To Save a World Ch. 06

Aaron paused. There was a lot of things he didn't get about their current conversation, but he focused on just one. "Why are we doing this again?"

"You need to learn to feel pain, master. You need to learn how to take it."

"Why, exactly?"

"Learning how to take an opponent's attack is one of the most fundamental principles in fighting."

'Oh, that actually made a little bit of sense.' The young man thought. "So you're going to teach me how to dodge? Deflect punches, and stuff?"

"No, I'm just going to beat you down. Now stand up." The old hunter was as good as his word, and he strolled to the cleared space beside the great hall. Although the clearing was only a couple of feet across, the ground there was firm and cleared of any obstacles. Trasnu stood there expectantly.

'It's a perfect place to be beaten up on, I guess.' Aaron looked around nervously. Lydia looked as surprised and wary as he was, their daily routine disrupted by this new development. Serche, on the other hand, nonchalantly avoided his eyes. She busied herself with preparing the group's breakfast. The young man hesitantly followed.

"I'm afraid we're going to have some alteration on our daily routines from now on, master." Trasnu explained as he made his way over. "From now on, every morning until the high-noon will be intensive instruction on battle and survival crafts. The Shaman and I will alternate between the two of you, and it's your turn for battle training today -- which means Lydia will be with Serche for survival craft and magic. We will exchange students tomorrow.

Regardless of the morning schedule, the afternoon will be taken up by intensive preparation; mostly gathering and preserving food, but also processing raw materials into useful tools."

"Oh, so we're shifting to high gear then."

Trasnu cocked his head, Aaron belatedly realized that he would not understand the analogy. "The past incident has opened my eyes to the reality of the situation." The older man further explained, "We have been too lax because our condition so far has been relatively good, but that can all change in the blink of an eye. Not to mention the seasons. I do not know what magic is in this place, but it has not rained even once so far. This should be impossible -- this is an ancient rainforest, and more than that it was fall when we were released from our bondage. That was at least three tendays by now. We should be entering into the winter season, but we aren't."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Lydia inquired. She turned from her seat under the great hall's shade. "We wouldn't have to deal with the winter in this place of eternal sunshine."

"We don't know that." It was Serche who responded, shaking her head. "It would be another matter entirely if we knew the magic behind it, and can predict the outcomes. As it stands we know nothing about this place or its laws -- a storm might arrive tomorrow for all we know; it would tear into us without any kind of warning whatsoever. We have to be prepared for whatever the forest might have in store for us."

"Exactly," Trasnu agreed. "We are therefore going to cram into you as much knowledge and skills as possible in the shortest amount of time, while also bracing for the worst. I'm afraid our time in this forest won't be as pleasant as before."

Aaron nodded his understanding. "Um, okay. I get that and all, and honestly I have no problem with everything so far. But... for this?" He gestured with his hands, indicating their position. Aaron and Trasnu stood on the clearing face to face. "What are we going to do, exactly?" He nervously inquired.

"For now, I'll start by throwing you to the ground twenty times before the hour is up. Watch properly, Lydia. This is what's going to happen to you tomorrow as well."

And then Old Hunter moved. Aaron couldn't fathom what hit him -- one second he was standing perfectly upright, the next he was staring at the verdant canopy of the forest, his world spinning and his jaw aching. There was a very definite exclamation of alarm coming from Lydia, and other than that he heard a pitiful guttural sound. It took several seconds for him to realize that he was listening to his own involuntary noises of pain. "You punched me!" His words were a little bit slurred, tinged with disbelief.

"One good strike to the jaw. Always reliable. Now, get up -- the hour's running and we still have nineteen more to go." The young man shakily rose to his feet. "Oh, and don't worry about injuries. Serche can heal anything short of ruptured organs."

Lydia's stomach sank lower and lower as she observed Aaron taken to the ground almost as soon as he stood up. Her eyes beheld Trasnu with fear as he punched, threw, tackled and generally disposed of the young man in a ruthlessly efficient manner. For her, what was most terrifying was the fact that the Rakan beastman acted thoroughly nonchalantly -- as if the fact that he was physically disabling his companion to the point of bleeding was just another morning routine.

