IABD 41: The Foundations of Training

Grounding himself in the Realm in Dream, Matthias began to meditate.

Sitting in the middle of the dream village, he breathed in the cool air, his consciousness washing all thought away, letting his mind focus on his senses.

Doing so was surprisingly easy.

He had been practising meditation from the time he was a small boy who had failed his first affinity test for Life Enforcement, the practise had never felt so natural before.

When he’d meditated in the past, his mind would focus on the weight of his body, the rush of his breath, and the beating of his own heart.

Now, his awareness went deeper. 

His senses were filled with the warmth of his soul, the chill of his shadow, and the steady thrum of the two Towers within his spirit; his awareness was beginning to stretch beyond the physical as he meditated.

He could feel how his Towers’ expanding, incomplete foundation had strengthened the life force circulating through his channels, filling his body with newfound power. Matthias was glad he had practised Life Energy Circulation every day and night; he doubted his channels would have survived the growing divine strength in his life force if he hadn’t.

But it was time to strengthen those channels further.

With a deep breath, he grasped his soul with his will…and found that the sensation of holding it felt different.

Before, it used to feel like an oily, slick stone ready to slip from his grip at any moment. Now, his soul’s surface had changed, the texture was different: there was a slight roughness to it that made it easier to grip.

He paused, surprised, wondering where this new texture had come from. ‘Did those granulations form after my enlightenment? Somehow, I don’t think so…I bet they were always there. I just couldn’t sense them.’

Clutching his soul, he began pumping it, the contractions circulating life energy between his body and spirit in a slow, steady rhythm.

One contraction. Two. Three. Four.

It was as easy as breathing.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

He was nearing the highest number he’d ever done, yet he wasn’t straining to do it, so he kept going.

Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.

It was becoming harder, but he was only one away from his record of fifteen, and there was no sign of his spirit slipping from his grasp.

Fifteen…sixteen…seventeen.

The grain on his soul was slipping from his grip.

Nineteen…twenty…

He clenched his teeth: his soul was sliding free.

Twenty…one…

And finally, his spirit slipped away on that last contraction.

Excitement soared in him.

“Twenty-one!” he cried, his voice echoing through the dream. “That’s six more than my record!”

He grinned, pride swelling in his chest.

“I’m still a long way from being able to do it constantly like Polla said,” he cracked his neck. “But I’ll get it. Okay, for now, let’s try Life Energy Circulation while moving.”

He got to his feet and closed his eyes, changing The Realm in Dream to the bank of the Bear’s Head Pond. He opened his eyes, finding the area oddly desolate. In his dream realm he found no pine trees, no brush or bushes around the pond. He found no fish or water plants floating in the water, only a pond as still as glass, spreading out among the bare stone.

Matthias faced the pond, taking a breath and gripping his soul.

Then, he took a step forward, trying to contract his spirit at the same time…

…and cursed when it slipped from his grasp.

“Damn!” he swore. “Again!”

He took another slow step forward.

His soul slipped from his grasp again.

“By the gods!” he panted. His spiritual body was covered in a cool sweat, and his limbs were shaking. “That was tough!” He sat by the pond, breathing deeply to recover his strength. Trying to circulate his life energy while moving, was one of the most draining things he’d ever attempted.

After a time, he recovered, stood up and tried again.

Another pair of failures and he collapsed, needing to catch his breath. 

He stood again, trying again and collapsing again.

He repeated the process, getting winded each time, recovering after a time to try again.

And again.

And again.

For hours, Matthias paced around Bear’s Head Pond, trying to contract his soul. Hour after hour, he tried and failed, dropping to the ground or leaning against a rock to recover his strength.

Finally, he threw up his hands. 

“This is impossible! It’s complete madness!” His complaints echoed through the Realm in Dream. “Maybe this might work after I solidify my foundation—I bet my soul would be easier to grip then—but as I am now? There’s no way! She’s out of her mind.”

