Chapter Eight: Back to Basics

"Again," the Cleric said impassively.

Avis pursed his lips and concentrated on the lakewater in front of him. He took in a deep breath through his nose, releasing it from his mouth. His mentor had been making learn proper breath control so that he could learn to fully relax his body prior to invoking an element.

Ever since leaving the border city of Aeriose, Jerrod and Avis had been steadily traveling north. They were heading towards Avarrocka, which was located near the northern border of Centralia…the border shared with the Wilderness. In any case, they were traveling up from Centralia's southern border, so it was going to be a rather lengthy trip.

The lush, swampy, lowlands of Centralia's southern reaches gradually turned to thick forest, with trees and plantlife extending out as far as the eye could see. If one were to travel west, towards Centralia's heartlands, the forest would gradually thin out until it turned to a rolling savanna. If one were to continue traveling north, as Avis and Jerrod were doing, the forest would then thin out into even more temperate woodlands, spread out all over the wide, rolling Avarrockan Hills. But the journey would be long, and the change in terrain and environment would be a gradual one.

For now, the teacher and student had stopped for a day or two on the banks of a large lake so they could refill their water supplies. But Jerrod had also found another use for making camp near water; training.

"Water is by no means a non-lethal element," Jerrod explained as he slowly paced back and forth behind the boy. "It is my natural element, and it has gotten me out of many a tight fix during my youth."

"Yes, master," Avis nodded.

"Water is the healing element," the Cleric continued, speaking so that Avis could hear him in the background, but could also concentrate on the water in front of him. "Calmer than Air, calmer than Fire, more flexible than Earth… It is impossible to trap or truly control Water; it will always find a way out of every situation, no matter how small or oddly-shaped. Now concentrate on the water, boy. Raise it."

Avis took another deep breath and spread his hands out, palms down over the water. He concentrated hard on extracting a small amount of water and compressing it into a sphere. The surface of the water rippled and eddied, but nothing came up. Avis gritted his teeth and tried again.

"Feel the energy of the element, boy," Jerrod advised Avis. "Feel it, immerse yourself in it…be one with it. But do not try to control it, for it will always elude your grasp. And relax your stance; you must be as flexible and as free-flowing as water. Water will never be commanded by someone as stiff as a reed."

Avis let out his breath, took another one, and followed Jerrod's advice by loosening his arms and legs, which had started to cramp up. He focused on the water once more. He could feel the energy of the element pulsing just beneath his grasp. Whenever he tried to take that energy, it simply dispersed.

But perhaps if tried a more indirect method…he had the energy of the elements inside of him, so maybe if he could make his Anima Mundi like a sieve of sorts…

Jerrod watched the boy silently attempt to manipulate the water. It was better to get the boy started on these new elements soon, especially Water. He had more than mastered Air during his life in Ullek, and Water was not too far from Air. It was farther from Air than Fire, but it was much closer than Earth.

Of course…it was the polar opposite of Fire, and Jerrod was quite sure that Fire was the boy's natural element. When he had fought the boy with Air back in the swamp, Avis had done exceptionally well…but his fighting style had been more geared towards that of Fire. Unrelenting, rapid, powerful, offensive strikes. Sure, he had occasionally thrown in a block or a defensive stance that was rooted in the art of Earth, but for the most part, his style had been screaming Fire.

Water was much different from the fast-paced, intense fighting style of Fire. Jerrod went on to highlight these differences. "Water is a fluid form, boy; you must treat it as such. Master mages all know that the key to succeeding with Water is to make yourself fluid. Water can never conform to any one shape or style; you must remain fluid in your control over the element, fluid in your movement, fluid in your offense and defense. Use your opponent's energy against him. Do not attack the opponent; attack his weaknesses, and make them become his downfall."

Avis gave a triumphant cry as a large, shaky ball of water rose from the surface of the lake. It was unstable, however, constantly shedding layers like an onion. Avis concentrated on holding the sphere intact, but the more he concentrated, the faster the sphere seemed to deteriorate.

