Kenan had not achieved complete rest between the time the conversation with his uncle took place and now. His body had directed the downtime, a little over twenty-four hours, to reset. A space to adjust, correct, and enhance. His mind had not done that. He wasn’t restless. Even though for the great majority of the time he was alert he hadn’t a spec of nervousness or a bit of anxiety. He was focused. His will filled his conscience and the potency of his intent leaked into the rest of his being. Kenan was aligned in need and want.

Well before dawn he took to the road and ended his short journey at the training grounds near the barracks. There was no formal communication with him and Doco but he was sure. It was after the sun shook the sky awake that he noticed that his uncle had appeared. Doco carried several items with him, a few with his hands and a deal more telekinetically.

“You're late,” Kenan said. He smiled as the memory passed through his head. Then another that sprouted thought was shoved away for a later time.

“We were meant to meet in your room.” Doco’s words had a bite. He yawned and his eyes closed for a second too long. Then he let go of the items in his hands as they too were magically lifted in the air as he rubbed his face.

“Have you slept, uncle?” Kenan asked.

“I…” Doco yawned again. “Shared your schedule for a few days so I could catch you.” He stretched and then closed his eyes. Kenan was unsure what happened, or if anything did at all. But when Doco wretched his eyes open Kenan saw a new vigor like the lethargy was only a thin veil shredded to dissipation.

“What did you do?”

Doco shrugged and moved about, he shook his limbs and stretched with weird angles. “I telekinetically moved my blood faster.” He hopped. “Old army trick. Sit. We have to talk before we get started.” Kenan followed the order and crossed his legs.

Seven items were laid down between Doco and Kenan as the former party sat down too. Two items were swords. Both were dark colored with minimal contrast of tone. One of them was thicker and looked less well-made. Another three were tomes. Red, brown, and tan respectively. Out of those three only one wasn’t a magical instruction guide. The last two items didn’t seem to mesh together. There was a vambrace and a flask.

“There are more things that aren’t ideal.” Doco winced. Then he shook his head and it was gone. “We have the winter to get you ready, maybe just a tad bit more if we’re lucky. Kenan, you have some serious hurdles in front of you. I will give you the heat, anvil, hammer. But you will have to forge yourself, bye yourself. I will help, of course. But it’s you who decides how much pressure you go through. Understood?”

Kenan nodded. “I do. But I get the feeling you're dancing around something.”

“Because I am. The Wise, what have the gods done.” Doco breathed. “This.” A blade was lifted from the ground, it was the sleeker of the two. Magically the sheath was released and the shimmer of black steel reflected Kenan’s face at him. In the brief glimpse, it felt like he looked at a different person. Doco broke Kenan from his sudden trance. “I hoped to die and have this sword buried beneath me. Nephew, I don’t know how to…” He paused. Stopped with his mouth open, and there the second stretched.

Then Kenan’s world flipped, that wasn’t right. As soon as he noticed that his head wasn’t where it should be he was already upright and on his feet. His stomach lurched in the sudden movement and he felt the warmth of unwanted liquid in his throat. “What are you doing?” Kenan stopped the convulsion of his body as he forced a gulp.

Doco held out a hand towards the sky. “Do you remember what I told you about the weapon arts? About the stances of the fist?”

Kenan finished a long, drawn-out breath. “They bleed? The foundation of one is married to them all?”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“You sound like you're asking me. Tell me more.” As Doco spoke the items on the ground were lifted and then dispersed. Out of sight.

“Most real fights. Like war. Are quick, dirty, and basic. Weapon techniques are good when it’s single combat or the opponents remain in the single digits and they’re counted on one hand. But neat tricks aren't going to matter when there are seven people in front of you and no room to move between your comrades.”

“Aye, you remembered more than I would've gave you credit for. Now what about the time you asked why I had you train with the staff?”

Kenan shrugged. “Because Ma would’ve killed you and then me if I used a sword.”

Doco laughed. “True.” There was something in that exchange, but it fled. “But no. Focus and think on the why.”

There was a pause. Kenan looked at the sun approaching and wondered why it felt wrong. “It was symbolic. Add a point to it, and it's a spear. Flatten that and add an edge now you have a great sword. Shorten that to get a longsword. You said… um… you said… I don’t remember the last bit. Something about whacking something.”

“You’ll know enough of most melee weapons to not get your head or your tallywacker cut off” The last words were enchanted with two swords that descended from the sky but were different. One landed in Doco’s hand. It was his short sword that he had carried for as long as Kenan could remember, and the other landed in front of Kenan. It was dull in shape and fashioned with no discernible marks of any grandeur other than it was metal.

Kenan picked up the sword without command. “I don’t know what a tallywacker is.”

He saw the flash and managed to react in time. Kenan’s mind recoiled in the familiar feel down his arm and it took all of his might just to wrestle his conscience out from a pit of despair. When he went to grab the weapon, Doco had closed the distance and chopped at his nephew. Then Kenan flipped around in an awkward show of agility as his sword caught more steel. He saw the small spark from the clash and he went cold with how close his eyes were to the naked blade. Then the short sword was lifted and directed at him from a different angle. The rush of cut wind grazed his back as Kenan just barely managed to fling his body away. He fumbled in the dirt before he righted himself, with the sword still in hand. “What in the hells!?” Kenan yelled.

His uncle barely gave the words time to wring out before he attacked again. The edge came from parallel to the ground. Kenan once again showed his inexperience as his clumsy redirection attempt let the tip of the blade glide across his arm. It produced a trickle of blood. “Don’t think! Act! Let your body move and enforce it with your mind!” Doco yelled back. The words were reinforced with action.

Attack after attack sent Kenan into a deterioration of his scance stance and technique. He did not know how long the bout lasted as his adrenaline forced every moment to stretch into a long series of events that he forgot about as soon as the next moment came. Even the sun lost its context as he laid on a heap. Bloodied, sweaty, and tired. Each instance of relaxed focus, wrong movement, and behindhand reaction left a long cut placed somewhere on his body. None of them were deep or bled all that much. But they burned with every failed lesson learned.

Without his will, Kenan was forcefully up righted and stretched out as he telekinetically floated in the air. “Breathe nephew, in through your nose, relax your lungs, and breathe out at their pace. Focus on your pain and let it fester, let it focus you.” Kenan was dropped, but he did not stumble from his feat. He did not shrivel back to the lump he was.

“You suck,” Kenan said. Internally he felt the fiery sting of his cuts and the crawl of his lungs. Instead of repressing them, he amplified them. They dulled as the pain poked his conscience and its power gripped around his nerves.

“It looks like you do.” Doco pulled a canteen from his belt and threw it at his nephew. It thunked against Kenan's chest before it clattered to the ground, he picked it up and drank. “What did you learn?”

Kenan spoke between heaves of gulped air and water. “Your edge cuts? I'm pretty sure you're cheating too, and I think I’ve lost a quarter of my blood.”

“Cheating?” Doco raised his eyebrow and his sword swished without the movement of his hands. “Why do you think that?”

The last of the water was dripped into Kenan’s mouth before he answered. “You're using your magic to make your sword lighter when you pull back, and then harder when you attack.”

“Why do you think that?”

Kenan saw something across Doco’s eyes just for a moment. It went too fast for him to catch. He shrugged. Winced, and then spoke. “It’s what I would do.”

Doco nodded. “Good. But I wasn’t doing that. But, great thinking.” He saw his nephew slump a little and a grin started to slit his face “So what else did you learn?”

“I’m a tally Wacker with a sword?”

Doco laughed. “Yes, Kenny, yes. You wield a blade like it's a one-eyed trouser snake.” Doco chuckled again.