by B J Hanlon
“Now, I want you to continue for another hour, this time holding these swords parallel to the ground in either hand. It’s not just your legs that need strengthening.” He smiled and went back to his place next to the fire.
Edin couldn’t move after the second half of training. He collapsed into the dirt when he was told to and immediately drifted off to sleep.
The fire consumed him again, this time he was in the great room of the manor. The flames were bluer than the sky and they seemed to cover every inch of the walls like a waterfall. The smoke dropped down on him like a billowing sheet meant to suffocate him. He spun around, anything that wasn’t a wall was a dark ghostly figure. The flames encircled the animal’s heads making them look ghastly.
Nothing was actually burning Edin realized. The walls, chairs and tables all were just acting as wicks from a candle that would never burn out. He looked toward the crillio cat’s head. Nothing touched it. The animal was as black as night with the eyes glaring at him through the haze. Edin coughed and his head began to feel fuzzy. A scream echoed from upstairs.
“Mother?” He couldn’t move, his legs were rooted to the ground. He had to help, he wouldn’t leave them again. Edin grabbed the tooth hanging on his chest. It felt warm in his hands.
As if released from unseen bindings, he stepped forward into a wall of a man. Grent stood in front of him, glaring. The coal black mustache making him seem like a fierce wraith. “You can’t save them.” Grent threw him back into the flames.
Edin coughed as his eyes shot open. A soft whistle emanated from the dying fire. Standing over him with a grim look was Grent, his large boots inches from Edin’s skull.
“Good, you’re awake, time to get to work,” Grent said as he turned and walked a few feet away, swords in hand.
Edin felt a chill as he looked around the small clearing. The fire barely gave enough light for him to see more than a few feet beyond it. Edin wiped sleep from his eyes. His body ached. He tried lifting his arms, but they felt as if they were held down with large rock pails.
“I can’t move my arms,” Edin said.
“Stand up,” Grent commanded like a solider.
Edin rolled over to a crawling position. The effort caused his shoulders to shake.
“Stand up,” Grent said louder, he stepped forward and kicked Edin.
The boot caught him in the side. Pain flooded his body as the force flipped him to his back landing on something hard.
“What are you doing lying around? You soft pompous noble.”
Edin couldn’t move, his whole body hurt. There was no way he’d be able to hike today, he hadn’t any strength left. “I’m not a terrin, I’m human.”
“You’re a magus, and a weak one at that. If you’re tired during a fight you will die. I’ve seen mages summon the power. They can do great things, terrible things, but no matter what happens they get worn out quickly. If your powers fail, you’ll need to learn to fight exhausted, but first you need endurance.” He tossed the sword at Edin’s feet.
Edin took a deep breath, he clenched his jaw as he looked at the man. Couldn’t he tell there was no way Edin could do anything right now? His training at home consisted of unsupervised sword practice with Berka. Their imaginations trained them.
Standing and holding things… He couldn’t do that for another hour, heck he couldn’t do it for another five minutes, not until his body recuperated.
Grent seemed to understand his thoughts. “This morning won’t be the stances, I will begin showing you the sword, but first you need to learn to hold it,” he said, his mustache seeming to stay in one place as he spoke. It was as if the words came from somewhere else.
His body struggled as he pushed himself to his feet. He did want to learn the sword but he needed to.
Then a random thought crossed his mind, in Resholt, only soldiers and nobles were allowed to carry. Master Horston explained it as the Prince didn’t want the commoners to be armed for fear of them rising up. Somehow, the picks, pitchforks, and axes of everyday people were exempt from the ban. “It’s easier to control a population when they can’t defend themselves,” Master Horston surmised.
Though he was a noble, it’d make him too conspicuous… like a goldfish in a pond of trout.
“You’ve watched me train, yes. I know that you have seen my forms. I have practiced them almost every day since I was eight. You are very old to begin training, but I will do my best.” Grent began showing him how to grip the sword with one hand, two hands, and a reverse grip. “I’ve flipped my blade more than once to finish off an opponent,” Grent said. “Though for now, we’ll just teach you to hold it normally.” After showing Edin a few times he started with the form.
He took his sword, bowed slightly and began. Grent stepped forward, turned dodged back. His blade a blur as he twisted, stabbed, slashed, and ducked. The footwork seemed to be precise, his off hand held the blade once in a while, but then seemed to extend away from it other times.
“Why do you put your off hand straight back when you stab?”
“Balance and energy. As I said before, the body is mechanical like the clock.”
Edin raised an eyebrow.
“It’s the circle that tells time. There’s one in the Vestion.”
“I know what a clock is.” Edin said.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Horston said from somewhere.
Grent continued the movement as he spoke, somehow not losing breath as he moved in, out, and through the stances with such grace they didn’t seem to be stationary poses at all. All of the moves he made were slow, and Edin figured it was for his benefit. He wondered what it would look like if he did them at full speed and if he’d even be able to follow them.
In a fluid, perfect motion, Grent stabbed the sword back in its scabbard as easy as when he pulled it then bowed his head. “This is the most basic form,” he said. “Your turn.” Grent stepped a few feet back and crossed his arms.
