Two weeks had passed since Kese had first visited the monk and the old lady on the mountain. In this time he had been watching Tas working, while sucking in every little knowledge about forging and wisdom from the man himself. He had to learn with his eyes and ears – because he still wasn't allowed to practice this craft yet.

During his lessons he noticed something regarding his "extra experiences". Every time he saw those ghosts, his wound started to hurt and/or bleed. The more complex the actual vision the more it bled, and this was often forecasted or followed by headaches. He was relieved he had realized this though, and so was Lehel. They didn't have to worry about this kind of unpredictable surprises any more: until Kese had those visions, his wound would bleed occasionally. Therefore he always wore bandages around his waist and the doctor agreed to supply him with enough of them, in exchange for some help, such as carrying his stuffs from the docks to the his house, delivering medicines to the villagers, fetching some herbs from the monks etc. He was allowed to do physical work because it didn't affect his wound at all, they had tested it. Despite of this Kese himself wasn't enough to convince Tas about it, so he asked Lehel for help. Their combined efforts made the blacksmith agree to begin his practices in a week, just to be safe.

When he wasn't at the workshop or at home, or running errands to the doctor, he was either wandering on the island or spending his time at the stables. He had already taken his first lessons in riding and archery, and he enjoyed both of them. It didn't matter he had fallen off the horse multiple times when he tried to mount it, but he got used to it and had been progressing quickly. Dombi's bow however made him sweat. It was hard to draw the string back to his body, harder than he had expected, and with a reason. The man's bows were reflex bows, approximately symmetrical ones, made out of high quality materials. An experienced archer could shoot up to 300-400 metres with them, and in shorter distance its arrows were not only fast as hell, but they were capable of piercing through someone's armour. When Kese was told this, he was taken aback by the weapon he had been holding in his hands. Aside from practising, those bows were used only at rare hunting events on the island, and in Dombi's unique shows. The man had made quite a business with his horses and archery style in the neighbouring islands.

He had his sister's help and skills in it as well, and she often took part in these shows. Her name was Emese*, and she was definitely the most independent spirit amongst the Magors he had ever known. The woman was twelve years younger than Dombi and was the mother of Ákos. She was a brashly young, only twenty-five years old, beautiful falconer with nice face, long dark hair, sharp tongue and strong will. She was ready to do anything for her family and her son, but also liked to enjoy her life. The blond did not know what to think when he was under her unmistakable glances...

She was like a mother for her nephew, too. Karcsa had lost his when he was five, and his father had remained his only family. Around that time, Emese had been away from the island. She had left it when she got fifteen, and returned after her twentieth birthday with her almost three years old son. The villagers eyed her for months, whispering wicked things, trying to find out what had happened to her. But, in the end, their talks had calmed down and life had been going on in its usual course, almost exactly like before. Since then only a few events had disturbed their peace: the pirates' "visits", Botond's death, a smaller tsunami - which hadn't caused much damage- and Kese's arrival shortly after that.

On a cold but sunny afternoon, the blond was chopping logs with Tas. Well, the blacksmith were chopping logs, and his apprentice was carrying them into the workshop and the kitchen. Kese just returned to the man when he noticed Ákos and Karcsa next to him. Latter one was arguing for something, and miraculously he won. Kese took a mental note to ask him how he had managed to do that, right before the blacksmith turned to him. – You can go with them if you want.

The blond blinked, not knowing what's going on. The boys smirked and waved him to follow them. Then they started running. They were fast, but so was Kese: he was glad that after his healing his body became strong and agile. This indicated he was well-trained before he got the wounds. And because of this deep inside he was afraid Emiko had been right.

It didn't take long for him to catch up to the boys. They were running together on the remaining distance right towards the forest, until they reached a clearing amongst the trees. They were painting heavily, but Kese was less exhausted. – We are here! – Ákos grinned, and the blond noticed a few other Magor boys in a circle not far from them. Every one of them was around twelve or thirteen, the oldest was Karcsa with fourteen. He didn't look that old because he was a little shorter than the rest of them.

They greeted each other, and Kese recognized some from the village. A few minutes later Karcsa told him why he was led there. They had a little gang and they offered him to join. He asked him what it would mean. – Well, when we are together, we usually climb the cliffs or dive, but mostly we spar or practice archery and swordplay. We call it Baranta*.

- Wait, swordplay?

- Yes, but we only have wooden swords. – Ákos pouted.

'That's more than enough. Children's hands have to stay away from real swords', Kese thought, asking himself how on earth he was so sure about this. Like he had held a sword before...

- It's not some kind of childish play with long sticks. – Karcsa stated seriously, seeing the blond's frown. - We do not only swing around our swords, but we do it a way we had learnt from the adults.

- What? Who taught you these things? – Kese asked enraged.

- Well, we have learnt the Tug* Baranta from Botond and Tas. – the blond's coal eyes grew wide hearing those names. – Men of the blacksmith family were always those who passed this on to the next generation. But Tas doesn't want to teach us, since... Do you know about Botond?

Kese nodded. – I know what happened to him.

- Since he... passed away, Tas' been refusing to give us more lessons.

