716 Ashan 31...
Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, trailed down the sides of his face, and had long since stained a blossom of darkened patches around his chest and under his arms. The linen of his shirt clung to his irriguous skin, itching uncomfortably. Heat from the sun’s light beat down upon the back of his neck, his ears, his calves exposed as they were. All of it might have, at some point, been a threat to his careful intake of breath, the calm endless darkness of the still lake whose image was carefully painted over the forced quiet of his thoughts. They were physical annoyances, external factors that had no bearing upon the stillness and singular focus of his mind.
But therein lay the issue.
Another rock slammed into his shoulder, the replicated layers of carefully condensed air held taut against the force, shivering for a moment before it dropped harmlessly at his feet. “Mads, darling, you must at least try to deflect the rocks.” She sounded almost as weary as his body should have felt.
He wasn’t certain how many breaks had passed since the Madam Graciana Moreno had declared this trial to be the trial he would find a breakthrough in their latest endeavor. Nor could he quite remember how many rocks had traveled the exact same path as the last. The small pile of stones at his feet was hardly an accurate indicator given they’d taken at least a handful of reprieves if not more.
Even had he wanted to, the effort needed to maintain the small field around him and to, ideally, prepare for the next projectile that would inevitably be hurled toward his head left very little processing power for his tongue. Though he’d done well in honing his focus into an edge, cutting through the frivolous, chaotic distractions that sought to snatch away the reigns to his concentration, it had been discovered that further splitting so narrow a blade of focus to both maintain a field and cast a barrier was more difficult a challenge than either act on their own.
Gradually, he let his breath flow out through barely parted lips. His eyes were focused on the stone in Graciana’s hand, his discomforts well known to him but not so much ignored as they were accepted. To be comfortable and calm in one’s own skin was to embrace both strength and weakness – and everything in between. He felt the slow beat of his own heart, the gentle pulsing metronome that filled the empty obsidian sky within him.
Again, the rock bounced off of him – this time just shy of the middle of his forehead – and clattered to the ground with the rest.
His had hand moved, but too late and without producing any of the necessary ether to erect a quick barrier to deflect – or at the very least slow – the projectile. A bead of sweat caught at the corner of his eye, the salty burn forcing him to rapidly blink in an attempt to clear his vision. His focus wavered, the field shifted, and within the next handful of trills, the spell was ended and yet another rock had joined its fellows.
“Perhaps it is time we rest.” Graciana pulled a handkerchief from somewhere within the folds of her ashen grey dress, dusting off her hands with a few subtle but efficient movements. “I believe we are overdue for light a snack.”
Rolling his shoulders before running a hand through the mess of tangles that was the now both damp and unruly mop one might call hair, Mads stared down at the rocks, using his foot to knock over the piles so he might better count their number. Fifty-six.
“Drink something, darling. I would not want you to suffer any untoward consequences of self-negligence.” She beckoned him over with a slight wave of her hand, a flask in her other. “Though I suppose in this particular case, I have put you through quite a… grueling experience.” There wasn’t the slightest hint of an apology in her voice as she handed him the flask. “You merely need to… push through. Once you… feel the freedom of a calm and steady mind that is open rather than closed, I assure you, you will discover just how simple this whole thing really is.”
The water was luke-warm, not necessarily immediately refreshing, but it quenched both his thirst and wet his throat just as well. He nodded, not once thinking to doubt the elder woman. “If I were to say I felt I was close, I would be lying.” There was the softest sigh in his words as settled onto what was, perhaps at one time, a statue’s pedestal. The stone was cool to the touch, the sunlight not yet strong enough to do much else but glare bright against its pale surface. “I can see the action, and I know what it is my body should do- my ether too.”
Graciana handed him a small bundle of cheese-cloth. “You stand at the brink. What stops you now is that unavoidable sense of sustentation. When you should cast yourself from that cliff to plummet into the abyss below, that very primal part of you interferes.” Her thin, delicate fingers quickly and effortless undid the twine string that kept the bundle wrapped. “You simply need to jump in spite of it.”
He didn’t reply immediately as he slowly bit into the ball of rice that had been carefully wrapped around the pickled mushrooms and vegetables. Methodically, he chewed his food both thoroughly and quietly; the sharp, sour flavor of the brine was mellowed by the rice’s otherwise bland contribution. Once he had swallowed, half his share balanced casually in the palm of his hand, he nodded, gaze wandering to settle on the rocks that were scattered about where he’d been standing. “A leap of faith, as it were?”
Graciana smiled thoughtfully, but merely replied with a simple, “Hm.”
