23rd Day of Summer, 486 AD
Sitting still was growing uncomfortable, so Halvar shifted his weight. The motion dug into the sand and did little to improve his situation. The familiar smell of sea air permeated his nostrils, and the absence of a strong wind made it possible to listen to the tide as it lapped against the shore.
"Halvar, be looking at my eyes when I am speaking," snapped his mother in almost-fluent Common. Unlike her son, she was raised speaking Vani in Avanthal, so her Common wasn't perfect. Squinting against Syna's glare, Halvar turned his attention away from the horizon. His mother was frowning, a facial expression she seemed particularly fond of during his lessons. Her hands were balled into fists and positioned firmly on her hips. The whole thing was more than a little intimidating.
"Yes, mama," Halvar gently replied in Vani, playing on one of his mother's soft spots. He was honestly surprised when her stern, yellows eyes flashed red.
"Do not be making the games with me. Listen!" Under his mother's forceful glare, Halvar immediately straightened his back and locked eyes with his mother. She held his gaze for a long moment, eventually nodding when she was satisfied he would take things seriously.
"You are making the progress in the flux," Halvar's mother said. Her words were slow. Deliberate. It were as if she was taking time to properly consider every syllable, so that there would be no misunderstandings. Halvar was familiar with the tone, for it was one he heard often; the lesson had begun.
"You are making the progress, yes. But you are lacking the control. Today we practice this." The flux. Halvar's father had called it magic, but his mother had another word for it: tool. Mercenaries tended to be large, lumbering brutes with more muscle than sense. Halvar's mother had learnt the flux to even the playing field, and she was determined to pass what she knew down to her son. Put simply, the flux enabled a practitioner to enhance their physical capabilities to supernatural levels. Of course, as Halvar was quick to learn, the flux was anything but simple.
"First, close eyes," she instructed, intending to talk Halvar through the process. He was quick to comply, and focused on his breathing: in through the nose, and out through the mouth. Sitting with his legs crossed in the sand, Halvar heard the gentle footfalls of his mother as she started to slowly circle him. She'd be watching him carefully, he knew, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.
"Very good. Now, be visualising the flux as I have been teaching you." It was a difficult process, and Halvar still struggled with the concept behind it. So far as he understood it, the flux involved manipulation of his djed pathways. His mother had explained djed as his essence, or life energy. Everything had it. When he ate a rabbit, he was consuming its djed, adding it to his own. When he died, his djed would return to the earth, help a plant a grow, and that plant would be eaten by a rabbit, or squirrel, or anything really. Everything was connected. Halvar found himself really liking the idea, even if if he still didn't understand it properly. A small piece of himself suspected that no one did, not really.
Visualising his djed pathways was a difficult process, and one that Halvar struggled with. It wasn't impossible for him though, not any more. At first, he lacked the focus needed to touch the flux. For over half a year his efforts bore no fruit, and more than once he'd considered giving up. He was just stubborn enough to stick with it though, and his hard work eventually paid off. Using the flux required awareness of one's own body, so Halvar mentally sculpted himself in his head. Starting with the bones, then the muscles, the organs, blood and skin. Everything. His knowledge of anatomy was fledgling at best, but his model didn't come from knowledge, it came from feeling. It was the same feeling that guided him in placing the djed pathways. They weaved through his body like an elaborate spider web, pulsing with a warm, blue glow. The flux.
Sitting still was growing uncomfortable, so Halvar shifted his weight. The motion dug into the sand and did little to improve his situation. The familiar smell of sea air permeated his nostrils, and the absence of a strong wind made it possible to listen to the tide as it lapped against the shore.
"Halvar, be looking at my eyes when I am speaking," snapped his mother in almost-fluent Common. Unlike her son, she was raised speaking Vani in Avanthal, so her Common wasn't perfect. Squinting against Syna's glare, Halvar turned his attention away from the horizon. His mother was frowning, a facial expression she seemed particularly fond of during his lessons. Her hands were balled into fists and positioned firmly on her hips. The whole thing was more than a little intimidating.
"Yes, mama," Halvar gently replied in Vani, playing on one of his mother's soft spots. He was honestly surprised when her stern, yellows eyes flashed red.
"Do not be making the games with me. Listen!" Under his mother's forceful glare, Halvar immediately straightened his back and locked eyes with his mother. She held his gaze for a long moment, eventually nodding when she was satisfied he would take things seriously.
"You are making the progress in the flux," Halvar's mother said. Her words were slow. Deliberate. It were as if she was taking time to properly consider every syllable, so that there would be no misunderstandings. Halvar was familiar with the tone, for it was one he heard often; the lesson had begun.
"You are making the progress, yes. But you are lacking the control. Today we practice this." The flux. Halvar's father had called it magic, but his mother had another word for it: tool. Mercenaries tended to be large, lumbering brutes with more muscle than sense. Halvar's mother had learnt the flux to even the playing field, and she was determined to pass what she knew down to her son. Put simply, the flux enabled a practitioner to enhance their physical capabilities to supernatural levels. Of course, as Halvar was quick to learn, the flux was anything but simple.
"First, close eyes," she instructed, intending to talk Halvar through the process. He was quick to comply, and focused on his breathing: in through the nose, and out through the mouth. Sitting with his legs crossed in the sand, Halvar heard the gentle footfalls of his mother as she started to slowly circle him. She'd be watching him carefully, he knew, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.
"Very good. Now, be visualising the flux as I have been teaching you." It was a difficult process, and Halvar still struggled with the concept behind it. So far as he understood it, the flux involved manipulation of his djed pathways. His mother had explained djed as his essence, or life energy. Everything had it. When he ate a rabbit, he was consuming its djed, adding it to his own. When he died, his djed would return to the earth, help a plant a grow, and that plant would be eaten by a rabbit, or squirrel, or anything really. Everything was connected. Halvar found himself really liking the idea, even if if he still didn't understand it properly. A small piece of himself suspected that no one did, not really.
Visualising his djed pathways was a difficult process, and one that Halvar struggled with. It wasn't impossible for him though, not any more. At first, he lacked the focus needed to touch the flux. For over half a year his efforts bore no fruit, and more than once he'd considered giving up. He was just stubborn enough to stick with it though, and his hard work eventually paid off. Using the flux required awareness of one's own body, so Halvar mentally sculpted himself in his head. Starting with the bones, then the muscles, the organs, blood and skin. Everything. His knowledge of anatomy was fledgling at best, but his model didn't come from knowledge, it came from feeling. It was the same feeling that guided him in placing the djed pathways. They weaved through his body like an elaborate spider web, pulsing with a warm, blue glow. The flux.