The blond crossed his arms, nodding more. – I understand.

- How? I don't! – Ákos whined. He was so naive and ignorant, but wasn't alone with this: the other boys thought the same. Only Karcsa could see the reason of the blacksmith's refusal. 'He is clever and very mature', Kese thought listening to him and recalling their conversations.

- I will explain it again later if you want. – then he turned back to the blond. – So, what do you say?

- I'll give it a try.

Karcsa smirked. – You won't regret it.

- It hurts... It hurts as a goddamned fucking hell... – Kese ground his teeth in agony; he didn't care anymore what language he used to swear. His fist clenched on the bloody pile of rags on his stomach while he was holding onto Emiko's hands. He had known it might not be a good idea, but he had been so stubborn and curious. 'What could happen if I try out how to meld and use my chakra?', he thought a few minutes before. Well, nobody had expected that.

But back to that afternoon: Tas had let him go a few hours earlier because he had lessons at Dombi later that day. The blond had been officially the blacksmith's practising apprentice for three weeks now. It was hard to forge, very hard, but Kese was more than determined to learn it. He only had minor successes so far, but it was enough to encourage him. The constant, intense physical work always drained his energies by the end of the day, and he sometimes fell asleep at the table while eating dinner.

Anyway, he went to the stables, but Dombi, the boys and the horses weren't there, only Emese. She was practicing with one of her birds. – He is a saker falcon, silly. – she laughed when Kese asked what kind of eagle that was. – He is the most graceful of our symbols.

'Of course, the Magors' symbols', the blond thought, remembering something like a miraculous deer, and the Turul from the mountain's name, which was a bird too. – Wait, the Turul? – he asked dumbfounded. Emese chuckled.

- Yes. The Turul is our mythical bird. It's the symbol of power, strength, and nobility. I've heard several theories of its true form, some say it was rather a vulture or a hawk; but I prefer to believe, it was a saker falcon. They might be small in size, but... – she sighed, taking in the beauty of the vigilant bird resting on her left arm. – I love them.

The falcon had been eyeing Kese since he had first spotted him. – I think he doesn't like me.

Emese laughed at this. – That could be. In my opinion, he sees you as a rival falcon and wants to know how to treat you.

The blond snorted at this, and the bird started to shriek and flap his wings: as if he wanted the boy to go away. After Kese waited another half hour and the others were still nowhere near the stables, he left and headed towards the abbey. He became a frequent visitor because he still run errands to Lehel and he liked chatting with Ince and Emiko. That afternoon he went to see the old lady.

Although he was sceptical about her stories he gladly welcomed them. In the last few occasions she had spoken more about the countries, about their enormous and powerful creatures, the Tailed Beasts, and a little about how to control chakra. He had learnt the theory of a very simple technique: the Henge, in which his body took the form and look of another one's. She told him what to do, how to do and what he should feel. He concentrated, he tried, and he felt himself doing it right: as he was told and as he was used to do it. But something went wrong and now he was lying on the floor, his large wound hurting and bleeding like never. Emiko had already sent Ince to Lehel for help and she stayed with him to keep him conscious. He had lost a lot of blood, and he felt himself slumping into some kind of mute fogginess.

It was dark when he opened his eyes. He felt a bed under his frame and saw Rozi sitting at its edge. She was blankly staring out of the window, while her fingers were stroking his hand. He moved his arm a little and whispered. – Hey...

His mouth was very dry. But his "mother" was more than happy to see him awake. He could see Tas' angry, but worried and relieved face too, as he entered the room. Rozi's hug was tight and her tears watered his shirt slowly.

The blond there promised her to never mess with chakra. Never again.

Pronounciation:
Emese: [ ɛmɛʃɛ ]
Baranta: [ bɒrɒntɒ ]
Tug: [ tᴜg ]

I received a question about the Magors' culture: it's based on the traditional Hungarian culture and lifestyle on the Hungarian countryside in the previous centuries.

Baranta is a historical and traditional Hungarian martial art, and it involves a wide variety of different fighting styles from archery to swordplay. Weapons used: 'kelevéz' and 'kopja' (different kind of spears), whip, shield, 'fokos' (shephard's axe), knife, short and long sticks, 'fustély' (also a kind of sticks), bow, sabre and sword; and the fighters' own bare hands. Baranta has two branches: a 'footsoldier' and a mounted Baranta. Latter requires a high level of cooperation from both the rider and his/her horse: steering and fighting without using any harness. It's called 'Ráró-Baranta'; the other's called originally 'Thug-Baranta'. I deliberately changed it to 'Tug' because of the meaning of 'thug' in English; although the pronounciation is different. The mentioned reflex bows are also traditional Hungarian bows.

By the way, Baranta is not a dead martial art. It's still practised in the Carpathian Basin and Mountains: in Hungary, Romania, Slovakia and Serbia. Maybe you can find out more by browsing the net - and not only about Baranta. :)

I intend to keep using Hepburn romanization for Japanese names, and Hungarian alphabet for Magor names.

Chapter updated: 09. 12. 2014.

Oh, and you've finished reading Sequence 1. Thanks for reading!