The sky was just beginning to brighten when Caruso woke up. On previous days, Caruso had slept in till mid morning but today, his training was to start with Miles at daybreak.
The compound grounds, yet untouched by morning sun, were still twinkling with the purple glow of shrooms and the flare of lanterns as Caruso made his way down to the kitchens. Yesterday, when Caruso arrived for breakfast the long table was already adorned with platters of summer berries and cut melon and sweet berryshrooms; bowls of honeyfungus jam with toasted breadshrooms; thinly sliced boar—crisped up and accompanied with stewed spiceshrooms; steaming pots of redparasol tea and flagons of orangegill juice. This early, however, the kitchen staff had yet to lay out anything.
Caruso stood awkwardly before the empty table, listening to the busy sounds of breakfast being prepared. He considered walking back out, but a woman in a white apron caught his eye and approached him with a smile.
‘Hi there. Can I get you anything?’ she asked, her cheeks flushed pink from the hot kitchen.
‘Uh, I was just after something to eat, but I can come back later...’ Caruso felt weird asking her for food. This wasn’t a restaurant, and it didn’t feel like it was his place to give orders to staff.
‘Don’t be silly. What would you like?’
‘Oh, ok. Then maybe some of that honeyfungus jam from yesterday? Or whatever is easiest. I don’t mind.’
‘No problem, just sit down, I’ll bring it to you.’
‘Thanks.’
She smiled sweetly and returned to the kitchen. Caruso listened to the clatter of plates and the bubbling of pots, the chopping of fruit and the sizzling of oil on a hot pan. He figured it was a team of cooks, but on closer inspection, he realized that young woman was doing all the work herself. Even though she wasn’t that much older than Caruso, she worked with the impressive grace of a master chef with countless years of experience.
She returned with freshly toasted breadshrooms, a bowl of jam, and a pot of steaming tea. ‘It’s nice to see a new young face around here.’ She poured him a cup. ‘I’m Miranda.’
‘I’m Caruso. So, you work here?’ It was probably the stupidest question Caruso had ever asked.
‘That’s right. If you’re ever hungry, you know where to find me.’ Miranda flashed another smile and returned to the kitchen.
Something about that exchange left a warm feeling in Caruso’s chest, but the warm feeling was served with a side of dread from the upcoming training with Miles. He knew it was unfair to judge a man he barely knew, but it was very hard to get to know someone like Miles. The man didn’t seem to talk much to anyone, and walked around with a permanent frown. It was more of a sad frown than an angry one, but that didn't make things any easier.
After breakfast Caruso gathered his dirty plates and returned them to the kitchen.
‘Oh. Thanks Caruso, that’s sweet of you,’ Miranda said. ‘Have a lovely day.’
‘You too,’ Caruso said.
Outside, Caruso followed the stone path as it meandered through the shroom gardens, over the little bridge that spanned across the little stream, around the elm tree and out towards the far wall studded with fire sconces that had yet to be extinguished.
As he waited for Miles, his attention was grabbed by a fluttering of shroommoths over a patch of purpleveils. The bright pink moths, when seen at night, hold their own soft glow from the luminescent shrooms they feast on. But in the early morning they were just a flurry of pink wings all competing for the brightest shrooms.
He noticed one moth struggling on the ground. One of its wings was missing, and the wing that remained was scratched and tattered—most likely attacked by a nightjar or a shroomwarbler. Caruso watched it struggle. Shroommoths have a lifespan of up to three days. It seemed unfair that it had to spend what little time it had unable to fly. He found and snapped off a bright purpleveil and layed it down for the injured moth to get at. It’s fuzzy pink body crawled onto the shroom and started feasting.
Footsteps behind him announced Miles.
‘Hi,’ Caruso said.
Miles grunted, avoided eye contact, and made for the wall. Miles opened the wall and Caruso followed him through to the clearing. The morning sun peeked through the trees. Down one end of the clearing, a stableboy led a string of horses to the little brook that ran between the treeline and the compound wall.
