The past was the past, and Ren wasn’t going to let the bad blood that had previously flowed between him and Kareem Gutari guide his present. Or so he told himself. But Ren kept finding reasons to avoid camp. He spent extra time foraging, hunting, volunteering to assist the scouts in their duties. With less of his time spent training and sparring he had more time to think and study.
He flipped the page in his Three Chamber Breathing manual.
Not only are affinities crucial for the performance of conceptual and elemental martial techniques, but they can drastically increase the rate of cultivation through access to additional sources of Aether that can be converted into Qi.
The first level of affinity to a concept, item, or element is the level of Knower. One who has attained Knower of Water can refine small quantities of water Aether into Qi through internal alchemy (see section 3, chapter four for more information on internal alchemy, and its relationship to the three chamber breathing technique and the third gate).
The second level of affinity is the level of Friend. One who has attained Friend of Water can refine with much greater efficiency as well as alter the manifestation of temporal interaction, for example: stepping on water without breaking surface tension. The impact of one’s will over the element of affinity is always governed by the conceptual understanding and spiritual relationship of the cultivator and said element. At this stage physical contact is also required for the expression of one’s will.
The third level of affinity is the level of Wielder. One who has attained Wielder of Water can manipulate and interact with water without physical contact as well as change its state and shape, though the extent of what is possible is limited by the depth of understanding of the cultivator. Examples of techniques commonly used by those at this stage are water whip, wave manipulation, and ice spike projectiles.
The fourth level of affinity is the level of Heart…
Ren had read the entire manual, cover to cover, several times over now. The next section talked about attunement theory. Attunement, of course, was the process of manifesting and developing an affinity. Supposedly, each soul was born in different relation to existence and thus predisposed to different affinities. It cautioned that going against one’s natural predispositions without the aid of natural treasures or special guidance of a Master could slow progress by a hundred-fold, or cause spiritual damage.
The manual also included vague explanations of various attunement techniques and meditations used to develop affinities, citing various paths. These descriptions were mostly speculative, however, as the specific process of attunement was among the most jealously guarded secrets of a sect.
Supposedly, it was traditional for sects to utilize affinity testing stones as part of their admissions process. But, even if there were any sects in Ardus allowed to operate outside of the direct supervision of the Grand Council, they couldn’t help him here and now.
Ren looked out across the plain to check how far the sun had dropped. He had time before he needed to be back to the farming complex they were camped at. He thanked the deer carcass hanging from a nearby tree for showing up so quickly and providing this free time.
If he could develop an affinity… Maybe it wouldn’t take a decade to build a core. But what were his predispositions?
He’d always enjoyed watching the Copper River flow by, back in Katarn. Even when he’d been living on the streets, he’d stolen moments of peace when he was able to find a place to sit alone by the water. But he hated swimming. Ever since Sig had nearly drowned him in a water trough he panicked if he got more than waist deep.
He liked watching the leaves float on the wind when he played music. Maybe he could pursue wind like uncle Irah?
Fire would be cool. But- no, definitely not fire. He shook away images of his family home burning. That was how this all started anyway.
Maybe the sun? If he had a solar affinity maybe the Temple of Light would help his family? He remembered the warm, soothing glow of Rhami’s Qi when she’d healed him after the shadow went out of control.
It stirred.
Shadow. The thing that had slaughtered the caravan guards. Now that he thought about it, it was also to blame for all the people who’d lost their lives to the Black Claws. Anger rose up in his chest, in his gut, in his limbs—and the shadow trembled.
Ren peered deeper within himself. He usually avoided interacting with the shadow as a rule. But this tremble was familiar somehow. It wasn’t a tremble of fear, but one of hungry anticipation-
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“Hiding out, are we?” Gunney appeared from behind him, bursting his bubble of concentration.
Ren stayed silent and looked at his book.
“Look, I get it. The guy’s a goat shit who nearly killed you to save his own pride. But you have a place in this unit. Respect. You earned it. You earn it out here—” he gestured at the open land around “—and in the sparring ring. Lieutenant Kareem, on the other hand, is new. The clouders don’t know jack-all about him. And you can bet that him tearing down one of their own isn’t going to earn him any points.”
“I honestly haven’t minded the extra time with myself.”
“You and yer damn books.” A roguish grin flashed across his face before melting into a none too flattering pout. “What about your dear pal Gunney? You’re gonna let him die of boredom?”
Ren laughed and put his book back in his pouch.