They took the rest of their recess in silence, finishing their food and drawing several more draughts from their shared flask before it was time to begin again. Both Mads and Graciana gathered up the rocks, returning them to a much larger heap from which they had originally come. When everything had been put in order, Mads took his place once more.
“By your mark, darling.”
Slow breaths settled him once more into the calm, cool landscape of shadows and inky water. This time, however, Mads let the surface ripple softly rather than forcing it into stillness. Small, dark shapes drifted into focus as he began to draw the ether out through his familiarly algid spark. The ether settled around him, seeping into his surroundings, memorizing them – their form and structure, their nature, their place in the natural order of things.
As he did so, he let the lake that he held in his mind’s eye shift. Up through the otherwise glassy surface gradually emerged a vague replica of the area over which he’d exerted his influence with him at its center. Once his ether had melded into the fabric of reality, a thin layer between what was and what could be, Mads nodded his readiness.
Almost immediately, the rock was in the air.
The lake rippled.
The rock bounced off of his chest.
Brow furrowing in concentration, Mads drew a slow breath in through his nose. When the next rock came, he reached down into the cool waters of his mind and drew out a small, featureless shadow. It traveled through the empty darkness of the little model world of dusk before it disappeared – the physical rock colliding with his knee, bouncing off of the shielded armor, and joining the first at his feet.
Gradually, he began to feel more aware of his surroundings as a whole. His maintained of his field had always been a matter of pure focus, to continually infuse a specific area around him with his will. He’d treated it in much the same way one might a solid train of thought, batting away any distractions, yet the more he began to focus on the rocks, treating them as intruders to his domain he had established, the more he felt the ether within him shiver and twist, a desire to maintain the order of all that which was under his purview rising up within his spark and spreading throughout him.
When his hand moved, it felt incredibly natural. The ether flowed from the tips of his fingers, swirling in the air before him as his will commanded the space to solidify. The air hardened; a soft shimmer belied the careful, sweeping curve of the thin but sturdy barrier as the rock collided with it, ricocheting off at an angle as the barrier began to fade, having served its purpose.
Graciana’s lips curled a small grin as she tapped the surface of yet another stone with her fingernail, the soft click click click loud in the otherwise silence of the abandoned courtyard they’d repurposed for the trial. Then, Mads felt the protective aura of Graciana’s replicative wards dissipate around him as she lobbed the rock directly toward his head.
It seemed the trial – and their training – had only just begun.
Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, trailed down the sides of his face, and had long since stained a blossom of darkened patches around his chest and under his arms. The linen of his shirt clung to his irriguous skin, itching uncomfortably. Heat from the sun’s light beat down upon the back of his neck, his ears, his calves exposed as they were. All of it might have, at some point, been a threat to his careful intake of breath, the calm endless darkness of the still lake whose image was carefully painted over the forced quiet of his thoughts. They were physical annoyances, external factors that had no bearing upon the stillness and singular focus of his mind.
But therein lay the issue.
Another rock slammed into his shoulder, the replicated layers of carefully condensed air held taut against the force, shivering for a moment before it dropped harmlessly at his feet. “Mads, darling, you must at least try to deflect the rocks.” She sounded almost as weary as his body should have felt.
He wasn’t certain how many breaks had passed since the Madam Graciana Moreno had declared this trial to be the trial he would find a breakthrough in their latest endeavor. Nor could he quite remember how many rocks had traveled the exact same path as the last. The small pile of stones at his feet was hardly an accurate indicator given they’d taken at least a handful of reprieves if not more.
Even had he wanted to, the effort needed to maintain the small field around him and to, ideally, prepare for the next projectile that would inevitably be hurled toward his head left very little processing power for his tongue. Though he’d done well in honing his focus into an edge, cutting through the frivolous, chaotic distractions that sought to snatch away the reigns to his concentration, it had been discovered that further splitting so narrow a blade of focus to both maintain a field and cast a barrier was more difficult a challenge than either act on their own.
Gradually, he let his breath flow out through barely parted lips. His eyes were focused on the stone in Graciana’s hand, his discomforts well known to him but not so much ignored as they were accepted. To be comfortable and calm in one’s own skin was to embrace both strength and weakness – and everything in between. He felt the slow beat of his own heart, the gentle pulsing metronome that filled the empty obsidian sky within him.
Again, the rock bounced off of him – this time just shy of the middle of his forehead – and clattered to the ground with the rest.
His had hand moved, but too late and without producing any of the necessary ether to erect a quick barrier to deflect – or at the very least slow – the projectile. A bead of sweat caught at the corner of his eye, the salty burn forcing him to rapidly blink in an attempt to clear his vision. His focus wavered, the field shifted, and within the next handful of trills, the spell was ended and yet another rock had joined its fellows.