Edin’s arms protested as he raised the weapon and started doing what Grent showed him. Edin bowed and forgot the rest. Even that movement hurt. Grent pushed him through the first series of movements, only five but it was like pulling an ox cart up a muddy road. Multiple times Grent stopped him for just a second to fix the placement of the blade or the stance he was in. Once in a while, Grent took his own blade and smacked Edin’s causing it to fly out of Edin’s hands.
“Strong but not stiff,” Grent said after a strike that took Edin’s blade half way across the clearing. “Loose but not lazy.”
Sweat poured down his body as he pushed through the movements. He focused as it was getting easier. Somehow, he continued to feel a steady stream of energy flowing though him. Even with his body demanding Edin stop, he didn’t.
“Enough for now,” Grent said moving toward Edin, “not bad, but we need some food before we continue on the journey. We travel through the forest today, tomorrow we should be able to make for the road. It’s a long time to the Great Cliff and descending that isn’t any one’s idea of an enjoyable time.”
“Descending it? Isn’t there a road or a path?”
“Aye there is, one… believe me we don’t want to use it.”
Edin stopped, his breath was labored and all the energy he had a few moments ago disappeared as he dropped next to the smoldering fire. Master Horston sat with his legs crossed staring at him.
Grent pulled out bread and cheese for each of them.
Edin chewed slowly, even the small weight of the food seemed heavy. He took a drink from the waterskin and laid down.
“We’re leaving in fifteen,” Master Horston said quietly, “I’ve been thinking as well, I want to discuss with you the theories I’ve read about.”
“We’ve discussed… no, you’ve lectured me with theories for years.”
“This will be wizardry theory. And you’ll need to know that if you want to be a magus.”
6
The Bard
“I don’t want to be a mage… I mean I know
I am a mage,” Edin spat. “And it’s ruined my life.” He took up a position next to Master Horston as they fell into place behind Grent. The guard was like a river of unending and unceasing movement. The forest began to come alive as the oaks and maples began to merge with pine and started to spread out letting in the morning light. His feet kicked up the brown needles on the ground as he trudged. He knew he was making it an easy trail to follow, a part of him wanted that.
Leaves rustled as a wind swept through spilling small droplets of water onto Edin’s head.
“Your sword skills are very unrefined,” Master Horston snorted, his head bobbing slightly as he walked. “You should stick to your natural talents.”
Edin rolled his eyes as he stepped over a large branch, his feet crunched on the ground. “I’ll get better,” Edin said. His body was still tired but at least he was able to learn. A dream his mother never shared. “Besides, my natural skills, as you call them only appear when my life is in danger.” He thought of the attempt in the tunnel. It felt like he almost had it but then it was gone.
“Well that’s because you do not know anything about it. I am not a teacher of the magical arts, though I have read about it.” The old man paused as if waiting for Edin to reply.
He didn’t know what to say. Was he trying to make certain Edin knew Horston read?
“From what I gather, there is a power inside a mage. No, that’s not the right word, a connection that is different than a normal person, a mundane.”
Edin nodded, though wasn’t sure he understood though it intrigued him. A bit.
“As you remember from our physics lessons, energy flows throughout the world, everything from the wind to the sunlight. Mages are supposedly able to feel the energy, some can even see it. You use this energy, as well as your own to affect the world around you.”
“See the energy?” Edin said glancing around the forest. A ray of light caught his attention ahead of him. In it, small particles floated like they were suspended from invisible ropes.
“Come now, you know that is dust,” Master Horston said nodding at the ray of light. “Now remember, the only books on magical theory that are legal, discuss the basic idea and how best to kill someone who possesses these talents. They’re written by the Por Fen monks or Vestion priests.” He waived his hand in front of them as if to say it didn’t matter. “Now there are different types of mages. Most mages can do basic spells: healing, sound and light manipulation, etcetera. But then they tend to also have an affinity for something else. Usually an element—water, earth, air, or fire. Then there are magi that are able to use energy to create physical objects in the world, ones that are as real as anything but glow in a white light.” His gaze moved to Edin. “It is a very rare gift-”
Edin snorted at the word.
Horston glared at him. “I believe that you are one of those magi, they are called philios, spirit mages.”
“Philios.” Edin said trying the word. He thought about the shield, the spike the ball of light on his foot when he kicked Dexal. What was that? He wondered. “How do I create objects?”
“I’m no expert, but it seems your subconscious is.” Master Horston pressed a bony finger to his head. “You already know how to use this power, well at least somewhere in your mind you do. Almost muscle memory as our terrin friend would say… though since you haven’t done it before that’s probably not the best word.” Then the master began to pick up his pace and walked ahead of Edin. Stopping in the middle of a lesson for Edin to think on what he’d just said was just one of the old man’s tricks.
Edin mulled on the thought for a while. He didn’t see any energy… heck he didn’t know what it would look like. Hours later, the sun was almost directly over the tops of the trees when Grent stopped them for lunch.
As if continuing the conversation Master Horston said, “What I guess happened to you is somewhere in your mind you knew exactly what was needed without your conscious brain calling it. It’s probably the oldest part of the human mind, the one that acts on instinct alone.”