Jerrod was right behind the boy, watching the rapidly-diminishing sphere, resolving to win this particular battle. "You have the power within you, boy!" he encouraged Avis. "You are one with the element! Stop trying to control and conform the water; you will not succeed."

"I'm…trying…" the boy managed to growl, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead as he fought to keep the sphere stable.

"Stop trying," Jerrod pressed on. "Feel the energy within yourself. Stop trying, and just do."

Avis closed his eyes and, feeling the gentle, soothing coolness of the energy of Water inside his soul, relinquished the intense concentration which he had been focusing on the ball of water with. He could feel the energy flowing through him, but he stopped trying to bend it to his will and simply flowed with it…making subtle variances in its path as it flowed on.

The boy realized that controlling Water was nothing like Air, which could be manipulated in almost any way imaginable. Water, unlike Air, had density and volume. It was more solid than Air, which meant that manipulating it was more difficult. To control it, one had to work with the Water, rather than over it. Gradually, he came to see how he had been able to master an element like Air all by himself, but not Water. Air was much more cooperative, while with Water he had to be more flexible.

"Nicely done…nicely done, indeed…"

Avis cracked his eyes open at Jerrod's praise. He saw the older man nodding at him approvingly. Confused, he turned his gaze down to his hands, which he still held over the surface of the water. The boy gave a small start of surprise as he beheld the small sphere of water wobbling in the air between his palms. It had stopped shedding layers, finally stabilizing into a solid ball of water about the size of a clenched fist.

"But…" Avis was confused, because he wasn't actively trying to invoke the element at the moment. "How…?"

"You stopped trying to make the Water your servant," Jerrod explained. "Instead, you made it your partner. You cannot control it…but you can influence and guide it to do your bidding. You will learn a different method for each element as we progress."

"Great…"

"Oh, don't sound so somber, little Mahjarrat," the Cleric chided his pupil. "You'll look back on the whole thing one day with fondness, and you'll find yourself missing my little lessons."

"Assuming we survive this war…"

Jerrod frowned. "That's pessimist talk, and I will have none of it. Come, you have done well. It would take most people over a year to be able to get that sphere, and you went and did it in less than an hour. We'll have you blasting trees with proper water attacks in no time. Perhaps I'll even have time to teach you some healing, depending on how fast you progress. But for now…"

The Cleric gripped Avis's shoulder and hauled the boy to his feet. The orb of water splashed back into the lake from whence it came, losing its shape mid-fall. Jerrod reached into his back and pulled out the two magically-blunted gladius-style shortswords, tossing one of them to Avis.

"Now, let's start with the basics," Jerrod said as he swung and twirled his blade in several pre-battle exercise movements, easing out the kinks in his muscles. "What kind of a sword is this?"

"Gladius," Avis replied, performing several warm-up strokes similar to the Cleric's.

"Characteristics?" Jerrod asked next as he stepped into the attack, starting with a high-guard stance, left foot forward, sword held above the head with both hands. He then brought his gladius sweeping down towards Avis's head.

"Shorter-length…" Avis recited as he sidestepped his mentor's first blow. "Wide blade…double-edged…tapered point…" he continued, dodging another blow as he recounted each feature of the gladius.

"Come, come, boy, you're acting too much like the Air," Jerrod chuckled as Avis evaded a thrust aimed at his stomach. "Dodging, evading, ducking; sooner or later you'll have to change it up, or run the risk of having the opponent be able to anticipate," as he said that last word, he inverted his next thrust, which turned out to be nothing more than a feint, and ended up slamming Avis in the gut with the flat of his blade.

The boy stumbled, clasping a hand to his stomach as he fought to regain his breath. He had barely any time to do so, however, as Jerrod's next strike came whistling towards him less than a second later.

Avis, not having the strength at that moment to leap away, instead whipped up his own shortsword in a hasty defense, meeting Jerrod's blade with a resounding clang.

"A block borne of reflex," Jerrod observed, pushing Avis back. "You'll have to do better than that, boy; there are at least four different ways I could have slipped past that block."

