~Dance of Pedals~ (Intermediate Naginata||Self-Moderated)

[Hsin]

~Beginning of Ioannes, Era XI PF~

Few outside the Sodality of Carmelyn knew more than simply the name of Demios. Scholars and school teachers perhaps recognized it as one of the three islands in the collection of islets that composed the Fire Isle, the birthplace of the (in)famous Empress Fire Mystia. Mates and academics perhaps knew the city for the Ivory Wings Universitas. Rich nobles from the cities of the mainland sojourned to the island for its beautiful beaches and luxurious wilderness. They would never understand how much the town perched on the northern end of the island meant to Hsin, or how much his heart had yearned for home during his long era of exile. The Kemite knew well enough from his first step onto the mainland that he would never return to the state of innocence and blissful comfort of childhood. Hana’s influence still touched every facet of his life, binding him to walk the grey lonely path for all eternity. Demios was no longer home. There was no home, save in Her arms. But it became a retreat, a resting place, and somewhere the Kemite could come when the world around him confused and frightened him. Black boots ground against the gravel path winding through the Weaver’s Woods and into the foot hills of the Great Mountains. Hsin Zhou had seen a great deal more than the average citizen during his travels, and witnessed sights that would make even the most hardened veteran faint in fear. He began the long, winding ascent toward the summit of the closest mountain without a second thought. The helm of the black silk Kemite robe he wore fluttered in the light afternoon breeze. In his hands he carried the ribbed handle of Nasaka Ve’chid. The Flower of the Grave.

Months had passed since the Kemite had taught himself to wield the traditional weapon on the cold and lonely training grounds. Aside from occasional dabbling in weapons, his main focus had centered on the arcanic arts. He bore the rank of Journeyman, and its rights and responsibilities. It was a time for the Kemite to explore and learn; to discover and practice the techniques outside the laboratory. But aside from some perfunctory adventures into physical training, Hsin had never devoted himself to pursuing a physical discipline. Mysticism was his passion and worship, but it would do little to save him from cold steels. Daragin had gladly searched the Universitas for an instructor in the naginata. Four hundred crowns secured him a note along with crudely drawn map to a small outcropping in the mountains of Demios. Hsin glanced at the map one last time, confirming he indeed had come to the proper place. Water cascaded from a hot spring on top of a steep cliff, falling thirty feet into a large pool. In turn, this pool wound through a wide and largely empty ridge before plunging once more into the empty air. He walked over to the pool and rested on a large bolder on the pool, biding his time as he gazed out over the city of Demios. From the heights, the town looked like a collection of model houses crafted by a master carpenter. He closed his eyes and began to Meditate, forcing away his thoughts and emotions and entering the nexus of the Astral and Material Plane. Clara.

He opened his eyes and slowly rose to his feet when the young mage heard the steady thumping of large feet against the earth. Some large animal charged up the gravel path at an amazing speed, skidding to a halt and suddenly leaping high into the air. The drake landed on all four legs, its long pink tongue flicking in and out of the air as its cold reptilian eyes stared at Hsin. It came to a stop at the end of the ridge, clawing impatiently at the ground while its rider dismounted and collected a small bundle from its back. She gave the animal a slap on his rear, causing the drake to snort and break into a run toward the top of the mountain. Hsin knew little of the internal affairs of Demios, and yet even he had heard of the elite and mysterious Fire Keepers who caught and tamed the fearsome mountain drakes for mounts. She was short, standing a mere four or five inches above Hsin even with the benefit of thick riding boots. The rider’s face struck Hsin as resembling a Kemite, and yet her dirty blond hair was fastened to the nape of her neck by a pair of wooden needles. Slight peaks marred her ears, a lifelong marking that betrayed her elvish heritage. She carried a naginata as well, though hers seemed far more simple and utilitarian than Hsin’s work of craftsmanship. Grey eyes examined Hsin closely as she let two wooden practice weapons drop into the long grass at her feet. ”Serale, Hsin Nasial-Alque,” she spoke in a soft voice, gripping her weapon in both hand and turned the blade toward her student. ”Daragin spoke highly of you as a student. You are Kemite, and yet your last name sounds…odd.”

