by AC Cobble
Rhys groaned but took off at a brisk jog without objecting.
“Hide for a few weeks!” complained Amelie. “We must reach Northport and help raise forces to save Issen.”
“Girl, I am certain you two will not survive this if you are unable to protect yourselves. The siege of Issen will take months, there is some time. We have a bigger, immediate problem. I cannot extend protection to you both and hope to defeat one of my colleagues. Remember your training. The only sure defense against an attack is an individual’s own hardened will.”
Three days later, they settled into an abandoned farm house north of Kirksbane. It was set well off the road and in a sorry state of disrepair. Rhys speculated there must have been an elderly occupant who couldn’t care for the place any longer. Whether the occupant passed away or moved on, they did not know. Nearby fields lay fallow. It had been at least a season since anyone tended to them.
The first day, Ben and Rhys cleaned up what they could and tried to make the place more comfortable. For people used to living on the road over the last two months, four walls and a leaky roof seemed like luxury.
They cleaned out the hearth, kicked out a relatively debris free area for sleeping, and even found a sturdy table with usable chairs.
Behind the farmhouse, they found a narrow creek sufficient for gathering water. It looked too small to contain fish, but they would look anyway.
Ben scouted the area for signs of game. In the field, he found markings he thought belonged to wild pigs. He made a note to check for additional signs. Maybe they could stock up on ham and bacon for the rest of the journey.
Also that day, Towaal sat down with Amelie and interrogated her about her training. Towaal had occasionally visited Initiate Amelie, but she was usually in the field. She was never assigned to training new mages.
Ben overheard snippets of the conversation as he worked.
“I understand the concept of hardening your will,” stated Amelie. “If you have hardened your will, and maintain the space around you, then another mage cannot manipulate matter within the sphere of your influence, right?”
Towaal murmured assent.
“And that is how you were able to push aside Lady Ingrid’s fire?” surmised Amelie.
“Yes,” affirmed Lady Towaal. “It requires less willpower to control your body and the immediate area around you, hence, it’s easier to play defense than offense in battle. It is the property of inertia. Instead of trying to effect change in the world, you are trying to maintain stasis. Simply put, the physical world is inclined to keep doing what it is doing.”
“Then how did you defeat Lady Ingrid? Was she not protecting herself?” questioned Amelie.
“She was trying,” remarked Towaal dryly. “It is easier to maintain stasis, but a stronger will can still overpower a weaker will. A strong enough will can even manipulate matter within your body, despite you trying to stop it. They say the Veil can stop a person’s heart from beating using only her will, though I’m not sure how anyone would know that since the woman hasn’t been outside her residence in a century.”
Amelie frowned at the reference to the Veil, but questions about the fight with Ingrid were more pressing. “So, are you that much stronger than Ingrid that you were able to overpower her? What kind of defense can Ben and I put up then if we are facing experienced mages?”
“It’s important to understand that against a strong enough mage, you may not be able to put up any defense,” advised Towaal, “but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. Lady Ingrid, I believe she was near my strength. She was also a field mage and had experience in combat. She forgot one important lesson though, which we teach all initiates. Magic involves two core capabilities, will and knowledge. Ingrid was pouring all of her willpower into the attack. She pulled heat from the courtyard and from her own body to generate the fire she was using.”
Lady Towaal paused and sipped from a water skin before continuing. “By drawing in the heat, she created an abundance of its opposite in the atmosphere, cold. I understood that, but she may not have. In a sense, she helped me by creating the necessary conditions to use the drop in temperature to freeze the moisture in the air. After that, I formed the frozen water into icicles and directed it toward her at a high rate of speed.”
Amelie sat back pensively. Ben hurried out of the door before he was caught eavesdropping.
That afternoon, Rhys found Ben collecting firewood and bent down to assist. While they were working, Rhys simply asked, “Mathias?”
Ben cringed. He hadn’t exactly forgotten about his friend, but so much had been happening that he hadn’t told Rhys yet.
“He,” Ben paused, shifting the stack of wood in his arms. “He didn’t make it.”
“How did it happen?” asked Rhys softly.
“About a week outside of the City, a hunter found us. We fought and Mathias…”
“It’s okay,” said Rhys.
“Rhys,” Ben added, “if it wasn’t for Mathias, Amelie and I would both be dead now. He saved us outside the Sanctuary and he saved us in the woods that night. He didn’t have to help me. He knew what he was going against and he did it anyway, without a second thought. He was a good man.”
“He was a good man.” Rhys agreed. “Tonight, we’ll toast to his memory.”
“Mathias would like that,” agreed Ben.
Amelie was eager to get back on the road and reach Northport with minimal delay, but after Lady Towaal and Rhys fully explained the capabilities of the Sanctuary, even she agreed they needed time to prepare. Mages, hunters, assassins, and soldiers would all be set onto their trail. Speed and stealth were two important factors, but they could not count on avoiding all conflicts. Already on the journey they had been attacked numerous times. It didn’t take much to imagine it happening again. They had to be ready to fight.
So began two weeks of intensive training. Each morning, Rhys started with sword practice. In the afternoon, Lady Towaal taught them how to bolster their magical defenses, and in the evening, they practiced the Ohms, which relaxed their bodies and minds.