Without any preamble, Miles summoned a tall wall, same height as the compound wall. ‘This is the tallest wall a waller can make.’ The wall sunk back into the ground. He then summoned a waist high wall. ‘This is the shortest.’ The short wall sunk away. ‘The walls can range from a couple of paces long, or can extend to both edges of our twenty pace range limit.’ A wall rose across the clearing, twenty paces either side of Miles.
‘Why does the compound wall stay up but these ones drop away?’
‘Because I made them that way,’ Miles said, looking bored. ‘Now, summon a wall. A single wall, like this.’ A small wall appeared between Caruso and Miles, a couple of paces across and only waist high.
‘Okay.’ Caruso looked at the ground before him and tried imagining a small wall emerging. Nothing happened. He couldn’t feel the ice down his spine like he’d felt the other day. Caruso fought back a flash of panic. He had no idea what he was doing. The other day was a fluke. I don’t belong here.
‘How exactly do I … do it?’
‘It doesn’t come from here,’ Miles tapped Caurso on the side of the head, a little roughly. ‘It comes from here.’ Miles traced a finger up Caruso’s back to the base of his neck.
‘It comes from my back?’
‘Your spine. Waller’s feel a cold drip down their backs. Follow this feeling down into the mycelium below. Then back up again as a wall. When you can feel your spine, you can wall. Try again.’
Miles was a terrible teacher. He looked as if teaching Caruso was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
Caruso focused on his spine, he didn’t understand how you could feel your spine. Your spine is just there. He tried pulling his shoulders back, he tried bending his neck forward, but that just felt like his shoulders and neck, not his spine. He stood still, thinking about the line up his back Miles had traced. He closed his eyes, well aware of how stupid he must look, trying to will the feeling of his spine into existence. For a second he thought it was working, as a tingling sensation ran down his back, but it went away before he could pin it down.
‘Im sorry, I don’t know how.’
It was unclear if Miles was disappointed or not, his facial expression had yet to change.
‘Keep trying,’ was the only instruction Miles offered. For the next hour Caruso stood there in the clearing staring at the ground, thinking about his back, trying in vain to summon a wall without as much as making a blade of grass quiver. The whole time Miles looked on, frowning, looking sad and bored. And Caruso could hardly blame him.
Eventually Caruso spoke up. ‘Is there something I should be doing?’
Miles pondered the question, or at least appeared to, his constant frown gave an illusion of thoughtfulness, but Caruso started to wonder if much was going on beneath the surface.
‘No,’ Miles finally answered. ‘Keep trying. Feel your spine.’
I have been trying. Trying isn’t working! Further down the clearing, other Foresters came out to practice their abilities with each other. A Waller was throwing up walls at a couple of blinkers who would always blink away before the walls could launch them. Another pair of blinkers appeared to be doing target practice with their blinks.
‘If you don’t concentrate. I’ll stop training you,’ Miles said.
Seething silently, Caruso once again stared down at the unmoving ground. He didn’t even know what trying meant any more. He had been failing at this for hours and he didn’t understand what he was doing wrong. When you can feel your spine, you can wall, Miles had said. Yet all Caruso could feel was a building headache.
‘This isn’t working,’ Caruso said, attempting to keep the frustration from his voice. ‘What am I doing wrong?’
Miles raised a hand and tapped Caruso on the head, ‘Not from here.’ Then he reached around to trace a finger up Caruso’s spine, ‘From here.’
‘But I don’t know what that means.’
Miles simply nodded at the ground as if to say “Keep trying”. Caruso screamed internally and once again, ran through the useless motions.
After a long stretch of fruitless toil, it was clear that something needed to change. Rubbing his temples, Caruso took a moment to remember his walling success from yesterday. It had been so effortless, he hadn’t even realized he had done it until his eyes had opened to the four sturdy walls around him.