”It is a corruption, a mistake,” responded Hsin with a shrug as he advanced his right leg and crouched down. He held the naginata on the left side of his body, concentrating on his instructor in spite of the hazy and indistinct auras of the Astral plane. ”Hsin Zhou is my proper name.”

”And I am Gwendolyn. My mother’s surname was Chiang. Daragin sung your praises, but I prefer to test my students in person. Defend yourself,” she spoke in the same level tone as she charged toward Hsin.

Hsin smiled widely. She had made a cardinal error, charging a mage who’s mind resided in the tenuous state of clara. He quickly created a gateway with the ara of the Material Plane and his own vis. Focusing on the seething, raw Essence of the Psionic Plane, the Journeyman Channeled the Essence into his physical form. Collecting enough mana for a Journeyman level spell, the Exquecher Divined thoughts of sickness and weakness into the raw component. He did not wish to hurt his teacher; but simply to gain an upper edge. Next he Abjured the blob of mana from the Astral Plane and intermingled it with the Material Plane, using the principle of Alteration to spread the mana into the immediate surroundings of Gwendolyn. A simple thought manifested Marchantria, causing the half-Kemite to stumble and fall to her knees. Letting go of Clara, Hsin surged forward and swung his naginata in a downward stroke, knocking her weapon out of her hand before swinging the sword in a downward stroke toward her head.

”I yield,” Gwendolyn managed to gasp in Kemite as she fought to keep the contents of her stomach in her body. Hsin had made a conscious effort to weaken the spell, but it would still take many minutes before the effects would fade. Closing his eyes and concentrating, the Journeyman extended his will and wrenched his vis from the Essence of the spell. Color returned to her face as she slowly regained her footing. ”I will not say it was dishonorable to use your magic,” she ruefully. ”Though is suppose I have only myself to blame for my foolhardiness. Very well. You performed admirably, and I accept you as my student.”

**As a future note, all Kemite will be in red.**

[Hsin]

The Xet scattered the children of Torek and Keme to the winds. After the fall of their kingdom, the Kemites trekked eastwards trough vast plains and scorching deserts. Thousands fell in a futile attempt to forestall the Xet, and thousands more perished on the long march. Some built a new capitol on the banks of the River Lylles, naming it the “New City” in a desperate attempt to recapture their lost glory. Zinn’sunn would become famous in its own right. Scholars and nobles would praise its libraries and its exquisite culture. But it was naught but a pale imitation, a lingering memory of an age long past. For each Kemite who remained in their New City there seemed another who wandered the Empire. Clan after clan had struck off eastward, finding homes in every city from Medonia to Paxia to Vers to even the island of Demios far in the Eastern Sea. Their very identity had warped and shifted during the long dispora. Old assumptions and beliefs were examined and tested in light of their national tragedy. Some changed, evolving into new ideals that would drive the Kemite people onward. Other simply fell by the wayside and were forgotten, like so many Kemites on the long march. Honor and tradition became more and more important with each passing generation. The remaining Kemites gathered in clans and small communities, preserving a small facet of their culture against the darkness that threatened to consume their memories. It was rare for two Kemites of different clans and communities to meet, particularly so far from their homeland. Hsin bit back a wave of questions about the half-Kemite as she knelt on the bank of the pool and washed her face with its warm water.

Finally, unable to take the silence, Hsin returned to his seat on the bolder and studied the Fire Keeper’s face. ”I haven’t met someone who speaks Kemite so well for a long time,” ventured Hsin timidly. ”Where do you…”

”Come from?” she replied in Medonian with a strong Esh’lahier accent. Her grey eyes sparkled with amusement at Hsin’s look of surprise. ”My father was an Esh’lahier, and my mother a young Kemite girl in Lauryl. He named me, and stayed long enough to see me pass into adulthood. Then he disappeared back into the Forest of Dreams. Mayhap to that mysterious marble city everyone says is hidden under its eaves. Have you ever been to Zinn’sunn? I grew up in its streets and its alleys.”

”I was there only briefly. No more than a cycle,” responded Hsin with a small smile and a shrug. ”My clan lives in the city below. I’ve lived here for most of my life, but I’ve been away for the last Era. How did you end up here?”

