn the Djed off right from your bones!", the matriarch replied with a small chuckle. "Now come on Makaan, the metal's ready. Can't you feel it?"
"How do I do that?", Makaan asked in reply as she turned her head to her mentor, puffing her cheeks. "Look at it", the latter replied as she stood behind the young girl. "See that metal? It has Djed, like all things in this world, Makaan. We Isur, we can feel the Djed in everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything and anything, child. Izurdin has given us the gift of our arms. You're young and you don't understand, but someday you will learn that your arm is everything that you are. How you use it and what you do with it is who you are."
"Is my arm filled with Djed too?"
"Your whole body is, Makaan. Like me, and that metal you hold to the fire", Helthir said with a smile and a pat on the young girl's head. Beads of sweat were beginning to trickle down the youth's face, running across her beautiful pale skin and down her neck. Her eyes were watery from the heat, but she kept looking at the fire and the glowing metal she held inside. "So I can feel the metal too.." She took a deep breath and turned once more to Helthir, nodding. "I think it's ready now."
"Quickly then child, douse it in the water and let's get to work", the matriarch said with a smile and cheery tone. And in suit, young Makaan took the metal out of the fire and walked over to the basin which lay to the side, and dipped the heated rod inside with the tongs, causing steam to burst up and fizzle into the humid air of the Terras Citadel underground. A few seconds later she pulled it out and looked at it, now cooled but still steaming.
Helthir walked over to her, stood behind Makaan and handed her a wet towel, putting it in the little girl's palm. "Go, child. Do you remember your father's sword?"
"Yes", she replied. "It was curved a little at the midle and pointy at the tip right" The matriarch nodded. "Go ahead then, try and shape the metal like it!"
Makaan gulped as she held the wet cloth in her Isurian hand and the tongs with the metal rod in the other. She was told before this that the experience would be a lot like molding clay, although she had a lot of doubts on how similar that would be. Any discerning person knew the difference between hot ore and soft earth, but she trusted the Terras matriarchs. With a deep breath, she grasped the rod with the cloth around her hand, at first letting out a small, soft shrief from the heat leaking out of the ore. As she took another breath and calmed down, she tried to move it, and although with some difficulty, did so successfully and curved it along the center.
"And the tip?", old Helthir added with a smile as she looked on.
Pointy tip, pointy tip, Makaan thought as she drew her attention to the end of the rod and nicked it off carefully but messily nonetheless, trying to form a sharpened end, the final result of which looked more like a quill than a blade end.
"Do you feel the Djed?"
The young Makaan nodded and smiled witha twinkle in her eyes, amazed as she continued to warp and bend the ore around like a child would with clay. |
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by Makaan on July 30th, 2013, 8:21 am 
