Book 4: Chapter 2 - Time's Up (RAW)

Chapter 2 - Time’s Up

Grasp the essence of the principles deeply, but wield them with the fluidity of water, ever-changing and adaptable.

- The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC.

And so it continued. On and on, a litany of advice and physical education that did not end. The tiniest of details were scrutinized over, from the very way I stood to how much I leaned forward. I was taught a myriad of stances and forms with just as many exotic and mysterious names. 

They were however rather fancy sounding, with such examples as Parting the Silk and the Beggar’s Ruse. Though I had no idea why they were sometimes named such, I was made to know full well all of their functions and applications.

Parting the Silk was used to snake through an opponent guard, a series of tapping and pulling motions that opened up an opponent’s center line. Beggar’s Ruse was used to give the opponent an opening, inviting them into my circle and allowing for a swift counterattack.

And circle. Fen would yap continuously about a ‘circle,’ the space in which I could control things. She would have me do exercises to judge distance, incessantly quizzing me on whether I was an action I did was in my ‘circle.’ It was just this world’s term for ‘measure,’ I concluded to myself.

She wanted me to visualize it at all times, especially when an opponent’s circle overlapped with mine. At first, I found it rather silly, but Fen’s voice was surprisingly hypnotic and insistent. Her suggestions worked their way into my brain like determined worms. 

Eventually, I found that I could do it.

I learned of rhythm. For the most part, combat was divided into actions that were either one or two-beat actions. The best forms of attack, Fen would explain, were those that were simultaneously a defense and a one-beat action. Attack was a defense and a defense could also be an attack. 

I was taught too how to grapple and throw. Fen’s lithe figure was surprisingly strong and the small woman had no problems overpowering me. Over and over, I found myself smacked against the floor or in a chokehold or painful lock that I could not escape. My new teacher told me that I was probably much physically stronger than her, and that she was merely applying her strength in the correct way. Poppycock, I thought to myself, she just probably had a much higher Strength attribute.

It was all rather much to take in.

But take it in I did. Hours or days passed within the dream, and time lost its meaning there. I even gave up counting the number of mental breaks that I had. Like slipping through my fingers, it was hard to recall how much time I was spending here.

I quizzed Fen about this as I sat down by the stream, looking into its clear water. She replied only with evasions and non-answers, with the best explanation that we were simply spending as much time as was required.

My teacher would sometimes retire to her house during these times of rest, and even on occasion would invite me in for tea. Her place was a quaint, rustic dwelling, just a touch away from being called squalid. We drank a copious amount of tea from almost comically small cups. Luckily in this place, I had no bodily functions which was a relief. When pressed on this she explained that it was unnecessary here.

And how she did go on about cutting away unnecessary things, but I found myself resistant to the notion. 

After all, who were to decide what was necessary and unnecessary? Take too much away and a person might lose whatever it was that made them… well them. I had lost too much of myself coming to this world already.

But I gained much too. Coming to this world had made me stronger than I could have ever imagined. I had fought with monsters and defied gods. Much in part, I admitted ruefully, to the fact that I had a ‘system’ in this world that had allowed for me to make meaningful progress. It had been a positive feedback loop, with my gains inspiring me to make even more gains.

Or to simply kill more at times, I thought darkly. Not that I minded much now.

However, now without my UI or system, I no longer had numbers to ascertain my progress. Only Fen’s vague nods or grunts of dismissive approval were the only measure that I was making progress or learning anything at all. I had become reliant on judging myself by easy-to-see numbers.

At first, it had been hard to make progress. But slowly, I was making progress. Interspersed in our conversations were now vague hints of grudging praise.

A source of enlightenment was when I noticed that the sign language I had used with Zariyah was a sort of precursor or foundation to the style that Fen was trying to impart to me. There in a defense form were the shapes for a rebuttal, there in an attack form a scathing condemnation. 

I mentioned this to Fen, but in her typical manner, she simply replied that it was an unnecessary notion. 

Fat lot you know, I smirked, because for me it had been in a way a groundbreaking discovery.

Now before came a test of sorts.

Fen Vaigorus, the Weaponmaster, and my new teacher, placed her small white china cup down on the rough-hewn wooden table. The delicate cup, with its intricate patterns and fine craftsmanship, seemed an oddity amidst the almost austere surroundings of her home. It was an exquisite thing, the kind that only a true master or the marvels of modern technology could produce.

Getting up, she then placed a rather large nut, about the size of a small coconut into an earthenware judge before filling it with water. For a moment, I thought she was about to engage in a bout of cooking.

She gave me an appraising look. “Come with me,” she commanded, leaving her humble abode with the filled jug. 

At a loss, I followed her. I had quickly learned that failing to do as instructed would result in the subtle application of pain later. With a bitter grin, I realized I was being trained like a dog.

Fen placed the ochre jug on a small boulder and turned to me. “You will learn how to attack that which is beneath,” she began in an even tone. “Like this…”

With lightning’s swiftness, she launched a palm strike at the jug. I braced for an explosion of pottery fragments, but instead, there was just a dull thud. Bemused, and thinking she was pulling my leg, I went over to inspect the pot.

Inside, I found the contents of the alien nut exploded into small floating chunks. What trick or magic spell was this?

“It is not of Mana if you are wondering,” she explained. “It uses purely that of the body and not the mind and soul.”