She laughed, a pleasant sound like the tinkling of silver bears. ”I traveled with several militia bands for years. The Black Fist recruited me three patterns ago, and I’ve fought for him ever since. I’m not as young as I look. My fortieth birthday was only last month. There’s some Kemites here, yes. Not many, but enough for me to feel like I’m at home. It makes me feel like home. I’ve seen your family once or twice, and exchanged some pleasantries with your mother. She’s a wonderful woman.”

Hsin said nothing, his dark eyes suddenly devoid of feelings. He had visited his family only a few candlemarks after his return to Demios. It was a tearful reunion, and his parents had demanded (kindly) to know what he had been doing for the last era. They would never know the secrets he kept hidden beneath a veil of deceptions and half-truths. But they had accepted that Torek had called their eldest son into the world. ”Yes, she is,” he said simply.

”There’s no need to use my full name; I’m not a noblewoman. Gwen is just fine.” the half-Kemite rose to her feet. She bent over and retrieved her naginata from where it lay. She stood and ran a finger of the dull outer edge of the naginata’s blade. ”You learned to wield a naginata on your own. Admirable, perhaps, but it makes teaching you harder. You seem to have a good grasp on the intuitive, but to feeling we must add logic. Everything in moderation. Let us begin with the parts of the blade.” Gwen tapped the parts of the different parts of the weapon with a finger as she spoke. ”This is the tip. The lower convex edge cuts, the upper concave edge is dull but can be used as a surface for parrying. Or striking drunk sailors about the head.” At least she was not completely without humor. ”The blade is bound to the shaft here, along with the a piece of metal that mimics a hilt.” Her’s was a beautifully carved brass piece with a curled dragon ingrained in its surface, while Hsin’s was a piece of blackened steel cast in the shape of a flower. Below is the hilt, and on the far end the butt. The naginata isn’t limited to striking with the blade. Both ends can harm.”

[Hsin]

Much to Hsin’s chagrin the Kemite culture had little arcanic tradition. Mages earned a sort of fluid respect because of the truly immense power they wielded. Elementalists drew enough power with a gesture to reduce a city to charred rubble. Mystics laid bare a man’s deepest, darkest secrets with their will alone. It was respect, but respect tainted with fear and worry. Eleven patterns after the fracture of the Aethergem, few knew exactly what to make of a mage. Practitioners of the martial arts earned an entirely different sort of reputation and respect. No shattering gem stole away centuries of experience and tradition, and warriors young and old continued to practice techniques and traditions dating back to the heyday of the empire. Thousands of years ago weapon masters and generals pooled their techniques and philosophies into schools and styles, many of which had survived the fall of their Empire. Savants disciplined their bodies with experience and practice, and strengthened their minds with honor and righteousness. Their laboratory was the world, and their classroom duels and battlefields. Reminders of their martial heritage permeated every facet of Kemite life. Couples exchanged knives rather than rings, and passed under an arch of upraised swords. When the head of a clan perished, his successor was chosen through a tournament of arms. And when trouble threatened the remnants of the children of Keme, the warriors of Torek rose to its defense.

Inexplicably Gwen laid down her naginata and unlaced her boots and pulled off her socks. She picked her way to the base of the pool and choose a seat on a boulder where the wide pond narrowed back into a stream. ”Lay you’re your arms and come, she said as an arm pointed Hsin to a rock directly across from her own rock. The Kemite obliged, dangling his own bare feet in the pond. ”Stare into the water and relax. Clear away the emotions and doubts that make you weak. Rest.” Her tone became a soft monotone, a whispering scarcely louder than the sound of water crashing into the pool. ”A standing bowl of water appears perfectly still. But if you add a single drop of dye, it spreads and mixes until the entire bowl is contaminated. Look.” Her delicate hands drew a hidden pin out of her hair and pricked a finger. Crimson droplets of blood fell into the calm surface of the pool, spreading and growing into an ugly red-brown splotch before the river swept the taint downstream. ”An imperfect analogy, but a poignant one. I practice the school called the ‘Masquerade of Harmony’. The name speaks well of our philosophy, and our practice. But I will explain our secrets more as you progress.”