Rhys’ sword training was different from Saala’s. Where Saala taught a variety of forms and spoke about how to react to an opponent and use them, Rhys emphasized creativity and getting your opponent to react to you.
“Lead them into a mistake and never let them see what is coming,” he barked. “Remember, we are fighting, not dueling!”
“We are practicing,” grumbled Ben.
“I don’t practice, remember?” Rhys snorted. “Once I’m done with you, you won’t practice either. When you draw your longsword, you need to plan on using it.”
Another difference was that Saala fought with a clean and elegant style. He favored observing an opponent and molding his attacks and defense to what they were doing. Rhys was quick, efficient, relentless, and brutal. He didn’t care what you were doing because he acted before you did it. Sparring with Saala was like dancing. Sparring with Rhys was like a no holds barred tavern brawl.
It was exhausting for Ben and Amelie.
On the first day, Rhys fashioned practice swords from materials he found in the woods around the farmhouse. He expected them to be used several bells each day.
Ben quickly realized that while hiking through the woods kept him active during their travel, it didn’t have the same intensity as sword practice. He’d gotten out of shape compared to when he sparred regularly with Saala. Rhys was determined to get him back in shape.
Amelie had it worse. She had never spent a significant amount of time practicing the sword. Several bells of handling two wooden practice blades were difficult for her. Rhys was able to motivate her easily, though.
“How are you going to help your people if you can’t lift a sword,” chided Rhys.
Amelie’s face contorted in a determined scowl and she charged forward, vigorously swinging her weapons. Rhys laughed and jumped out of the way.
During the second week, Ben felt he was beginning to regain some of h
is conditioning. While he was less successful sparring with Rhys than he had been Saala, he did manage to strike the rogue a few times.
That was until Lady Towaal got involved.
Ben was balanced on the balls of his feet, circling Rhys while the man described tactics for facing more than one opponent. He had been demonstrating it earlier against both Ben and Amelie, but she was lying on the ground, completely worn down. Ben was tired too. He kept going though, hoping that Rhys would finally get distracted by something and he could get a strike in.
Instead, Ben was distracted.
A steady, cool breeze was blowing through, portending a storm later that evening. All of a sudden, the breeze turned into a gale.
Rhys’ clothing flapped violently around him and Ben was blown off his feet and tumbled across the clear space they used for practice.
As quickly as the gale started, it stopped.
Amelie sat up, startled. She had only been ruffled by the burst of wind. Its effects nearby were apparent though. A cloud of dust was settling around Ben and a pile of loose objects were strewn around behind him.
“What the…” he started. Then he saw Lady Towaal, calmly observing from twenty paces away. He stopped speaking. He knew what happened.
“If a mage attacks you, she is unlikely to give you warning beforehand,” instructed the stern-faced woman. “You must be prepared at all times.”
“How is that possible to be prepared for that?” complained Ben.
“I didn’t get knocked over, did I?” remarked Rhys.
That was the start of the second phase of Lady Towaal’s training.
Earlier in the previous week, she began by teaching meditation exercises to calm and center them.
“It’s not so different from the Ohms Rhys has been teaching you, if that helps,” she said, “but where the Ohms require concentration to achieve physical balance, this requires a mental balance. Eventually, either with the Ohms or holding your will, it should become second nature. Balance is a habit that you do without thinking.”
Ben frowned, not understanding.
“When you walk,” explained Lady Towaal, “do you have to think about every step?”
Ben shook his head no.
“That is because your body and mind unconsciously adjust as you move. You’ve done it enough that you no longer think about it. If you start up a hill, your center of gravity changes, and your body responds before you fall over.”
“What is center of gravity?” asked Ben.
Towaal sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Never mind. Just understand that physical balance and mental balance are similar. The goal is to maintain both at all times and always be prepared to adjust to your surroundings.”
Well, that part made sense at least, thought Ben.
To teach them defense, Lady Towaal instructed them to focus on every tiny detail about what was happening in their bodies and around them. When they concentrated, they could feel their hearts beat and feel the air filling their lungs. They could sense small movements around them, like a bird flying between two trees or an ant crawling across their legs.
While they concentrated, Lady Towaal would use her will to affect a small change around them. At first, the goal was just to sense the change.
After several days, they both were able to do this the majority of the time. Amelie picked it up easily and she was able to help Ben by explaining things in different terms than Towaal used. Between the two women, at least one of them could usually describe it in a way he understood.
Once they were able to sense the changes, Towaal showed them how to prevent them. It was easiest when it was something within their bodies or touching them. Outside of their immediate space, it grew difficult. The further the change was from their physical presence, the more difficult it was to hold. Amelie was able to hold objects static that were a dozen paces away from her. Ben struggled with anything that wasn’t touching him.
Ben was getting frustrated, but Towaal assured him he was doing well. “Remember, she’s had months of training in the Sanctuary. You haven’t. Many of these concepts are familiar to her.”
“If she’s been there for months,” Ben glanced at Amelie apologetically before continuing. “Then shouldn’t she know how to do this?”