Goodness gracious, could explanations get any more oblique?

“How then?” I asked, a shade of irritation entering my voice.

“You must learn to use an energy from within. Find your center and cut all things away. Focus on one thing only, yet at the same time, think of nothing. It is a hard thing to explain. In other lands, they called this energy Kai. It is the one thing that I can not teach you, but a thing that you must find,” she explained. 

Fen paused for a moment, her eyes growing distant as if lost in a memory. “But even if you cannot do this, I will teach you the rest of what I know, though much of it may be beyond your grasp,” she said with a sigh. “It takes an ordinary person many years of focus solely on this path to find, but even here, we do not have that luxury of time. It is my hope that you are not just an ordinary person.”

Was the woman trying to goad me to greater efforts? Could she not see that I was trying my best?

Sometimes your best is not good enough, a quiet voice whispered. Not the voices, but simply the negative part of me that lurked in the dark recesses.

Still, I had to try.

Fen taught me to meditate, telling me to apply the breathing techniques I had learned earlier. That was easy enough, but to clear my mind was perhaps too high of a hurdle to set. For a man of my generation, erroneous thoughts came suddenly and often. Such a simple idea, the Zen notion of thinking of nothing, but in practice difficult to the extreme.

And so we stayed like that, doing nothing, just sitting cross-legged by the gurgling stream. Trying to think of nothing. It was an impossibility as too many things intruded into my mind and I was far from finding my center of whatever it was that she called it.

“That is enough, one’s focus can only used so much before it grows dull,” she said, slowly opening her eyes and getting up.

Brushing herself off, she gave me a small smile. “I will show you the physical aspect of what must be done.” 

“That way at least, even if you fail to learn it here you may have a chance to learn it out there one day,” she declared.

Somewhat taken aback, I gave a flat response, “It is like you are planning for failure?”

Fen chuckled at this. “Perhaps you are right. But from what I have seen so far I have learned to temper my hopes with realistic caution,” my teacher replied.

So much for a motivational speech, I grumbled internally.

*****

This was perhaps the hundredth, or thousandth, jug I had broken. Again and again, I had failed to destroy the nut suspended in water inside the jug without destroying the earthenware shell. 

It was frustrating to the extreme.

The middle-aged woman would just throw some random advice, telling me to apply the ‘soft touch’ or to ‘limit myself,’ or some other random blather. So opaque was her help that it was more of a hindrance.

How could one be expected to break the nut without breaking the pottery outside? The whole thing did not make any sense and was stupid in the extreme. It was infuriating.

Just as my patience was reaching its limit, the woman raised a hand. signaling me to stop. “There is nothing more that you can do here. I will just hope that you will be able to master it outside,” she said, admitting defeat with a tired sigh.

Finally, I thought to myself, what a useless technique anyway.

She returned to her house. After a short while, she returned,  bringing with her two wooden staves of even length. Tossing one staff to me she told me to take up a stance of my choosing.

“What… where am I to start?” I asked incredulously.

“These are but an extension of your body. Try not to differentiate what I teach now from what you have already learned. The principals are ultimately the same… if you try to keep them separate as concepts within your mind, you will ultimately suffer in the long term,” she explained in an insufferably aloof voice.

Great a whole lot of mysticism and low on the explanation.

*****

And in that manner, she trained me. More often than not, her teachings came in a language I understood all too well. Kind words and thoughtful insights were replaced by painful counterattacks and punishments that spurred me to greater aggression. Fen probably understood that her words would no longer reach me. There was not an ounce of consideration or kindness in her demeanor, and beneath it all, I sensed a desperate urgency.

Fen would disappear into her house to collect whatever new configuration that we would spar in and we would begin. 

With staff, sword, and spear, she taught me. 

With hammer, halberd, and blade, she taught me.

With one weapon or two, shields and no shields, she taught me. 

With spear against shield, two weapons against one, hammer against fist and feet, in endless combination she taught me

Armored in a heavy plate harness or wearing nothing more than my underclothes, she taught me. 

And, she taught me how to use my other hand, through raw practice and endless bloody repetition, until I could use both hands almost equally as well. 

At first, she had been untouchable. Even when she was in a relaxed and open stance, I could see no opening to exploit. But like the sea working its way against a stubborn cliff, I was slowly making progress. Now and again, I could see that she had become a bit slower in her response, here and there I would score a rare light touch.

I was finally beginning to get some grim satisfaction from the whole endeavor.

But even in this place where time flowed unnaturally slowly, it still did flow. A part of me sensed that my time here was drawing to a close, and Fen, it seemed, could sense it too.

“I do not know what culture has bred you to be thus, but your focus is sorely lacking. You have an anger about you that clouds your judgment. It dulls your strikes and softens your defense. But, you have learned much, not as much as I wished to learn, but a lot nonetheless. It will have to be enough,” she stated, delivering her backhand compliment as if they were words of the wise.

“What is there left for you to teach?” I asked snidely.

“A lifetime of wisdom,” she replied blithely with a weak smile. “But, we do not have the time for that. Take a moment’s rest, meditate, and think on all that you have learned. For next will be your final test before your journey back to the waking world.”

“Great… at long bloody last,” I replied back with no small amount of bitterness, relaxing my shoulders as I sought the comfort of the gurgling stream and soft green grass.