She stood and smoothed the helm of her crimson Kemite dress. Two long slits ran up the legs to her upper leg, an obvious concession to physical activity. ”The Masquerade of Harmony uses four different stances with two variations. Each stance is named after a season of the era, and the variations are simple. Darkness and Light. Oriented to the right and oriented to the left, respectively.” Gwen retrieved her weapon yet again from the grass and motioned for Hsin to come and face her. ”We’ll begin with the Darkness of Fall. Stand facing the waterfall with your legs a shoulder length apart. Now, turn your left foot so it runs parallel to the ridge, and turn your body so it faces the direction it points. Good. Hold the naginata near the center of the shaft and point it at the center of my body. Raise the tip slightly.” The half-Kemite demonstrated the stance before abruptly inverting her position. ”Invert the stance and it becomes the Light of Fall The Fall is the most basic stance, one each new student learns in their very first lesson. Its name comes from the blending of life and death as the world moves toward the bleak Winter. It works well for both offense and defense.” Hsin burned the image in his mind, practicing the stance several times in both variations.

”Which leads us naturally to the Darkness of Winter.” she continued without a pause. ”Drop the blade and twist the blade so it points upwards and at your opponents feet. Keep the tip a few inches above the ground, and the butt of your weapon level with your ear. The Light of Winter is again simply an inversion, the polar opposite of the darkness. Winter is the season of death and reflection, where nature grows still and waits to return to life. It is a stance best suited for defense, and the attack against a foe.” Again, she took a few moments to offer small corrections as Hsin assumed both the light and the dark variations. ”The Darkness of Spring is the first aggressive stance that lets you strike quickly. Begin with the Darkness of Fall and invert your hands, then draw the blade back until the butt points toward an opponent. Light of Spring is again the same, with the grip inverted. Spring begins the revival of life and the struggle to grow after the long winter.” For the third time Hsin practiced the stances. ”The final stance is the Darkness of Summer. Begin from the Darkness of Fall and raise your naginata above your head until the butt points at the lower torso of your foe. And again the same with the Light of Summer. It gives you greater speed, power, and distance, at the cost of defense. Summer is the final season, the antithesis of winter.” For the fourth and final time, Hsin assumed the stance and seared the lessons into his memory.

[Hsin]

Gwendolyn’s grey eyes scrutinized her fellow Kemite’s limbs, joints, and hands as she slowly circled. The drill began simply enough with Hsin standing normally holding the naginata loosely parallel with his body. She barked out a stance and Hsin complied, or at least tried to comply before he felt the kiss of her naginata against his neck. Nothing improved memory and promoted learning quite like feeling chilly steel sliding along the back of the head. This continued a significant portion of a candlemark, before the half-Kemite teacher set aside her naginata and picked up a pair of wooden and bamboo practice weapons. ”Here,” she shouted at Hsin before tossing the weapon toward her student. Hsin ducked and raised a hand, catching the shaft as it soared through the air above his head. Nasaka Ve’chid he deposited gently beneath a small hollow in the rock. ”Daragin said you trained intensely,” she mused. ”But you do not look like a soldier. Why?

Why? The question made Hsin’s lips curl into a brief smile. Why did he fight? Simple questions did not require simple answers. They left circumstances and conditions beautifully vague, forcing the questioned to assume. And guess. And ultimately to entangle themselves in their own self justifications. One part of Hsin fought to simply live. Death simply frightened him. He could not pierce the veil between the present and eternity with science or arcana, nor learn from the experiences of others. Two conflicting emotions waged war in his mind: the fear of death, and his longing for the one who waited for him. Another par of his psyche lusted after power. Not simply the power to kill, but instead the power to utterly destroy and ruin a life. Why? ”To protect, and to defend,” he finally answered after a long moment of though.

Her tinkling laughter once again filled the ridge, a sound of mirth and mocking. ”A masquerade, a disguise, a veil to hide your intentions,” she suddenly snapped. Grey eyes flared, but with an emotion Hsin could not fathom. Hatred? Anger? Annoyance? ”Neither a lie or a truth, neither black or a white. Instead you produce a balance of the two in harmony. But enough.”

