He was lacking something. A vital fragment. The jigsaw that would reform the bard into a warrior had been coming together nicely. Yet, Jorun saw it. Felt it. A memory of Kenan echoed the need for the invisible requirement. The bard's friend, brother really, had an edge. A faint pressure exuded from the eyes. Doco had the same oppression, and the Ram-born too. All of that slight coercion had the same taste.
Jorun fought the thoughts of slackness. They weren't helpful and split his attention. Focus bored onto his core, mana veins and gates. A continual motion at an exhausting pace. Mana fueled a push of strong aid. Wind blew past the bard in an effort of movement, but was faced with an equal wall of telekinetic energy.
The bard and Doco sat about ten yards apart. Each putting forth their power in a magical tug of war. The Auditamor, Doco, had the upper hand by a large margin. But only exuded as much power as he was faced. Like always, Jorun gave a final push of effort, creating one large gush of wind that barely moved the invisible wall. Jorun’s power gave out and Doco released his spell.
“I believe you are overseeing something.” Doco said. Jorun didn’t respond, too busy fighting off mana deprivation and strain. Coupled with the complete lack of oxygen in his lungs. “You use wind like its fire.”
“Uhh. wha.” Jorun tried to wheeze his question.
Doco chuckled and shook his head. He waited for the bard to regain attention while he thought. The bard was talented, in some aspects at least, and a hard worker. Jorun complained, sure, but any and all challenges were met with a fierce ferocity that can only be described as a violent storm. Despite that, he missed a key competence. Kenan gained it from a burning house, Doco claimed it from a desperate fight long ago.
“Boy. It is time.” Resolution filled his brain. He had grown to like the bard in the training time that they had, and didn’t want to fulfill that last part of the bard's development.
“You know. You could be more specific. Like, lunch time? Break time? Or maybe time for a little old tune. Oh! Maybe..”
“Shut up.”
“My bad.”
“You can call this your graduation. A final test. Other than given supplies, no help will be afforded to you. You are going to the woods. You will understand the win conditions when you achieve them’
Jorun nodded, not finding the strength to meek out a complaint. Not that he wanted to anyway. The words Doco said riled up the wind. As if his power was telling him that this was the needed step. It wasn’t the taste of independence Jorun gathered from his master's words, but something else. Something he was blind, or willfully ignorant too. “When am I going?”
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“Now.”
“Wha..” All words were choked out of him. His entire body was forced under an immense pressure, and his neck was a pinpoint for the struggle. Jorun tried to force wind to materialize as each attempt was thwarted by the same magic blocking the intake of oxygen.
The last thing the bard saw was Doco standing over him in a mixture of concern, worry, and determination.
***
Three nights and two days, Jorun had remained in the forest. The woods were packed. To the point of bursting. He had heard the stories and legends about the times when a beast tide was imminent. This seemed to be the point.
Yet, that was impossible. A tide, albeit manufactured, had just been launched and dealt with. The animal population was in no way shape and form ready for another. At least, that's what Jorun thought. What he hoped.
Each step he took was met with another scurried rodent or launched fang and claw. Most looked at him as a new source of food. The stay under the trees was constant running. He hated it. The bard was tired and exhausted. Little sleep was his system, barely any food, and his magic was sapped into escape efforts.
The wind finally broke, and Jorun stopped and fell. He got caught on a large root. Instead of falling face first, he twisted and shoulder checked a tree. He landed onto his butt and the trailing breath finally caught up. As soon as the respite started, fatigue encroached onto his limbs. He was so, so tired. His eyelids threatened to shut forcefully.
Howls, loud and close. Fog started in Jorun's brain. He didn't care. Couldn’t. Sounds of growling tried to penetrate the growing confusion, messing up his cognitive function. He wanted warmth. Needed it. A chill froze his muscles and body. Further propelling the need for a source of life. Safety seemed such an infallible dream.
Wind yelled. Not his own, but another force that had helped all along. The bard didn’t have the control to listen. From the trees came three beings. Short of stature and on all fours. Sleek and furless with a taste of canine, but the controlled movement of a feline. Short, pointed ears, and a single hole for a nose. A wiry tail that had entangling barbs along the sides.
Darkness took Jorun for half a second and saw the creature continually approaching. Eyes closed again and they stepped closer. Again, and this time one was in between his legs. Snarling and reading a bite. He closed his eyes once more. Ready, he wanted rest. Simple rest.
His mind slipped into passive thoughts. Images of Kenan. Doco. They faded quickly. Unimportant. Hernie, Sveige, and Geia. Hernie was always curtailing his excitement and adventures. He knew she was just in her actions. Regardless, Jorun's antics were never harmful. And in the end, never failed to get her to smile. Svieges lessons were harsh at times, but were always needed. The warmth he felt at his fathers pride. He wanted to make him proud. As their secret, he had always supported Jorun's dream of being a bard. Geia, well, she was Geia. Sure, they fought. Yet, he never meant whatever he had said in their spats. He would do anything for her. All of them. Anything. Everything. Anything. Everything.
Jorun's eyes snapped open in a sudden rush. Hands jerking and a quick reaction as he caught the encroaching maw of the creature trying to bite down on his neck. Fangs broke skin and went through his fingers. Felicitating blood to flow down his arms and pain to shoot up. Understanding came at a rush as he looked into the eyes of the creature in front of him.
Confidence. Death. His eyes showed a previously unknown determination. He hadn’t understood. But the win condition had always been simple. Since his birth. Survival.