He grumbled in frustration.

This was the first time, since he’d started training with Altaizar, that he’d been given an exercise that didn’t come easily.

He’d learned Soul Breathing quickly.

He’d learned Life Energy Circulation quickly, even if it was taking longer to master.

He was learning the foundation of the Way of Stone quickly.

But this? This was like running headlong into a tin wall repeatedly and never even denting it.

“Ugh!” He threw himself down on the ground, grumbling. “There’s got to be a better way to do this.” Matthias crossed his arms in front of him, head bent, brow furrowed. “Perhaps I’m going about things the wrong way. Maybe I’m trying too hard.”

Sur Friya, had long ago, warned her trainees about overtraining.

“If you push yourself to your limit without resting or if you keep driving your body after it starts to fail,” she’d lectured her students many times throughout the years. “Then all you’ll do is tear yourself apart. Rest when you need to and only take on training that your body can handle. Challenge yourself to a healthy limit: the sword that bends will snap back into shape. The sword that breaks will remain broken and might never be fixed again.”

He missed her already.

“Maybe I’m taking on too much of a challenge in the beginning. I should work my way up to circulating life energy while walking,” he said. “Polla told me that I had to practise while doing a physical activity. I’ve tried walking already, maybe talking might be easier?”

Matthias tried circulating his life energy while speaking: “Earl Jan Eklund is a greasy, mangy dog who’s so nasty that even fleas don’t want him.”

He failed.

Not only did he fail, but he failed spectacularly, the attempt was so exhausting that he toppled over after one try. Minutes passed before he recovered.

He tried saying something simpler: “Way of Stone.”

His soul slipped from his grasp immediately, and the exhaustion was bone deep.

This wasn’t working.

“If anything, trying to circulate while talking is even harder than while walking. But why?” he wondered aloud. “Moving my mouth is a lot easier than moving my legs…isn’t it? Or maybe not. When I walk, I just put one foot in front of the other. I have to keep my balance, sure, but when I talk, I have to move my mouth, facial muscles, tongue and think of the words I want to say.”

He frowned.

“Maybe that’s the problem: both walking and talking are complex. I shouldn’t be starting with complex. I should be starting with simple. Let’s see…what’s the simplest movement I can think of? Lifting my arm? I don’t think so…I know!”

He raised a single finger.

“One finger. I’ll start with trying to move one finger while circulating.”

Concentrating, he gripped his soul, beginning to wiggle his index finger slowly.

He strained his focus to the limit, carefully trying to contract his spirit, all the while wiggling that single finger. His first attempt failed, but he was nowhere near as tired this time.

He also needed less rest before he could try again; his next attempt went better.

He tried again.

And again.

After an hour of single-minded focus…

His soul contracted while he wiggled a single finger, sending a flood of energy rushing between his body and soul.

“Yes!” he wheezed. “Finally!”

His head spun, body aching as though he’d run a hundred leagues, but a rush of success was coursing through him.

“Next? Two fingers,” he said. “I—”

That strange feeling suddenly came over him: like he was being watched.

He turned around, his eyes scanning the bare rock and soil of The Realm in Dream. Noone else was around.

“Polla said that some creatures in the world have power over shadow and death,” he whispered. “Maybe there are things that can enter dreams? Could I face something like that?”

His eyes kept scanning the shadows and mist in the distance...soon, the feeling of being watched faded.

“Something to talk to Mistress Polla about,” he said. “If she already knows about my shadow, then I might as well ask her more questions when I get the chance. And maybe that chance will here soon.”

He could feel The Realm in Dream shifting, falling away.

He was waking up.

###

The young greatfolk opened his eyes.

Low light shone in the carriage, revealing most of its passengers sound asleep. The sellswords were curled up or sprawled out on the benches, cloaks pulled tightly around them.

Dagma was nestled against Beggahasta, who was leaning back in her seat, eyes closed, hand gripping Tallis. Bregindoure took up much of the back corner, his enormous body propped against the wall.

