Între Ciocan și Nicovală

[Kruger]

Trapped Under Ice

Freezing
Can't move at all
Screaming
Can't hear my call
I am dying to live
Cry out
I'm trapped under ice ~ Metallica

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Between a Rock and a Hard Place
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There’s a big difference between being The Anvil, and letting the alter ego go. There were still enough similarities that he and Kruger were never really separate. Music was one tightly woven bond. It had been since he was a child, known only by the name his great grandmother had given him. Nicovală, it means anvil in the language of her people, and it was far preferable to having to answer to the shouts of boy. Ignoring it had meant punishment, then again everything had meant punishment back then. Asking questions that Forgemaster Grimm didn’t know the answers to earned as severe a beating as blatant disobedience. Theft meant death, and the boy called Nicovală…

“Stop dredging up the past. Just because I’ve come to terms with it doesn’t mean I need to be reminded of it.” Kruger continued to tune the tools of his forge, his process was engrained within him after many years of employing it. He knew that his techniques were much different than anyone else’s, yet he never claimed them to be better. He believed that anyone too loud about their skill were usually lacking more than just humility. Such people would never have made it through the crucible of his youth and remained so blatantly narcissistic.

Though he was alone, he had spoken out loud, such was the curse of solitude that he spoke so that he knew he was more than simply an idea of a man. In this case he wasn’t speaking to himself. What he’d said was true. He’d come to terms with his past. Instead he spoke to the blue rock that lay perched on his ornately carved anvil. Okay it wasn’t really a rock. It was a mineraloid. Kruger understood that its structure was amorphous, and had a theory that this was, in part, why the entities were able to live within them. He had no proof, and honestly wasn’t seeking any, today or in the near future at least. It was enough to know that the common name for the entity was IceDancer, and that it was part of the blue opal. He’d been in possession of it for the last month, and with the exception of telling him that The Anvil would be thoroughly tested, IceDancer had been silent. There were the occasional groans which came with the music in Kruger’s head, but so far all of the opals except ShadoWeaver had claimed to be music haters.

Kruger had held three others, IceDancer was the fourth. MoonBeryl had been the first, and Kruger had found him to be imperious. No come to think of it, that was far too proper. MoonBeryl was snooty, believing itself above everyone and everything. The entities themselves were believed to be androgynous, however MoonBeryl, PathFinder, and IceDancer, according to those he’d spoken to, usually identified as male… or maybe just felt masculine? It could be that last one. He’d found PathFinder to be very neutral, but he’d only held the opal long enough for it to show him a direction. ShadoWeaver, for him, had definitely been very feminine, and young. He had his hypothesis as to why she’d projected herself as a girl child instead of the startlingly insectoid she’d been for others. FireStar became different things for different people. There was probably a reason for that, but he doubted that the rock would give up its secret.

“I’m testing you.” IceDancer’s voice in Kruger’s head was deeply cold and possessed edges frozen solid. This seemed proper considering it carried the aspect of ice. Sometimes it even encouraged him to tap into that aspect during pivotal moments both inside and out of the rings.


“Judging me.” Kruger countered. Normally he would have grinned at his comeback, but quite often he found himself being just as cold as the opal.

“Yes,” The reply was simple. “I need to be sure that you’re worthy of the deal you made with our sister.”

“Ah… hmmm. It sounds to me like you’re butting into not your business.” Kruger straightened, his knees still on the floor of the elevated forge deep within The Well. He stared at the blue opal in what he hoped was perceived as menacingly.

“Do you really expect her to keep her word?” There was no sarcasm in the question from the blue opal. If Kruger had to put an adverb to it, he’d say IceDancer was emotionless.

“If she doesn’t, I obviously won’t know. She didn’t seem to be a liar when we were together.” He’d held the black opal for just over seven months. It was longer than he’d had any of them, and in that time ShadoWeaver hadn’t deceived him. “But you’ve known her far longer than I have.”

The blue rock went silent for a while. If it had been a physical person, Kruger would have believed the opal was ordering its thoughts.

“I am still going to judge you for worthiness. She’ll need our help to do what you asked for.” The words were spoken in a way that had Kruger imagining a glacier claiming dominion over another patch of earth, regardless of anything living in its path.

“That’s fine. Judge me some other time, I really need to concentrate so I can get this finished.” Kruger reached for a larger wrench, and bent back to tuning the forge. He paused for a couple of seconds. Just long enough to say, “You know, it seems to me that your real difficulty isn’t if I'm deserving, but if you can deny her.”

Silence graced Kruger’s thoughts. The deviations into memories didn’t return immediately. The only thing echoing through him were the words, cry out, I’m trapped under ice.