"Then why didn't you?" Avis growled, getting weary of his mentor's nonchalance. He stepped forward, switching to a one-handed grip and raining a quick series of blows against Jerrod's guard.

"Simple," the Cleric replied as he calmly deflected every single one of Avis's attacks. "Those countermoves would have killed you, and you can't exactly end this war if you're pushing up daisies."

Avis swung at one of Jerrod's legs, but the Cleric moved that foot back and switched his gladius to his left hand, completely reversing his defense and throwing Avis off-rhythm.

Avis reciprocated, quickly tossing his blade over to his left hand and resuming the fight. Since their first day of training, Jerrod had been drilling the boy in the use of both hands; he was equally as good with his left as he was with his right.

"Advantages of the gladius," Jerrod gestured for Avis to continue, ducking a thrust aimed for his neck.

"Lighter than broadswords or full-length blades," Avis grunted, deflecting a backhanded undercut and stepping out for a counterstroke. "Good for thrusting and bypassing shields…stronger blade than that of a longsword…" the boy continued to list the advantages of a shortsword as he traded blows with his mentor.

Finally, teacher and student locked blades, standing barely a handsbreadth apart in a test of strength against each other.

"Next lesson…" Jerrod, who was having no trouble holding Avis in check, said as they pushed against each other's blades. "When in a lock like this, your opponent will not simply push until you are utterly spent…he will still act."

The Cleric continued to press against Avis's blade, but he gave a sudden jerk forward with his own gladius, bringing the hilt up, around, and into Avis's face. It slammed against his jaw, making the boy see stars for the precious few moments he had before the wall of pain shot into his brain.

Avis was knocked off his feet. His gladius thudded into the earth point-down and the boy clutched at his face, groaning in pain.

"The blade is not the only part of a sword, boy," Jerrod highlighted his latest lesson, tapping the hilt of his gladius. The Cleric then frowned as Avis didn't say anything in reply, but continued to clasp his mouth in pain. "Oh, dear me, I seem to have broken your jaw…"

There had been broken bones resulting from Jerrod and Avis's sparring sessions in the past; the magically blunted blades prevented death, but they didn't prevent blunt force trauma.

Jerrod hooked his arms under Avis's and dragged him over to the shore of the lake. The Cleric streamed a coil of water out of the lake's surface, pressed it into a sphere, and flattened it into a flapjack-like state. The Cleric closed his eyes and began to infuse himself into the Water energy. The circle of water began to glow and sparkle, as if there were a bright light burning under it.

The water settled onto Avis's face and flowed into his mouth, forming almost a cast of sorts around the boy's jaw. Avis shifted uncomfortably as his broken jawbone reset and refused itself. It didn't hurt too much, but it certainly wasn't a warm and fuzzy experience.

"Agh…" Avis worked his jaw around, cautiously at first, and then with more vigor, making sure everything was in place. He then cast a baleful glance in the direction of the Cleric. "I should hate your guts, right now. I really should," he said.

"When you master the blade, you shall be able to incur similar wounds on me," Jerrod assured the boy. "But to do that, you must continue sparring with me…and I'm afraid that will mean more injury."

Avis spat a globule of blood out of his mouth, the only trace of his injury after the successful healing. "Believe me, I look forward to it."

"But you have to admit, this is so much more effective than those jokes they call battleschools for squires seeking to become knights," Jerrod admonished, picking his gladius back up. "You're half the age of some of the brawn you'd find in those places, but you've shown twice the amount of backbone."

"How many of those squires do you suppose are Mahjarrat?"

"Point taken," Jerrod conceded the boy's point. "But still…all they do is drill and drill with wooden swords at these wooden posts and straw dummies. Now, how are they going to learn how to parry an overhead strike by hacking away at a log? How are they going to avoid getting smashed in the face by a sword hilt if their opponent is an inanimate object?"

Avis massaged his jaw once more before plucking his gladius out of the ground, rubbing the dirt off of the tip, getting ready to engage his mentor once more.