He tried to get himself back in that mindset. He pictured the angry boar with the bloodied tusks as it stomped and huffed and threatened Caruso. And the dead animals lying on the ground with flies buzzing around spilled entrails. He remembered the panic, the dread, and wanting to flee but instead deciding to stand his ground as the boar charged towards him. The memories alone were causing his heart rate to climb and thud through his head as if he were actually standing on the edge of that sidemind patch, facing down the shroom beast. It had been when the boar was just several paces away that he had given up all hope of fleeing, it was then he had clamped his eyes shut and felt the icy trickle down his spine.
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To Caruso’s shock, a familiar cold sensation dripped down his back. The pressure in his head and the pressure in his spine were building and building, increasing in strength with each heart beat. He closed his eyes, replaying that moment of terror when the charging boar was half a second away from impaling him. The pressure surged and flowed and then released like a stiff muscle unclenching, and when Caruso opened his eyes he found himself surrounded by four walls.
I did it! He let a grin creep onto his face. It had seemed impossible but he had done it. A sigh of relief came as the walls around him slowly began to lower. He looked expectantly towards Miles, maybe his success would earn him a congratulatory nod, perhaps even a smile. But as the walls sucked back into the ground Miles just stood there frowning and shaking his head.
‘No,’ was all he said.
Caruso deflated a bit. ‘What do you mean, no? I did it. I walled!’
‘I know what you did. That’s not how you wall.’
‘But…I walled…what difference does it make?’
‘You remembered an impulsive instinct. No control. Useless. I asked for a small single wall. Try again.’
Caruso deflated all the way. It was unfair. He was so certain he had done it. Only to have Miles rip the success from his grasp... He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take, his head ache was worse than ever, he was hungry and thirsty and desperate for a break, but with Miles there scowling at him he had no choice but to continue.
He reverted back to his previous strategy; staring uselessly at the ground, trying in vain to feel his spine, and ultimately making no progress. After another painfully unsuccessful round of attempts. Miles announced that it was time to eat.
Sweeter words had never been said. All Caruso wanted to do was sit down, switch his brain off, and stuff his face with food and tea.
But Miles held up his hand, ‘Time for me to eat. Not you.’ And with that, he summoned four tall walls around Caruso, boxing him in. Miles stood at the top and frowned down at him. ‘If you want to eat, you will have to escape. And then wall your own way into the compound.’
Caruso stared up at Miles, wondering if perhaps this was some sort of joke. But this was Miles. He didn't seem to exist in the same reality as jokes. Caruso wanted to complain or ask for any last minute advice, but the last thing Caruso needed was for Miles to tell him to “keep trying” or to “feel his spine”.
‘And don’t try and lower my walls,’ Miles added. ‘We cannot manipulate another’s walls. You will need to make your own.’
Then Miles was gone. It was just Caruso and four tall walls and a little square of grass, a pounding headache, an empty grumbling stomach and an unquenched thirst. He slumped down on the ground, exhausted, wanting to give up. What would happen if I did? Would they let me starve to death? Surely not. Surely they will let me out. But then what? Caruso imagined returning back to the compound, everyone knowing that he wasn’t good enough, a failure, weak. The thought made him shudder; he would rather starve to death.
He pushed himself back up onto his feet. For some reason they all assume I'm capable of doing this. Caruso didn’t know why, but wanted to prove them right more than anything. He needed this. Being in Zone 3, if things didn’t work out with the Foresters he had no other options. This was his last shot to fit in somewhere. As long as he was here, he would try his hardest to become a Forester. No matter what it involved.
Focus, Caruso. The lip of the wall was twice as high as he was. He looked down at where the wall needed to appear from, the grassy, flat, wallless ground. Feel your spine. He felt for his spine. There was nothing there, no icy feeling. If anything, his back felt a little hot. At least I can feel something. He concentrated on the heat. It didn’t come from an exact location, just an amorphous sensation. His headache was a squeezing vice on the back of his head, tightening with each heartbeat. That’s odd, Caruso thought. Since when did I get headaches at the back of my head. He recalled Miles tracing his hand up Caruso’s spine, up to the back of his head…where his headache was. It was the exact same spot.