“Perhaps it is time we rest.” Graciana pulled a handkerchief from somewhere within the folds of her ashen grey dress, dusting off her hands with a few subtle but efficient movements. “I believe we are overdue for light a snack.”
Rolling his shoulders before running a hand through the mess of tangles that was the now both damp and unruly mop one might call hair, Mads stared down at the rocks, using his foot to knock over the piles so he might better count their number. Fifty-six.
“Drink something, darling. I would not want you to suffer any untoward consequences of self-negligence.” She beckoned him over with a slight wave of her hand, a flask in her other. “Though I suppose in this particular case, I have put you through quite a… grueling experience.” There wasn’t the slightest hint of an apology in her voice as she handed him the flask. “You merely need to… push through. Once you… feel the freedom of a calm and steady mind that is open rather than closed, I assure you, you will discover just how simple this whole thing really is.”
The water was luke-warm, not necessarily immediately refreshing, but it quenched both his thirst and wet his throat just as well. He nodded, not once thinking to doubt the elder woman. “If I were to say I felt I was close, I would be lying.” There was the softest sigh in his words as settled onto what was, perhaps at one time, a statue’s pedestal. The stone was cool to the touch, the sunlight not yet strong enough to do much else but glare bright against its pale surface. “I can see the action, and I know what it is my body should do- my ether too.”
Graciana handed him a small bundle of cheese-cloth. “You stand at the brink. What stops you now is that unavoidable sense of sustentation. When you should cast yourself from that cliff to plummet into the abyss below, that very primal part of you interferes.” Her thin, delicate fingers quickly and effortless undid the twine string that kept the bundle wrapped. “You simply need to jump in spite of it.”
He didn’t reply immediately as he slowly bit into the ball of rice that had been carefully wrapped around the pickled mushrooms and vegetables. Methodically, he chewed his food both thoroughly and quietly; the sharp, sour flavor of the brine was mellowed by the rice’s otherwise bland contribution. Once he had swallowed, half his share balanced casually in the palm of his hand, he nodded, gaze wandering to settle on the rocks that were scattered about where he’d been standing. “A leap of faith, as it were?”
Graciana smiled thoughtfully, but merely replied with a simple, “Hm.”
They took the rest of their recess in silence, finishing their food and drawing several more draughts from their shared flask before it was time to begin again. Both Mads and Graciana gathered up the rocks, returning them to a much larger heap from which they had originally come. When everything had been put in order, Mads took his place once more.
“By your mark, darling.”
Slow breaths settled him once more into the calm, cool landscape of shadows and inky water. This time, however, Mads let the surface ripple softly rather than forcing it into stillness. Small, dark shapes drifted into focus as he began to draw the ether out through his familiarly algid spark. The ether settled around him, seeping into his surroundings, memorizing them – their form and structure, their nature, their place in the natural order of things.
As he did so, he let the lake that he held in his mind’s eye shift. Up through the otherwise glassy surface gradually emerged a vague replica of the area over which he’d exerted his influence with him at its center. Once his ether had melded into the fabric of reality, a thin layer between what was and what could be, Mads nodded his readiness.
Almost immediately, the rock was in the air.
The lake rippled.
The rock bounced off of his chest.
Brow furrowing in concentration, Mads drew a slow breath in through his nose. When the next rock came, he reached down into the cool waters of his mind and drew out a small, featureless shadow. It traveled through the empty darkness of the little model world of dusk before it disappeared – the physical rock colliding with his knee, bouncing off of the shielded armor, and joining the first at his feet.
Gradually, he began to feel more aware of his surroundings as a whole. His maintained of his field had always been a matter of pure focus, to continually infuse a specific area around him with his will. He’d treated it in much the same way one might a solid train of thought, batting away any distractions, yet the more he began to focus on the rocks, treating them as intruders to his domain he had established, the more he felt the ether within him shiver and twist, a desire to maintain the order of all that which was under his purview rising up within his spark and spreading throughout him.
When his hand moved, it felt incredibly natural. The ether flowed from the tips of his fingers, swirling in the air before him as his will commanded the space to solidify. The air hardened; a soft shimmer belied the careful, sweeping curve of the thin but sturdy barrier as the rock collided with it, ricocheting off at an angle as the barrier began to fade, having served its purpose.
Graciana’s lips curled a small grin as she tapped the surface of yet another stone with her fingernail, the soft click click click loud in the otherwise silence of the abandoned courtyard they’d repurposed for the trial. Then, Mads felt the protective aura of Graciana’s replicative wards dissipate around him as she lobbed the rock directly toward his head.
It seemed the trial – and their training – had only just begun.
