The Test of Time
The day after completing his Rite of Trial
A gruff voice woke Alderache up in quite a startling manner. He knew that voice belonged to his father, Alacanche. "Wake up boy, enough celebrating in your dreams, we have work to do." Alderache quickly sprung out of bed and was dressed in a flash. He grabbed the wooden training Lakan and stepped out of his room. "Put that back boy, you won't be needing it today." Alderache stuck the Lakan into his waistband, "We never leave our Lakan, even if it's not needed." Alacanche smiled, fleetingly, and punched his son in the shoulder playfully, "It's about time something sunk into that thick skull of yours. Let's get going, Syna rises." Alderache nodded and followed his father, noting the carving knife hanging from his father's belt. He really hoped his father wasn't going to try and convince him to follow his footsteps into woodworking. It was an extremely respectable profession, but it had never been able to hold his interest. Not to mention that wood was rare, and not generally deemed as useful as other professions.
His father led him through the winding city, working his way up toward the upper tiers. Alderache kept his annoyance to himself. He knew that the trees were up above and that was likely where they were headed. They arrived at the city's gates, nodded at their brothers-in-arms that were standing guard, and made their way outside. Without even looking back at his son, "Stop being so disappointed, I'm not trying to get you to follow in my footsteps. I swear your mother babies you too much." They both knew she would never do such a thing, but it made for an entertaining inside joke over the years. Alderache kept his relief within as the two walked over to a small patch of trees. It certainly couldn't be confused for a forest, or even for woods. At best, it was a grove. Alderache knew that if trees this close still stood near the city, it was because the wood wasn't worth using for building. Syna was just beginning to kiss the sky, causing the grove to begin being useful in the form of shade.
His father led him to the center of the small grove, to the tallest tree there. He pulled out his carving knife, and quickly engraved Alderache's name into the surface. He then turned to his son and pointed his knife over his shoulder at the tree. "From this point on, this tree, the king of the grove is your nemesis. And as my son, you will crush your nemesis. However, there are rules to this combat. Your enemy has no weapons, so neither shall you when you fight it. We only need the strength of ourselves to vanquish a foe. You also may only fight your nemesis every fifth day. Trust me, you will need the time to recuperate. And finally, you must say a prayer to the Lord of Riverfall, our Father Wysar, before each and every blow. I will not recognize you as an adult of my lineage until you are finally declared the victor. Do you understand me?"
Alderache was confused, but refused to show it to his father. But if he understood his father correctly, he was to fight this tree until it fell over. It was absolutely ridiculous. What was the point? Trees couldn't fight back, nor were they a threat. But he'd never once gone against the training his father set for him, and he wouldn't begin now.
"Yes father."
He stepped up to his 'nemesis' and began to study his opponent. The bark was thin and paper like. The tree was about four times thicker than his thigh. At first, he scoffed at the idea that this would be difficult. How hard could it be? His father picked up a large log and sat down against another tree, and pulled out his carving knife. Alderache was annoyed by this. Did his father really think it would take that long to knock over a tree?
Alderache entered a combat stance. He bent his head down, important for protecting your chin and throat from blows. He raised his arms up, his right arm leading, with his body lining up, following suit. His arms would be used for offense and to protect the upper portion of his trunk, while his hands were at eyebrow level to protect his face. He kept his hands a safe distance from his face. He'd learned the hard way that if his father punched him in the arm or hand, he ended up punching himself. He kept his body straight, not bent forward, feeling his muscles tense slightly as he prepared himself. His feet positioned themselves directly beneath his fists, while he shifted his weight so that his heels were just above the ground.
In a bare whisper, "Wysar, guide me true, help me to not falter." He then shifted his weight to his front foot, and swung hard into a pivot. His leg snapped up and struck the trunk of the tree at a hard perpendicular angle. Pain shot up through his entire leg. He winced in pain, but made no verbal notice of it. He had expected it to hurt, but wasn't quite expecting that. He settled back into his combat stance, and decided to try a punch. Once more, "Wysar, guide me true, help me to not falter." He threw a brisk jab, more to judge range. It struck the tree, but wasn't hard enough to determine much. But as soon as it struck, he pulled it back. Then he twisted slightly at the heels, twisted his hips, and turned his shoulder. The straight punch collided with a hard thud into the tree. The pain wasn't nearly as bad as when he had kicked. If he had to guess, the wood in the tree was softer than the bones in his body, though not by a whole lot. Alderache was beginning to realize that this was going to be much more difficult than he'd originally thought.