This has to mean something. Caruso tried going into both the tight pain of the headache and the tingling heat on his back. Was it tingling before?
Holding both those sensations in his mind he turned again to the ground, and visualized his wall bursting forth—sure that this time, he had made a breakthrough. But absolutely nothing happened.
Keep trying. He repeated the same steps, then repeated them again, and after achieving nothing he tried again with the exact same results. After each attempt he pictured Miles having to rescue him, lowering the walls with a deep frown, he pictured Ferris looking disappointed and Niko explaining that she must’ve over-estimated his potential. The shame energized him, forced him to keep at it, forced him again and again to attempt his walling even though it seemed hopeless.
Caruso was so lost in his process that he barely noticed the mushroom bouncing off his face. Another purpleveil struck his chest. Caruso glanced up to see Orange straddling the wall above, his waist length hair billowing out behind him.
‘Thought I would need a bigger projectile,’ he said. ‘You looked immensely focused.’
‘I’m trying,’ Caruso said.
‘I could tell. I’m here to inform you that Miles has been called away. Pressing business rangling urchins in the south. Normally, I would love nothing more than to watch you repeatedly bang your head against the wall, but as it happens, I made a wager with Serene and Blue that you would pass this little test today. And I have no intention of losing all my gil. And I mean all of it. Betting on things isn’t exciting unless you stand to lose your mental stability.’
‘Blue and Serene are betting against me?’ That stung a little.
‘I gave them favourable odds. Maybe a little too favourable—I’m not a very good gambler. When I do gamble I just go with my gut and throw my money around until someone agrees to play.’
‘Why do you think I can do this? I’ve been trying all day. I’ve tried everything but nothing works.’
‘If nothing works then why would you try everything?’
‘What?’ The last thing he needed was more cryptic riddles to muddle his thoughts.
‘Tell me, what instructions did our friend Smiles tell you?’
‘Not much.’
‘That’s a promising start.’
‘He said to feel my spine.’
‘Ah, that one’s a classic!’
‘And he tapped me on the head and said “Not from here”.’
‘Perfect. He’s always so efficient with words isn’t he?’
‘But I don’t understand it.’
‘And you think understanding will help?’
‘Well, yes…’
‘But the instruction was specifically “Not from here,”’ Orange tapped his own head. ‘I think he was referring to thinking..’
‘I don’t…understand?’ Caruso massaged his head, trying to smother away the headache.
‘Good, we are making some progress.’ Orange swung his outside leg over the wall and pushed himself off. A couple of threads emerged from atop the wall, looped under Orange’s arms to slow his fall as he dropped down beside Caruso.
‘Could you stop being so vague? How am I supposed to do this if I don’t understand? If I don’t think about it?’
‘Raise your right arm. Seriously, do it.’
Caruso gave an exaggerated exhale—why can’t he just tell me how to wall? He raised his right arm then returned it to his side.
‘Fantastic. Now without moving your arm, I want you to think about moving it. Visualize it moving. Try and command it to move with your mind, and tell me what happens.’
Caruso imagined raising his arm. He instructed it to move, focused on nothing but his arm, and his will for it to move. But his arm remained stubbornly by his side.
‘Marvellous. Now, why didn’t your arm move?’
‘Because…because…’ Something turned over in Caruso’s mind. ‘Huh.’
‘Huh?’
‘Because…’ Caruso waved his arm up and down again. ’When it moves, it doesn’t come from my mind, it comes from my... arm…Wait that’s not right is it? I mean my mind tells my arm to move.’
‘Then why didn’t your arm move when your mind instructed it to?’
Caruso was struggling. He could sense an answer somewhere but it wouldn’t fully emerge. He moved his arm again trying to pinpoint what exactly was making it move. This is ridiculous. Yet at the same time, something about it was making sense.