At the front of the carriage, the curtains around one of the beds were closed—likely Ellian’s--while Polla was at the table, her face buried in a book the size of some shields. The young greatfolk watched the black robed mage as she read; her large eyes scanning quickly, taking in every line of text in front of her.

Now and then, she would pause, taking a quick note.

“Right…” she muttered, scribbling away with a large, feather quill. “How long have you been awake?”

Her grey eyes shot up to meet Matthias’.

He flinched like a guilty child caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

“I just woke up,” he whispered, standing up and stretching. He tiptoed across the room, taking a seat in one of the chairs near her. Matthias glanced at her book but could not understand a single word. “What time of day is it? Are we not stopping to camp?”

“No need,” she said. “We should arrive by daybreak.”

Matthias startled. “Daybreak? We just left. Mother said that it’s twenty days from Barrowgate with a good horse.”

“There are few horses in this world that can match the speed of clouds bound by my will and The Gift.” Her voice held a proud edge. “And we are moving nowhere near close to the greatest speed we are capable of.”

“But…twenty days’ travel in a few hours…by the Ascended,” he whispered, awestruck.

“Powerful mages, dragons, and other creatures can cross distances at speeds that most mortals fail to even comprehend. We have passed over two kingdoms in High Evalemera, and many villages, castles and towns...” Polla said. Something in her eyes changed. “Had you woken earlier, you would have seen us pass Jarnkhanyn.”

Matthias stiffened.

He knew the name ‘Jarnkhanyn’ well: one of the largest cities in the north, home to a fortress that had never been breached in all of High Evalmera’s bloody history.

That fortress was named Castle Dramagnus, Matthias’ former home when he was very young...and the current home of the Archlord, the most powerful man in Evalmera, next to the High King.

The current home of Eaderic Dramagnus, Matthias’ father.

The young greatfolk grimaced. “I’m glad I didn’t see it.”

Polla cocked her head. “You do not miss it at all?” she asked. “I find the heart always craves for home, no matter how many years pass.”

He glowered. “I hardly remember it, and I don’t consider it my home. Maybe I would if my father didn’t cast me aside like rubbish. Maybe I would if he didn’t cut my mother and brother away like rotted flesh. Maybe I would if he didn’t constantly try and claim my little sister because she’d be useful to him. Maybe...there’s a lot of maybes, but I consider Barrowgate my home.”

Polla looked at him for a long time. “Your home is where your fondest memories lie. That can be anywhere, and home can always be with you.”

"You might be right," he said, thinking of the Realm in Dream. He glanced over at the sleeping sellswords. “I have a question for you about...well, I’ll ask you later. When we have less company.”

He briefly wondered what Polla had hired the sellswords to do, but supposed everyone was entitled to their secrets.

“I see. Yes, you can ask me later: we will be at Dagger Rock soon,” she said. “Likely within the hour. Would you wake the others?”

“Alright.” Matthias stood up.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if his father had been asleep when they passed over his castle. Or would he have been awake, looking through one of the windows from an impossibly tall tower, watching as a black carriage flew past the white moon.

Matthias shook the thought away.

It really did not matter.

They were on their way to new adventures and new places while his father was left in his castle.

Left behind them in his city.

###

“He’s here?” Eklund choked.

“Indeed, my lord,” the earl’s servant’s voice shook as he bowed low. Moonlight poured through the window, illuminating his trembling body. “I-I apologise! We were just informed! He has already passed through the gate!”

The earl shook, terror coursing through him. “His letter mentioned nothing about this! By the Ascended, help me dress, man! I must receive him—” 

A rapping sounded at the chamber door, driving the earl into silence.

The knocking was firm enough to rattle the door on its hinges.

“Open up!” a voice barked. “Open up in the name of the Archlord!”

###

Author's Note

My family member that proofreads these chapters kept dying laughing when reaching that last part.

Cya tomorrow!