Towaal broke a tiny smile. “Many in the Sanctuary consider this to be a combat skill. That is not something taught early to initiates. Besides, what I am teaching you is an infinitesimally small part of becoming a mage. You are learning to impose your will on your own body. That is natural. You do it unconsciously all of the time. Extending that will beyond yourself and gaining knowledge to understand what you are doing is the difficult part of being a mage.”
Holding their will and keeping their surroundings static was, as she said, the easiest part of Towaal’s training. They would sit in a quiet space and wait for her to create a disturbance. Then they would try to stop it. It was fairly entertaining, like a game, and Ben found it pleasant.
The surprise attacks she began conducting during the second week were unpleasant. Whether it was during sword practice, dinner, or even one time when Ben was leaning over the creek to get water, she was remorseless in showing Ben just how little attention he was paying to his surroundings.
After the water incident, while Ben was returning soaking wet to the farmhouse, he decided Towaal might be enjoying this a little more than was necessary.
Late in the evening, after long days of sword, will, and Ohms practice, they would relax around a fire in the farmhouse hearth or outside in the open. The leaves on the trees had turned and the evening air carried a distinct chill. After so many nights on the road, it felt good to Ben to be in one place. Huddling close to the fire became his favorite part of the day.
One night during the second week, Rhys produced a silver flask and shared its contents with Ben. It went down with a warm tingle, unlike the harsh burn of the rough spirits he drank in Free State. Someone had put a lot of time and care in distilling this liquor.
They were sprawled out in the open beside a fire pit Ben had dug the prior week. It reminded him of previous times he’d camped with his friend Rhys. It reminded him of Renfro too.
“Before you left the City, did you see any of our friends?” inquired Ben. “I worry about Renfro.”
Rhys nodded. “I did some poking around as soon as we realized something was amiss. That little thief has a second sense for these things. He was already in hiding. I managed to track him down and I told him to leave town. I don’t think he’ll do it, but when I found him, it scared him. At the very least, he’ll dig in deeper. The Sanctuary will be inclined to think he fled the City. I worked for them, and I know, they won’t be able to imagine someone not running. If he stays out of sight, he’ll be all right.”
“And the brewery?” Ben asked, relieved. Renfro could do foolish things sometimes, but if he wasn’t caught on the initial sweep, then he had a chance. Whatever wrongs Renfro had done in the past, he didn’t deserve what the Sanctuary would do if they caught him.
“It’s been dismantled.” Rhys shrugged. “The warehouse was empty. To be honest, I didn’t look into it much. With you, Reinhold, and Renfro gone, well, what can you expect?”
“You’re right,” agreed Ben with a sigh. “I would have liked to see it continue on without me. I suppose that was never going to happen. I put a lot of effort into that place.”
Rhys took a drink from his flask and passed it to Ben. “A toast. To what you built and what you’ll build in the future.”
Ben sipped the liquor then handed it back. “I can’t believe through all of this you hung onto a flask.”
Rhys winked at him. “You have to know your priorities.”
Towaal shook her head ruefully from across the fire.
“We’ll have to think about resupply soon,” continued Rhys, ignoring Towaal’s disapproval. “After this flask, and the other one I brought, we’ll be completely dry. Unacceptable.”
Towaal snorted and cl
aimed, “Enough for me tonight. I think I’ll turn in.”
Rhys waved to her goodnight, took another pull on his flask, and let out a content sigh. Ben wondered how much of Rhys’ incorrigible rogue persona was an act to keep their spirits up. In an extremely stressful situation, the man’s humor was welcome. Or maybe it was there to plaster over a deeper pain beneath the surface.
Early the next morning, before the women woke up, Rhys took Ben up the small creek behind the farmhouse to see if they could find a place to fish.
Ben decided to broach a topic he’d been wondering about.
“Rhys,” he started tentatively. “A while ago, Mathias mentioned something about you. He said you are, ah, rather…”
“Old?” Rhys finished for him with a grin.
Ben blinked. “Yeah, something like that.”
“I was wondering when you would ask about that,” replied Rhys. “I never bring it up, but I figured we have gotten to know each other well enough that you had to be curious. Particularly after you spent time with Mathias. He liked to gossip more than a village milk maid.”
“What…” Ben wasn’t sure how to continue. “How old are you?”
“That’s a rude question, isn’t it?” asked Rhys with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s only rude when you ask a woman,” retorted Ben.
Rhys paused, shook his head, and snorted. He looked at Ben then started walking along the creek bed again without answering.
“It’s true though, isn’t it? You are a long-lived?” inquired Ben.
Rhys sighed. “Yes, it is true.”
Ben followed the rogue through the low bush and kept his eyes on the narrow waterway. It was unlikely they’d find fish in there, he thought.
“How?” asked Ben.
Rhys scratched an arm, eyes on the water. “It just happens. There is no ceremony, no official acknowledgement. One day, I just stopped getting older. I’m not even sure when it happened. I certainly didn’t feel any different. I was traveling a lot then and not spending much time around the same people. I came home one year, back to where I was born and spent my childhood. I realized everyone looked different, older, but not me.”