"Oh, good try on that one." She heard the beastman mention, his tone amiable. "I have to say, master, you're really knowledgeable about this. Utterly inexperienced, though, but that's what we're fixing right now. There, do what you did last time and weave your head around, but don't forget your arms, and keep your feet nimble. And, hup --". The two left jabs that followed broke Aaron's flimsy guard and connected solidly with his face, stinging fast, and then the hunter finished him off with a huge strike from his right fist. Lydia knew the young man was going to crumple, even before it landed. When it hit, Aaron rocked backwards and fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

And it's not as if Aaron wasn't trying. However inexperienced, he certainly wasn't a complete beginner with regards to tactics. He put his hands up to guard his face, his chin tucked in low. His body was in a hunched, ready posture. His knees were bent slightly as if he was about to launch into a run, feet firmly planted in the ground. It impressed Lydia to see her man act like he knew at least a little bit of what he was doing.

Not that it made much of a difference, of course. Trasnu absolutely refused to let up on his grueling pace. It was like watching a mountain cat toy with a little mouse -- the difference in skill was just too glaring. No matter how much Aaron would try to dodge, duck, or back away, Trasnu surged into him like a hammer, an undeniable force that immediately flattens him to the ground.

The young woman fidgeted as Aaron groggily made his way up once again. "Is this really necessary?" She pleaded with Serche with her eyes. The Shaman glanced at her with some discomfort.

"I can't say I know for sure," Serche ventured, "But Trasnu seems to think so. And I trust him."

"Am I going to spar with Trasnu tomorrow, as well?" Lydia asked in a small voice, her dainty fingers toying with the hem of her coarse shirt. In the clearing, Aaron swiped a hand through his nose. It came away bloody. Beside her, Serche looked even more discomfited.

"I... it is all for your own sake, Lydia. You and the master's. Fighting is a fundamental skill, out here in the wilds, and it usually takes years to learn. This is the best way he came up with to squeeze all of his fighting experience into as little time as possible."

Lydia stayed silent, knowing her friend was right. It might not be the best method out there, but it is what's necessary in their dire situation. She just wished it would be less... painful.

"Come," Serche offered, "Let's take our mind off of Trasnu's brutish ways and have breakfast. Trasnu! Master! Breakfast!"

The mealtime was understandably awkward. Aaron shoved food into his mouth almost angrily, simmering with frustration and grimacing from pain afflicted to his body in such a short amount of time. There were still traces of blood below his nose, and various spots on his face were beginning to swell and bloom purple. His expression was a mask of complicated emotions.

Reaching out with her magical senses, she felt her master struggle with roiling anger, confusion, frustration, and hurt. The demon-touched considered making use of her magic to calm his emotions -- surely it would be better for him to keep a level head? But something about it felt wrong, intrusive; she had the feeling the he would not appreciate her efforts. But still, if it was to help him...

She must have made quite a pitiful, conflicted face, because when she caught his eyes he felt the need to smile at her reassuringly. "I'm fine, Lydia. Just a little banged up for the moment."

"I can help with that, master." Serche offered from across the table. "I should be able to heal any minor injury without too much strain."

"Thanks, Serche." Aaron directed a grateful smile at her, which she acknowledged with a formal tilt of her head.

"Hey Lydia, how about we just run away tonight?" The young man offered, conspiratorially. "The both of us wouldn't get punched to death, then, eh?"

"Yes. Not beaten, just eaten." Lydia replied wrinkling her nose at him. She smiled warmly at his attempt to lighten up the conversation, sensing his intention to encourage her.

Aaron chuckled with her. "Or gored. Or stung. Hey, whatever happened to those giant bees that came here before?"

"Wasps. They're worse than bees." Serche corrected. "And I reckon they're exploring other places to hunt for food. There isn't much in the way of game close to us."

"Whoa, they hunt small game? That's pretty fucking terrifying."

Aaron's valiant efforts to dispel the fog of awkwardness worked to keep the discussion flowing, alleviating the uneasy silence that pervaded the group. When examined, the master seemed to have better grasp of himself. He hadn't stopped feeling the negative emotions, Lydia just felt he had accepted it and was determined to overcome it. Like sailing through a stormy sea with a steadfast ship, instead of giving up and drowning. The ease with which he seemed to control his emotions was something that she admired.

