Note: Sorry for the shift, but I am having a hard time maintaining the
'distance' of previous chapters, so will probably be a bit closer to the
characters thoughts from now on.
~ One, Close your eyes, let the shadows dance
~ Two, Open wide, behold the light
~ Three, Stand firm, let the universe guide you
~ Four, Dance! And let the wind do the rest.
The Forging of the First Sword
Rhanna knelt in the center of a triangle dug into the earth. Twilight was approaching, but she knelt in silence, eyes closed. She wore a simple white tunic of some filmy fabric, that seemed to collect a slight sheen as the light faded and took on its own glow. Her father was in the house, no doubt counting up just how much money he had. He had often mentioned wishing to move to the Middle East, and once wealthy enough, procure materials for more large scale weapons.
But for now, it was her duty to make swords, for dark or for light. She had a significantly harder time with dark swords, and was much more troubled by them, so she was thankful that these swords would be for the light. One week, only one week. A day to forge, a day to rest. Less, if she wished to sneak in anything of her own.
A silent figure, she continued to meditate, listening to the soft sounds of the world about her. The specifications of the sword were a bit vague, but she would make do. The size of the order was enormous. A half-giant perhaps? She wondered at the size of the hilt and blade. She let her mind wander over the imprint the letter detailing it gave. The author of the order would not be it's owner, she felt. The blade would belong to - a burly man? Certainly a large one. Gruff in appearance, crude in his execution of things, but of a stout heart.
The wind whispered. She felt a concern for all creatures, a sweet, simple heart. A good man, she decided, and smiled as her mind's eye captured the blurry face of a large, bearded man.
She pressed her palm to the earth, and opened her eyes. The triangle blazed a soft green, like springtime. She looked to the corner before her, where all the raw materials lay. On the back right corner lay nothing, on the back left, her mediums. Rhanna grinned, and shoved them all away. None were fit. Instead, she took a twig from the ground and placed it on the corner, then returned to the middle to stand. Raising her arms to the air, she was immediately engulfed in the spring glow. Deftly she reached out with her mind and fingers, feeling for the threads of nature that ran through the air. She concentrated, her conscience wandering to the grass and trees and vines that trailed the nearby forest.
Pulling further into her open eyed trance, Rhanna let the Earth guide her, weaving the threads in her heart into the first of the magnificent swords.
When at last the light faded from the triangle, it was well past midnight. The light there was spilled from her tunic, now a radiant silver that rivaled the moon. Rhanna outspread her right hand, and the hilt of the sword came into it, humming with its power. The sword was two large for her, so she brought her other hand to grip it as well.
Spinning deftly, she flung it upwards where it hovered as if with a levitation spell. Her hands worked in intricate motions, now creating the final touches of the sword. The power had already been imbued into the blade and the swords and the sheath, but the design had yet to be assembled. Each motion laid a gem, or sent a line of ornate filigree to inscribe itself into the charmed metal. These motions were second nature to her, though the size of the project was far larger than she was used to.
At two am her father came outside and found her passed out in the triangle. He carried her to her room, after seeing to it that the giant sword was carefully wrapped in a spring green cloth and sent out for delivery.
~ One, Close your eyes, let the shadows dance
~ Two, Open wide, behold the light
~ Three, Stand firm, let the universe guide you
~ Four, Dance! And let the wind do the rest.
The Forging of the First Sword
Rhanna knelt in the center of a triangle dug into the earth. Twilight was approaching, but she knelt in silence, eyes closed. She wore a simple white tunic of some filmy fabric, that seemed to collect a slight sheen as the light faded and took on its own glow. Her father was in the house, no doubt counting up just how much money he had. He had often mentioned wishing to move to the Middle East, and once wealthy enough, procure materials for more large scale weapons.
But for now, it was her duty to make swords, for dark or for light. She had a significantly harder time with dark swords, and was much more troubled by them, so she was thankful that these swords would be for the light. One week, only one week. A day to forge, a day to rest. Less, if she wished to sneak in anything of her own.
A silent figure, she continued to meditate, listening to the soft sounds of the world about her. The specifications of the sword were a bit vague, but she would make do. The size of the order was enormous. A half-giant perhaps? She wondered at the size of the hilt and blade. She let her mind wander over the imprint the letter detailing it gave. The author of the order would not be it's owner, she felt. The blade would belong to - a burly man? Certainly a large one. Gruff in appearance, crude in his execution of things, but of a stout heart.
The wind whispered. She felt a concern for all creatures, a sweet, simple heart. A good man, she decided, and smiled as her mind's eye captured the blurry face of a large, bearded man.
She pressed her palm to the earth, and opened her eyes. The triangle blazed a soft green, like springtime. She looked to the corner before her, where all the raw materials lay. On the back right corner lay nothing, on the back left, her mediums. Rhanna grinned, and shoved them all away. None were fit. Instead, she took a twig from the ground and placed it on the corner, then returned to the middle to stand. Raising her arms to the air, she was immediately engulfed in the spring glow. Deftly she reached out with her mind and fingers, feeling for the threads of nature that ran through the air. She concentrated, her conscience wandering to the grass and trees and vines that trailed the nearby forest.
Pulling further into her open eyed trance, Rhanna let the Earth guide her, weaving the threads in her heart into the first of the magnificent swords.
When at last the light faded from the triangle, it was well past midnight. The light there was spilled from her tunic, now a radiant silver that rivaled the moon. Rhanna outspread her right hand, and the hilt of the sword came into it, humming with its power. The sword was two large for her, so she brought her other hand to grip it as well.
Spinning deftly, she flung it upwards where it hovered as if with a levitation spell. Her hands worked in intricate motions, now creating the final touches of the sword. The power had already been imbued into the blade and the swords and the sheath, but the design had yet to be assembled. Each motion laid a gem, or sent a line of ornate filigree to inscribe itself into the charmed metal. These motions were second nature to her, though the size of the project was far larger than she was used to.
At two am her father came outside and found her passed out in the triangle. He carried her to her room, after seeing to it that the giant sword was carefully wrapped in a spring green cloth and sent out for delivery.