Edin nodded but kept his mouth closed as Master Horston spoke, he remembered the fear, the acceptance of death… then the twisting sensation in his stomach.
When Grent grabbed him in Edin’s room it was the same. Edin thought he would die. The strongest warrior he knew would crush him. There was fear and acceptance. Three times in a few days… Edin had to be more careful. They ate more cheese and bread but Grent also pulled out some jarred grapes. Did he have to accept death before he could use his talent?
Grent passed around a large waterskin. Edin looked at it, he had his own on his hip.
“Drink,” Grent said. Edin drank. A dry red wine tickled his tongue. “Can’t have cheese without wine.”
“Very refined for a brutish warrior,” Master Horston nodded and took a drink. “But you are correct. Hopefully you paired it correctly.”
“Library rat…” Grent grunted.
After a moment Horston continued. “While that saved your life, you need to be able to use your conscious brain and pull in the energy and create the object of your desire.”
The old tutor always had a talent for picking up exactly where they left off. It could’ve been an hour, three hours or three weeks later. He could continue a conversation as if it just happened. “Are we talking about the theory again?”
“Of course, you blotard.” Master Horston shouted. “So, do you remember how you felt?”
“Yes… it was like I had to use the bathroom.” Edin said looking over at Master Horston. A branch snapped in front of them and Edin looked up.
“The break is over,” Grent said standing and pulling his pack on.
Moments later, Grent was walking ahead, stepping over small trees and brush like he was on a stroll. Edin could barely stand, even with the aid of a low branch.
“A BM?” Horston said. “Is that what it felt like?”
Edin shrugged and Horston said nothing as he began to fall behind Edin. They crossed a small stream about a pace wide when Horston appeared at his side again.
“Try and feel energy, concentrate on and object and use your gut instincts. People claim gut instincts are real, though I’ve never really believed them.”
“I do,” Grent said.
“You probably believe in draugrs. Now, start small, imagine a grape or a small ball.”
Edin took a deep breath and looked at the forest floor in front of him, there were a few smaller branches. He’d seen mounds of dirt, probably ant hills, low lying shrubs and dead branches but the forest floor was almost exclusively covered in the pine needles. “Don’t let me run into any trees.” Edin said closing his eyes. He strode forward as he imagined a grape in his hands. Purple and sweet. Edin concentrated. He put one hand out and held it palm up. In his mind, he tried to see it.
Nothing happened, it seemed like no matter how hard he concentrated he couldn’t feel it. Nothing twisted in his gut. In the tunnel he thought he saw a glow, but then Master Horston appeared with a torch.
A hand pushed against his shoulder, steering him left. He opened his eyes as his shoulder skimmed a tree. Edin looked at Horston and shook his head.
“Sorry.”
Throughout the afternoon, they continued to walk, Edin would be pushed or pulled at a moment’s notice and instantly break his concentration. He couldn’t feel any energy that Master Horston spoke of. But somehow, he felt like he could hear better, birds chirping, an axe chopping in the distance. He could smell the petrichor forest with its rotting wood and damp earth.
Each breath seemed more calming and peaceful. His mind wandered to what was around him, he felt ground beneath his feet and the breeze as it rustled.
A deep yawn came from beside him. “Maybe it’s best we stop for the night,” Master Horston yelled up to the warrior. “I think we’re far enough out that we can make for the road tomorrow.
He couldn’t tell how long they’d been walking but he could see the sky was a deep orange.
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��We’ll give it another half hour, if we don’t find a suitable site, we’ll drop for the evening.”
Nothing more appealing appeared in the time frame and Grent dropped his pack next to a tree and began clearing a spot for a fire.
Master Horston took out a small cooking pot and began filling it with water and some herbs. Slowly he started to add vegetables, hard ones first, carrots and potatoes, then onion, peas and a dried meat.
“Work on your stances, strength and conditioning,” Grent said after the fire was started. He laid against his pack as Edin sighed. He tried to hold the stances but could only go for less than fifteen minutes total when his thighs began to feel like jam and he collapsed.
Grent shook his head. “Your legs may be tired, but it’s your willpower that’s weak.”
“No, it isn’t,” Edin said.
Grent waived a hand for a moment. Then his eyes rose like he’d just had an idea. He leapt from his spot on the ground and walked to where Edin lay. “The stances strengthen your legs. The Forms help with balance and muscle memory, eventually strength and speed. But, to increase strength quicker in your upper body I will teach you the Oret Nakosu.”
Edin tried pronouncing it but was sure it was butchered.
“Close enough.”
“What is that highborn?”
“Ulstapish is the correct name of the language,” Horston said. “And a rough translation is granite manhood.”
Grent grinned. “They are a series of repeating exercises that use tense muscles and move slowly, deliberately.” Grent began showing Edin the first set of movements. Unlike the forms, there was no grace or fluidity behind this. “You use muscle on muscle movement, twisting the ligaments and tendons in your body. This causes your body to fight itself and then you develop strength. The man who taught this to me was smaller than Master Horston but getting struck by him felt like getting hit by a blacksmith’s hammer.”