True to her word, Serche laid her hands on Aaron right after the group finished their meal. Lydia was amazed to witness the bruises and inflammation on his face disappear, although it happened marginally over a longer period of time than she expected. When they were done, Serche seemed noticeably tired.

"That's it, you're ready to get bruised all over again, master."

Aaron groaned, stretching out his limbs. "You're amazing, but I didn't need to hear that. I know that's exactly what's gonna happen anyway, no need to rub it in."

"As you wish." Serche acceded, a touch of amusement in her voice. "Come, Lydia, our master wishes for his humiliations to remain away from our eyes."

The pair went a little ways from the camp, in a small clearing that barely accommodated their cross-legged positions. In there the sounds of fighting from their male companions were drowned by the buzz of forest; the hums and croaks and strange insect-sounds of life. It was as close to silence as they could get.

"Now, I would not be able to demonstrate for you as much this time, as I spent a large part of my magic healing our master. But for now I think I would like you to practice your magical perception."

Lydia nodded, the activity now incredibly familiar to her, like putting on a favorite shirt. The Shaman guided her through the meditative process, her body awake with the slow burning fire of dusk magic in her veins.

Magical perception was a tricky thing to master, as it involved the contradiction of one of the main principles of her meditation in the first place. To feel the magical energy at your disposal, one has to empty their mind of everything and be in tune with every inch of one's body -- but magical perception required the use of physical eyesight. If the energies you are trying to observe are not your own, you would need to be able to actually see them.

Serche -- and according to her, all Shamanic beastfolk -- have the inherent ability of magical perception. Perhaps due to their extraordinarily heightened senses, perceiving the essence of all things is second nature to them, much like a second kind of eyesight. Lydia envied them. She was not born with the skill, but she was assured that it was something that could be learned with enough practice.

The Shaman described magical energies in terms of 'essences', and 'spirits'. According to Shamanic lore, each individual component of the world has its own distinct 'essence' -- their truest purpose, their most basic nature. The essence of inanimate objects is incredibly simple -- rocks, for example, are just there; their essence is to retain their shape for as long as they could.

Living things are different, their existence a relatively complicated endeavor of living and breeding and spreading their kind. Thinking beings are much more complex still, as thoughts, emotions, motivations, and other non-physical factors come into play. For sentient beings, their essence is as subjective as the shape of their nose.

Collectively, they call all of the essences joined together in a place the 'spirit of things'. The spirit of the forest, for example, is composed of an infinite amount of individual essences of all that is within it, the result something that is far greater than merely the sum of the whole.

Being able to physically witness the essences of individual objects is incredible. It being able to tell which way the wind is blowing only by hearing it on the leaves of trees, or knowing what lies under the murky waters of a deep lake by listening to the sound of the ripples that it makes. Having an intimate knowledge of a small fragment of the spiritual world gives one an insight of its whole.

Simply put, mastering her magical perception might hopefully give Lydia important clues on how to start a fire.

Yet, for her level of skill, she still had trouble mastering the contradiction of keeping one's mind empty while doing one's best to not. As soon as vision registers in her head, the feeling of magic in her veins evaporates into a pitiful puff of smoke blown by the wind.

"Try again," Serche's quiet voice instructed. "Remember to keep your breathing measured, and still your heart. Being of the Dusk, you are much more in touch with your emotions, and thus you experience them more vividly than the rest of us. This is good, as this is your nature, but it makes learning things methodically a little difficult. Nevertheless, your determination is commendable. Try again."

The young woman nodded resolutely. Her little chest rose and fell in deep, even rhythms. Serche observed stoically across from her, cross-legged as Lydia was on the grass, her intricate braids wrapped around her head regally, like a crown. From time to time, she would murmur encouragements and instructions, small reminders for her eager protégé.

She'd never imagined herself being a teacher of the Shamanic arts this early in her life, but she found that she didn't hate it. Even though she often doubted her own abilities to teach, the sweet, red-haired young woman never seemed to find fault with her methods, even though her instincts must be rebelling wildly from Serche's own teaching techniques.