She assumed the Darkness of Fall with her naginata pointing toward Hsin. ”Everything in its proper measure. We have done enough simple drilling, and you have enough experience so I do not have to spoon feed you. We will duel, Kemite. Fight until you can barely stand. Struggle until your lungs gasp for breath. Make of it what you will.”

”From stance we trace the path to motion,” Gwen continued without pause. ”Watch my feet.” Her feet did not deviate once from the rough L formed by her left and right foot. The right foot came forward first, touching the ground just in front of the left and forming an inverted L. The left foot moved next, advancing forward until she once again formed the rough L. Moving backwards followed the same pattern, save with the left foot advancing first. In sharp contrast to Hsin’s haphazard steps, her upper body and naginata seemed to remain rock solid. ”This step is primarily for movement and approach,” Gwen explained briefly before assuming the Light of Fall and repeating the steps. Everything in its proper measure, and apparently the Masquerade of Harmony believed strongly in a measure of ambidexterity. Hsin followed suit and began go move back and forth, his feet somehow happier with the flow of movements. The Darkness stance all held the right foot in the back, an inversion of the stance taught with the sword. Abruptly Gwen stopped and assumed the Darkness of Spring. ”When you attack, you can use two different types of steps. In the first, you step forward with your right foot and draw your first forward. It gives you more stability.” She lunged forward, dragging her left foot as she chopped downward toward Hsin’s leg. He simply took a few steps backwards and blocked her edge with the flat of his blade.

”The second allows you to strike from a distance,” the half-Kemite continued without a blink, assuming the Darkness of Summer. Her steps now resembled the standard movement, albeit several magnitudes faster. Hsin responded by assuming the Darkness of Winter and the sound of their blades meeting rang across the ridge. They sparred for several more candlemarks, exchanging simple attacks as the Kemite mastered the art of moving in a straight line. For each strike made in the Darkness variation, Gwen made him perform an attack in the Light variation. Her comments and criticism focused on the entirety of his movements, and not simply the legs. The young journeyman quickly learned to keep his upper body straight and level, no matter what kind of footwork he was performing. Slowly she began to deviate from side to side, moving two or three steps in a given direction to foul her opponent’s perception. The steps were simple. When moving right, the right foot stepped to the right and the left followed. When moving to the left, the left foot moved to the left and the right foot followed. It was a simple concept, but a concept that radically altered the dynamics of their sparring. The combatants began to circle each other, feinting and parrying as they sought a weak spot in their opponent’s defenses. Changing directions simply involved turning from the Darkness variation to the Light variation and bringing the naginata to bear. It sounded simple enough, but was infinitely more difficult to exercise when Gwen suddenly appeared behind him.

[Hsin]

Gwendolyn Chaing ended the first brightening’s lessons with a polite bow and a list of items for Hsin to bring on the morrow. There was little for the Kemite to do save shoulder his naginata and begin the long trek through the Weaver’s Woods back to the town of Demios. He ate more than his usual share that night in the Leap of Faith, and certainly spent a little bit longer resting in the nearest hot spring. The sulfurous water did wonders for aching limbs and tired joints, two ailments that plagued Hsin whenever he chose to indulge in rigorous physical activities. It was not a bad feeling, and indeed held a measure of warm pride at a job well done. If it hurt so much, surely it must have been good for you. Personally the Kemite thought the conclusion downright ridiculous. Without any sort of fanfare he packed a small backpack with a change of clothing, sixty odd feet of rope, a small meal, and a full water skin. He went to bed early that night, falling into a deep sleep. Dreams he had aplenty, albeit none strong enough to linger after the light of dawn and the crow of the rooster woke him. Dressing quickly in a grey wool shirt and home-sewn brown slacks, the Kemite shouldered his pack and grabbed his naginata. A candlemark of fast walking brought him once again to the ridge. Gwen had already arrived, and sat on her favorite boulder petting the snout of her drake and whispering sweet nothings in its ears. She ware clothing not unlike Hsin’s, donning a simple commoner’s outfit for the day’s activities. Both of their hair had been pulled back and fastened with leather straps. It was an annoyance to have stray strands floating into one’s field of vision. ”Leave your pack and your weapon over there,” she ordered as a long thin finger pointed to an overhang. ”Dear Xora will watch our possessions. There’s naught to fear when a drake stands guard.”