The thudding permeated the air until Syna was close to disappearing behind the world. Alderache had long since ceased to hold in his exasperations of pain each time he kicked and punched the damnable tree. Both hands and shins were deeply bruised and throbbed in pain. "Let's call it a night boy." Alderache took a moment's rest to observe the progress he'd made on the tree. He was much disappointed at what he saw. It didn't even look like he'd made any progress. The tree was exactly the same as it had been when he'd arrived. The pair began walking home, Alacanche with a new carved walking stick in hand.
1 year later
The dull thudding was a common sound for the guards posted near the entrance of Riverfall. They couldn't believe that the young Akalak was still at his ridiculous training after all this time. No one could ever possibly kick down a tree. They snapped to attention, however, as soon as they spotted the Lord of Riverfall walking toward them. He nodded at the two, and made his way to the grove where one of his many sires was training. Alacanche saw him first, and began to stand, but Wysar motioned for him to stay seated. He put a finger to his lips, to silence him as well. He wanted to see the young one that was training in such a strange manner, and he knew that Alderache had never met him before, and likely wouldn't recognize him. He sat next to Alacanche, who was carving some other token or other from a fallen branch. He watched the youth at work.
Alderache was glistening with sweat, his crimson skin darkened by the shade of the trees. He'd been at this for a year now, and his progress was barely noticeable. The pain he'd felt in the first few months of his training was nowhere near as sharp now. It still bruised him, but the bone didn't quite feel as sore now. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and stopped his training to turn and look. A man he'd never seen before had joined his father in watching him train. He nodded at him and turned back to the tree that refused to yield. He closed his eyes and mouthed the words, "Wysar, please help to guide my heart and body to the completion of this task."
He'd been having doubts as of late. The progress over the year was abysmal. If he hadn't been staring at the same spots on the tree every fifth day for the last year, he would never have noticed. There were slight indentations on either side of the tree from his kicks, and one a bit higher, from where his fists struck. At this rate, it would take him a hundred years to topple this tree.
"You need to observe your target more. You know what your actions are, but you do not know the consequences of them before you act. Find your target's weakness, and break it at that point. Strength increases tenfold if applied to an enemy's weakness."
The advice came from the unknown man. Who was he to give him advice? He looked strong, but didn't appear to be some great warrior sage to be giving out lessons. He muttered an insincere 'thanks' and turned back to his task at hand. In his mind he kept dwelling on the words the man spoke. 'What could there possibly to observe on a tree? IT'S A TREE!' He continued to fume on this for several chimes. He prepared to kick the tree, with the annoyance and anger building. He kicked at the tree, harder than he ever had before.
CRACK!
The sound reverberated through the grove. Alacanche winced at the stomach churning noise. Pain shot up Alderache's leg. He collapsed against the tree and looked down at the burning that was climbing upwards from his shin. The area around his shin that connected with the tree was now swollen and no longer looked straight. He sighed and gingerly sat on the ground. It was clearly broken.
The man from earlier began to speak again. "See, everything and everyone has a weakness, that tree included. We are a proud race; we don't just beat our heads against a wall, expecting it to move. Now that you can't fight it, study it. Alacanche will carve you a crutch, but until then ponder the advice I gave you. You have much growing to do, but I know you will keep at it, especially now that you have received the first injury. Don't worry; I'm sure your mother will have you fixed up before too long." He smiled nonchalantly at Alderache and got up to walk back into town. He was worried about his son, his darker brother had yet to appear, and it would only be harder for him the longer it took.
Alderache felt the man's words finally hit home this time. Of course he was right. He'd been spending the last year accomplishing nothing aside from working out some frustrations. He looked down at his leg and knew he'd have to take it easy for a while. So he decided to study the blasted tree like the man had said. As his eyes traveled up the trunk, he noticed that it looked much different from this angle. From down here, the indents from his kicks appeared a bit more prominent, though they were still shallow. He could barely make out the indent that his fists made though.
He sat there, his leg throbbing, but moved to the back of his mind, for several bells. He hadn't noticed anything seemingly worthwhile. He looked over at his father, who was busy carving away. The crutch had quite a bit of shape to it, so he figured he was almost done. When he looked back, he finally saw something different than the last few bells. There was a line of tiny ants crawling up the tree. He watched them march dutifully up the tree, slowly curving around the trunk. Alderache dragged himself to the other side, careful to not hit his leg, so he could watch them further. At first it appeared that the line of insects had come to a stop. But he looked closer and saw that was not the case. There was a single, shallow crack in the tree. It didn't look like a product of his efforts, but rather something that had always been there. He smiled. The man's advice wasn't as useless as he'd originally thought.