"Their whole system is so bloody pointless. If the trainees don't get bloodied up by their instructors every once in a while, they don't get it ingrained in their minds that the battle they're fighting in is real. The majority of deaths on a battlefield are from men fresh out of training who think their enemy will be defeated by a simple attack pattern, and then they get slapped in the face by reality. Or rather, stabbed in the gut by it…" Jerrod thrust his sword point forward, aiming at the general vicinity of Avis's chest.

Avis did not sidestep the attack, as was customary for him. Instead, he switched to a two-handed grip and brought the hilt up to around his head with the blade pointing down diagonally. As he did this, he stepped out of the path of Jerrod's thrust, but his gladius remained in place to meet the attack.

The two blades met with another resounding clang. Before Jerrod could bring his blade back, Avis slid his gladius under the Cleric's blade, quickly working it up and around his mentor's guard, twisting his own blade around the Cleric's.

Jerrod gave a grunt of surprise as his blade was nearly torn from his grasp. Just for the sake of teaching, his first move to counter Avis's twist was to grasp his gladius with both hands and move with his student's twist, bringing the grip of the gladius up and around in a beeline for Avis's head.

Avis saw it coming this time, though, and was able to duck. The hilt of Jerrod's gladius brushed his hair, but it missed his face. Avis pulled his blade back and thrust it forward at the Cleric as he ducked, but the gladius ended up stabbing only empty air.

Jerrod, having stepped far enough around to find himself beyond the scope of Avis's guard, swung his gladius about and struck Avis on the back of the head with the flat of his blade.

Avis stumbled forward several paces. He recovered his balance, turned back around, and threw himself back into the duel with renewed vigor, his frustration beginning to build as Jerrod seemed to effortlessly block every single move he made. However, he was beginning to match the Cleric blow for blow; Jerrod wasn't able to toy with him anymore.

"Mm…you're getting angry," Jerrod observed. "That's good. Use that emotion, boy; don't let it use you."

Jerrod found himself surprised by the boy's anger-fueled style of fighting as he was slowly forced to go on the defensive. Blow after blow rained down on his guard, at some points seeming to come from virtually all angles at the same time.

Avis finally managed to score a hit as his blade sliced across the Cleric's leg, bruising it and making him temporarily lose balance. The boy seized the opportunity, kicking his mentor in the gut so that he would fall flat on his back.

Jerrod went down, grunting as he hit the back of his head on the ground.

Avis grasped his gladius with both hands and inverted it so that it was facing point-down. He then sidled over to his mentor's side and raised it. However, Jerrod struck with the speed of an angered viper. He still had his gladius in his hand, and as Avis prepared to give the final blow, he suddenly rolled forward and thrust his gladius forward under Avis's raised guard, ramming the point of his sword into the boy's stomach.

Avis wasn't actually skewered by the blade. The invisible magical barriers covering the gladius stopped anything from coming closer than half an inch to the actual edges of the blades, so to Avis it felt like getting struck by a wooden club. Still, it was enough to knock the wind out of him and take him off his feet.

Avis hit the ground without a sound. He simply clutched at his bruised stomach now, his chest heaving for breath.

"You sacrificed your guard for a killing stroke," Jerrod rasped as he pulled himself into a sitting-up position. "Big no-no. Your enemy is not defeated until he is disarmed."

"I…I think I got the gist of that, thank you…" Avis gasped.

"Good…" Jerrod got up to his knees and crawled over to where his student lay, helping him up. "I think that's enough training for today…here, help me get a fire started. After dinner, I want you to practice entering the Ondr."

Avis limped towards the woods next to his mentor, gradually regaining his breath. "Did you really have to hit me that hard?"

"I could have softened the blow, yes," Jerrod confessed. "But because I hit you hard like that, the likelihood of you repeating that mistake is much, much lower. During our second bout, for instance, you ducked that sword hilt strike rather nicely…much better than you would have if I had gone easy on you during our first bout."

"Still…" Avis muttered reproachfully between coughs, reaching down to pick up a handful of dried twigs. "It's not very fun."

That warranted an amused bout of laughter from the Cleric. "Why, of course not! If you were enjoying yourself, I'd be doing something terribly wrong."