She rose to her feet and stretched her back, extending her arms and lacing her fingers together over her head as her lithe and boyish figure bent to and fro. ”There. Join me for a run through the mountain, Hsin. I scouted the path this morning on Xora’s back. There’s no need for ropes and climbing equipment.”

To his hidden shame Hsin began to day’s exercise reasoning that he could handle most forms of physical exercise without too much trouble. A mere quarter of a candlemark into the climb the Kemite had begun to radically alter his opinion. Gwen showed no mercy to her student, setting a blistering pace as she ran upwards through the rocky planes. They leapt from rock to rock, dancing on fragile footing that seemed all too willing to slip and slide down the mountain. It was not a merely test in endurance and speed, but also a measure of agility and dexterity. Their path looped down to the lower slopes, dashing through forests of pine and dodging the low branches. After perhaps a candlemark, the pair changed directions and once again began to climb. Even the half-Esh’lahier had begun to pant, even though the pounding of her iron legs never faltered. The same could not be said of Hsin, who struggled to keep breathing as he gritted his teeth and soldiered on. Three candlemarks after the beginning of their run, Kemite and half-Kemite finally reached the peak of the mountain and gazed northward across the Weaver’s Woods, over the little town of Demios, and out across the endless Great Sea. ”Wasn’t the climb worth the view?” asked Gwen as she crossed her hands over her chest. Hsin was sprawled on the ground with his back resting against a rock, breathing in the thin mountain air with deep gasps. Her steely grey eyes turned back to her student. ”Grey does not come only from mixing a little black with a little white. Mix together equal measures of the darkest black and the purest white and, in the end, you still have grey. Great pain must be balanced with great pleasure, and ruthlessness tempered with mercy. Don’t you agree the view was worth the climb?”

Hsin could not bring himself to agree. Student and teacher quickly descended the switchbacks and trails of the mountain, arriving back at their ridge in the middle of the day. The reason she had told him to bring a change of clothing quickly became apparent, as Gwen turned her back and began to unbutton her shirt. ”Go up to the ridge and don’t you dare look down,” she offered in a sugary voice. ”Or I’ll have Xora eat you.” Hsin quickly complied, kneeling at the edge of the upper ridge and closing his eyes in meditation. Perhaps half a candlemark later she tapped his shoulder and they exchanged places. The Kemite gladly shed his sweaty clothing washed the dirt and grime from his skin, making a point to avoid looking at the drake who gazed at him like the human was a mere moving snack. He pulled himself out of the water and dried himself, donning the long black Kemite robe and calling to Gwen. They both ate their packed meals with the minimum of polite conversation, exchanging opinions about the weather and the thane. ”Enough of this,” Gwen finally said and retrieved the practice naginata from the under hang. ”We have worked long enough on the basics of stance and motion. Now we shall move on to strikes. You seem competent enough with your weapon, but you also sport glaring missteps. Some of your slashes seem, perhaps, overly dramatic. Speed and movement are of the essence, and a true opponent will not give you time to pause in your swing or shift your grip. Do not use your old slashes and thrusts any more. We will rebuild your style from the ashes.”

Student and teacher bowed to each other and assumed the Darkness of Fall and slowly began to circle. ”We begin with the Rushing Breeze. Leave the blade of your naginata pointed downward and align the tip with your target. Do not drag your feet. Thrust your weapon forward at the last moment.” She demonstrated and thrust the weapon forward with blinding speed. Hsin stepped to the side and the wooden haft of her naginata to the side. They circled for a few moments before Hsin paused for a brief moment before taking two quick steps forward and thrusting the blade toward the center of Gwendolyn’s chest. To his surprise, she danced backwards just far enough so the tip of the blade kissed her stomach. ”Your pause betrays your attack, though in all other matters the thrust seems well enough. When you raise your right foot, advance it forward immediately. Speed and precision go hand in hand. Try again.” They began to circle again, before Hsin changed direction mid-step and lunged forward, angling his blade upwards at her shoulder. His aim was faulty, however, and it passed above her shoulder. He paused for a moment, trying to deduce what had gone wrong, when he felt the tip of her blade poke into his stomach. ”Never hesitate. If you fail, rebuild yourself and try until you succeed. But a word of advice. In competition there are a handful of scoring zones: the abdomen, the wrists, the face, the hands, and the shins. Reality is no competition, but it’ll help you think of targets.” Nearly a candlemark passed as Hsin practiced thrusting at the agile Gwen. He varied the targets, sometimes aiming for the wrists and the head, but focused mainly and improving the strength and speed of his thrust.