13 years later, a few days after Alderache's darker brother revealed himself
Alderache sat in front of the tree in turmoil. He always knew his darker brother would show himself, but he never knew how strong he'd be, or how ill prepared he would be. He looked up at his enemy of a tree. Fourteen years of progress and the thing still stood. However, now that miniscule crack in the trunk had become a large gash that ran for most of the height. Normally when he looked at the fruit of his labor he would smile, but not today.
"Don't blame me for keeping you from taking down your 'nemesis'."
Alderache sighed. His darker brother never stopped with the sarcasm, just beating down everything Alderache found enjoyable or important. His father had told him that his darker brother had revealed himself much later than most, and would be much harder to deal with because of it.
"If you don't want to deal with me, just let me take over my body."
Alderache once again ignored him. He had to find a way to subdue his other half. He said a small prayer to Wysar. "Lord Wysar, please help keep my dedication from wavering, help me to maintain my focus in this time of trials, help me to subdue this most dangerous of enemies."
Another voice spoke, not his darker brother's, "Subduing your darker brother is never the right answer Alderache."
Alderache looked up and saw the same man he'd seen several years ago when he snapped his leg. He smiled. At first he scoffed at the man's teaching, but thanks to him, he'd made the progress thus far. He decided to be more respectful this time. "Thank you elder, as you can see, your advice is put to good use. But why shouldn't I subdue him? He feels like an enemy."
Wysar smiled at the young Akalak, he hated the strife he'd have to go through but this one would pick up his teachings easily. "Kick the tree once more, at its base, as hard as you can now."
Alderache looked at him oddly. He hadn't answered his question, and now he was asking him to do what caused him to break his leg. Alderache assumed his standard stance, looking deep into the gash of the tree. It looked like he still had a few more years to go. He then mentally convinced himself that the tree was his darker brother. He said a silent prayer to the Lord of Riverfall. Then he shifted his weight, twisted, and his shin struck the base of the tree with a loud thud. The guards over at the gates would wince, this one was louder than what they were relegated to hearing every fifth day.
"Again."
Alderache complied, praying, then trying to kick even harder. THUD.
"Again, left leg."
Once more Alderache's kick struck the tree. This time, however, the thud was followed by a cracking, splintering sound. The gash in the tree grew, and was now splitting the tree fully. The top ends now sagged away from each other, and he thought they would fall. But they did not.
"Alderache, when you fight your darker brother, you end up like this tree. Fractured, split down the middle, fighting against yourself. He is not some enemy to be struck down, or some affliction to be cured. We call them brothers, because that is what they are. He is your brother. Have you even taken the time to learn his name?"
Alderache hadn't even asked, for he hadn't cared. He looked up once more at the split tree. Fractured. He knew this tree would never be able to heal the damage done to it. And he never wanted to end up like that. He now felt very sheepish. This man had a very strong presence about him, and now Alderache felt as if he'd let him down.
He inwardly asked his brother his name, but received no reply other than a sneer. The man walked up to Alderache and put his hand on his shoulder.
"Your determination is strong, but your trials will be great my son. I've seen how hard you can work at something, and I know that you will continue to grow. And I don't want to see you become..." He paused. A loud cracking filled the air, just as Wysar knew it would. The two halves of the tree fell toward them, and thudded into the ground, one half behind Alderache, the other behind Wysar. "...this. So work just as hard on your relationship with your brother, and continue training yourself, and do me proud. However, you will have one more thing to work on as well. Kneel."
Alderache knelt, and the man put his hand on the back of his neck. He felt something change, although he wasn't sure as to what. "We call that the Evantia aura. Tap it when you want to use it. It does not come without effort. So you must vigilantly train with it, just as hard, if not more, than everything else. It's a gift a give to you my son." Realization struck Alderache. Everyone had heard of the Evantia aura, the gift given by Wysar to a select few. This man was Wysar! He stayed kneeling, and whispered, "Thank you." Wysar simply nodded and began walking back toward the city. "Perhaps you should travel somewhere after your Rites of Manhood. See what there is to see, get some more space to better your training."
Alderache watched in awe as Wysar disappeared from sight. He would definitely take that advice to heart. He stood, and looked at the broken tree. Fourteen years. Could he befriend his brother in that time? Inwardly his darker brother snorted, "In fourteen years, this body will be mine."
Alderache rolled his eyes and began his way back into town. "The name is Alseroth. And I will take this body one day."
With a sigh, Alderache answered more politely than he would've wanted to. "It's a pleasure to meet you Alseroth."