The Shaman felt a little bad for the young woman. Serche herself knows the elation of her own magic, reveled in the joy it brings as she encouraged the essence of living things around her to grow according to her will. Lydia, too, must be aching to spread her wings, with the amazing reserves of power that her small body contains, but alas their situation calls for the mastery of something that is not to their nature. Creatures of the dusk excelled in touching the heart, shaping emotions like pottery. They were not necessarily skilled in making fire.

Lydia huffed loudly from across her. Incredibly observant, the Rakan woman noted the slight angle of her brows, the momentary, miniscule downward turn that appeared on the edges of her little lips, the drooping of her shoulders. It had been hours since they had settled and Lydia meditated, while Serche slowly replenished her magic.

"That's it for today, I think." Serche gently suggested. Lydia exhaled heavily, a huff of air that spoke volumes of frustration. But there was relief there, too, and just a little tinge of guilt. "You did well today. I saw that you almost had it several times."

"I could never hold for more than a heartbeat." Lydia bitterly complained, her cute face pulled into a scowl. The clump of dry grass that was supposed to be the target of their exercise lay unraveled as she poked it apart, as if taking her revenge.

"Well, it has been just three days." The Shaman consoled with a touch to her knee. Lydia wrinkled her face again. Serche knew that it was a serious moment, but she couldn't help but think that the red haired young woman seemed especially adorable this way.

"Hey guys," Aaron's greeting was more like a grunt of pain. Serche had heard him coming from quite a ways off, the young man not bothering to silence his steps. "What're you up to?"

"Lydia is very frustrated by an exercise."

"Aww, that's okay. I know how you feel. We're one in this suffering, okay?" The young man, still standing, reached down to ruffle Lydia's hair. The woman gave him what Serche think was supposed to be a petulantly annoyed look, but it didn't look like she disliked it. Lydia reached a hand and clung to the hem of his shirt, much to Serche's amusement. "What were you trying to do?"

"Practicing her magical perception." Serche replied.

"Making a stupid fire." Lydia replied at the same time. She smiled sheepishly at the Shaman. "Practicing my magical sight so that I could learn basic fire magic."

"Okay," Aaron's eyes danced with amusement. "Since you two seem to be in such an agreement."

"We are." Lydia laughed a little, girlish laugh. Serche could already sense the tension evaporating out of the girl like dew on a hot summer day.

"So what, this magical perception lets you see atoms, or something?" The young man gingerly positioned himself on the ground, the two women shifting their positions so that they formed a triangle with the clump of useless kindling at its middle. Aaron sat to Serche's right, so she had to shuffle a little to the left for a wider space. Battered, he winced with every movement he made, and suddenly Serche realized what he was really there for.

"Oh master," She murmured, her distressed frown like a mother's fussing at her bruised child. "Come here and let me do something about those bruises."

The young man smiled at her gratefully and scooted over, the relief evident in his eagerness. Seeing him sigh as Serche's magic eased him, Lydia spoke the question in her mind. "Atoms, master?"

"Oh, yeah. You were trying to make fire, right? So you're trying to infuse atoms with heat?" He frowned absently and shook his head. "No, scratch that -- the heat is a result of the process, I think. Hmm. I think you'd infuse the atoms with energy, to make a fire?" The question was for the whole group, but he seemed to have missed the fact that both of them were utterly bewildered by what he was talking about.

"Is atom another word for dried grass in your world, Aaron?" Lydia was genuinely curious, her eyes shone with the passive, innocent wonder children had for new, confusing things.

"Oh, no." Aaron seemed surprised, and in the silence he floundered for a bit searching for words to explain the ideas in his head. "Not at all. Atoms are -- hell, atoms are what everything's made of."

"Everything?" Lydia cocked her head, like a bird with its eye on something shiny.

"Yeah, everything. Back in my world..." The young man suddenly seemed self-conscious, his grey eyes flicked to his two companions, as if measuring them with a glance. "Look, this is going to sound pretty ridiculous, but this is reality where I came from. It's just the facts, and there's been a bunch of really clever experiments to prove this back there, and unless the laws of physics has completely forgotten to exist here, then I'm sure it would be the same in this world as well. But I don't really know them well enough to replicate it, and even if I did..."