‘It’s still my mind telling it to move,’ Caruso said closing his eyes and shifting his arm to and fro. ‘But my thoughts don’t truly touch my arm…its something deeper, something beyond my thoughts, something more connected to my body. ’
‘Exactly,’ Orange smiled. ‘And walling comes from the same place. Now, what would you say to someone struggling to move their arm with their thoughts.’
‘I would tell them…I don’t know.’
‘Tricky isn’t it? What would our good pal Smiles say?’
Is he saying Smiles? ‘He would just say “keep trying”.’
Orange laughed, ‘Yes I suppose he would. But what else?’
‘That it doesn’t come from here,’ Caruso tapped his head. ‘That I need to feel my… arm.’
‘And then he would lock you in a room without any food until you figured it out.’
Caruso grinned.
‘Okay, now for the grand finale,’ Orange said. ‘Show me what you got, try and wall your way out of here.’
Caruso got into his normal position. The tingling heat in his back felt a little more defined than last time, it pulsed in rhythm with his headache. He stared at the ground in front of him.
‘What are you doing?’ Orange asked.
‘Focusing on the ground…’
‘But shouldn’t you be focusing on the ground under you?’
‘I wanted to be sure I could actually do it first. What’s the difference?’
‘The difference is that you have resigned yourself to failure. About as useful as trying to run while keeping one foot on the ground.’
A thread emerged down from the top of the wall and wrapped around Orange’s outstretched hand. Orange let the thread take his weight as he walked smoothly up the wall, his long hair cascading down below him.
Caruso waited for him to say something else but once at the top Orange gave a sweeping bow before stepping off the wall without another word. Once again Caruso was left alone inside the walls—only this time it felt like progress.
A new wave of determination settled over him, he was still hungry, still had a pounding headache, yet he felt clearer, less confused.
He stood with his back against one wall and readied himself for another attempt. Instead of staring down at the ground before him, he looked up at his goal, at the lip of the wall. Then he walked forwards, expecting a wall to shoot him upwards. He felt the heat of his back condense into a cool tingle. This is it. Caruso reached up with his hands and leapt for the wall but no wall came and he face-planted against the rubbery mycelium. It was another failure; but this failure felt different. His headache had disappeared too, as if the cold river of his spine had flowed up and washed it away.
Try again.
He stared up again to where he needed to go. This time he would stand still and let a wall lift him up to the surface. The cold in his back felt colder, icier, flowing from the back of his head, down to the base of his spine. But it didn’t stop there. It reached down, beyond, into the ground itself. He sensed this cold energy in the ground around him. It wasn’t his energy, he understood it now as the energy of the entire mycelial network. It was unfathomably vast. It waited, poised, ready to be released.
Now, more connected to this energy, next time Caruso thought about his intended wall, he sensed a build up of pressure. He simply allowed it. And with a satisfying burst, the cold pressure surged up as a wall beneath Caruso, thrusting him up and into the sky.
Too fast. Caruso knew a moment’s panic when the wall jarred to a halt and flung him into the air. With arms and legs flailing awkwardly, Caruso flew several paces up above the walls. The compound and the forest and the sky swirled around him before he crashed painfully onto his stomach, atop the wall he had made.
The breath was knocked out of him, he was winded and had probably cracked a rib. Yet he stood up and did a victory lap around the top of Mile’s four walls. He noticed the icy drip return to his spine, it was barely perceptible, but it was there in the backround, like a muscle waiting to be used. A cool wind blew over him, carrying the scent of crackling meat and roasted spiceshrooms.
Caruso stepped off the edge, allowing a wall to rise and meet him half way. It was clumsily done but at least Miles wasn’t there to frown. He focused on his spine as he approached the compound wall. He felt the cold energy flow beneath him, felt the mycelium waiting for his command. He must’ve been worried about launching himself up in the air, as this time, his wall stopped short, forcing Caruso to jump and clamber up onto the compound wall.