“Besides,” said Gunney, “I’ve been hearing all kinds of tales about you being the greatest archer in the land since Tulsi the Moon Bow. As one of her long lost descendents, I need to test your mettle.”
Ren relented and lowered the deer carcass, wrapping it before throwing it over his shoulders. He secured his quiver to his hip, took his bow in hand, and they made their way back to camp.
After each man had taken care of what needed doing they met just beyond the outer ring of tents with targets and training arrows.
Gunney also held a stack of clay disks which he set to the side while they put up targets at twenty, forty, and sixty paces. “So, my esteemed pupil. Show me what you can do.” The falsetto he dawned to imitate the highborn was not just inaccurate, it was simply ridiculous. It was the same voice he had often used when mocking Hamsa, Son of Swords, back in basic.
Ren chuckled and tested his bow. He took three slow breaths, then his hands flashed into motion. Three arrows dead center in the closest target. One dead center and two damn close in the second target. Then he slowed down. Hunters never took shots they weren’t sure of so sixty paces was beyond what he was practiced at. The first shot hit the target on the left side. He adjusted slightly and fired two more arrows at speed. One hit the bullseye, the next hit just above.
Gunney whistled appreciatively. “Damn fine shooting. I’d wager you’ve got me beat for speed. But you’re sloppy at range.” He stroked his thickening beard, ripped up a piece of grass and dropped it, watching it fall. Then he raised his bow, drew, and fired at the far target three times. His shots, while not super fast, were smooth, like they merged together into one singular motion, full of certainty. His first arrow hit the center, his second split the first in half, and his third knocked the others to the side.
This was yet another reason why the men from the foothills were so sought after as scouts and foresters. Gunney had been personally recruited from his village, after all.
Ren stared. He’d started feeling pretty good about his shooting, but there was still a long way to go.
“Okay, warmup’s done.” Gunney reached for a clay disk. “Now the fun begins.”
He hurled the object and watched it fly as he drew another arrow and fired it in one quick movement. The disk was beyond the last target by the time the arrow caught up and shattered it.
Ren didn’t notice his own jaw hanging open till Gunney picked up another disk and said, “Your turn. I’ll help you out by throwing for you.”
Ren gulped and nodded, nocking an arrow. Hunting was about tracking, getting in close, waiting for the perfect moment. He’d never fired at a moving target before.
Gunney chucked the disk and Ren…missed. Spectacularly.
“Let’s try again, shall we?”
*****
Kareem stood at attention and suppressed a scowl.
“So, Lieutenant, it’s been nearly two weeks. How are you finding Cloud Company Seven?” The Commander’s voice was gentle, kind, soft. His unit was undisciplined at camp. His head scout was irreverent—at least towards Kareem. But at least the man’s uniform was in good order and his beard was neatly trimmed.
In fact, it might actually be better to serve under a lackluster leader. If he could somehow get credit for tuning up the unit he could rise faster, and step out from his father’s shadow. Maybe make him regret his choice of heir.
“They don’t listen very well, Sir.”
“You mean, they don’t listen to you.” said Commander Narwalla, turning away.
“As you say, Sir.” Kareem scrutinized the command tent again. A proper leader ought to have a thicker ground carpet, surely. Maybe a few pieces of art, and an armor rack. It was essential to project authority if one wanted obedience and respect. He’d make sure to fix all these mistakes when he had his own unit.
The commander turned back to him, hands behind his back, face pensive. His eyes were almost clever. But a clever man would never be stuck out in the sticks walking in circles on patrol. “Lieutenant, you are new to this job and this unit. It is my job to instruct you and guide you when you stumble, but you must ask for help.”
From him? What could this backwoods fool teach him about leadership that he hadn’t already learned from his father, a Councilman. But he could play the game. “Do you have advice, sir?”
The Commander nodded and smiled. “The men don’t trust you. They don’t respect you. Give them a reason. Make them want your approval.” He paused and stroked his beard. “Your papers say you were trained in the Jing Sword Style. Maybe you could show them some moves over at the sparring circle one of these nights?”
Incredibly, that wasn’t a bad idea. Kareem saluted. “Thank you for your guidance, sir.”
*****
Commander Narwalla watched his new lieutenant leave and sighed. Did these brats not realize how transparent they were? He’d long outgrown the fragile pride that made men bristle at the hint of disrespect or condescension.
He shook his head. There was a lot of work to do to shape the young man into a proper leader, but one couldn’t rush this sort of thing. And patience was one of the gifts of age.
He’d let the Gutari boy fumble around on his own for a bit longer and see how he adapted to the new position.