[Hsin]

Beauty very much dwelt in the mind of the beholder. Mere brightenings after taking the mantle of Exquecher of Centripax, Hsin Zhou made a pilgrimage of sorts to the ruined city of Zerdargia. His dark eyes gazed over the cracked and torn landscape and saw the immense craters created by arcanic explosions. His black boots trod the ground where thousands of knights fell, not to the dark necromancy of the shadowy attackers, but to the arcanic storm created by the Church of Faith. The Kemite stood still and silent atop the hills of stone and masonry that once formed the walls of Zerdargia. In the cycles following the battle, what civilians and soldiers remained did their best to provide a proper resting place for the fallen. At first shallow graves were dug in cold and icy soil for the brave defenders of the province. But the winter chill made digging thousands upon thousands of graves utterly impractical and neigh impossible. Each army dug enormous trenches and entombed the fallen in a twisted mass of frozen bodies and equipment. No such consideration was shown to the bodies of the fallen attackers. Undead corpses and Vysstichi bodies alike were thrown into enormous fire pits to have their mortal shells consumed by the purifying flame. Even now no grass grew over their ashes, and the animals of the fields and the birds of the air seemed to avoid it. The Kemite wandered through the battlefield unguided, seeing the peaceful plane with his sight and the battle in his mind’s eye. Everything seemed to possess an eerie, otherworldly beauty. His path brought him from the rocky rubble of the city out into the center of the field, where the young Exquecher stumbled upon a sun bleached skull and a rusted sword hidden beneath a low bush. That, too, had possessed its own beauty.

Gwendolyn and Hsin stood motionless in the middle of the ridge, the wooden blades of each naginata gently kissing as the cross in the air between their still bodies. ”What do you think of me Hsin?” she wondered out loud as her body lunged forward and thrust the naginata toward Hsin’s chest. ”An honorable warrior, deserving of praise and position?” The Kemite danced to the right away from the thrust, before riposting with his own toward her wrists. The half-Kemite spun away from the strike and turned to face Hsin again, her body poised in the Darkness of Fall. Her voice suddenly became as bitter and cutting as the north wind. ”Or perhaps a punishment levied against my parents for their sins?”

They began to circle each other but remained in silence, their weapons crossing in the neutral ground between them. Her grey eyes flickered mirthlessly as she carefully scrutinized his body and his face. ”Or am I simply goading you, provoking you until your mind leaves the moment? And again, we see everything in its proper amount,” Gwen spoke as she slowly lifted the naginata above her head, as if shifting to the Darkness of Summer. ”The naginata is a beautifully piece of art. Its balance and its blades lets us slash instead of simply thrusting. Falling Wind is the simplest of the slashes, performed from the Fall or the Summer stances. There is no primary target, and it strikes everything from the head to the shins. Her blade came flashing downwards, catching Hsin off guard and landing a glancing blow on his shoulder. The purpose of the Darkness of Summer became clearer and clearer to Hsin. Performing a slash of any sort from the Fall stance gave the opponent ample opportunity to prepare for an attack. But an opponent watching Hsin holding the naginata above his head would have no such warning. He waited until an opening seemed to present itself before springing into a flurry of action. Beginning in the Light of Summer he rushed forward two full steps before bringing the blade crashing down toward Gwyn’s shoulder. She blocked the blow above her shoulder with the shaft of her naginata, using it like a bo-staff to stop the wooden blade from striking her shoulder.

”Too slow. You possess strength, or strength enough for the time being. Speed and agility. There are many variants of the Falling Wind, each with a different movement and target. Falling Lightning is the simplest of these. Begin in a Fall stance and raise the naginata. Do not hesitate and do not deviate—simply bring the blade straight down toward the head,” the woman said in the same soft, pleasant voice. Before she could take more than a step, Hsin suddenly stopped circling and stepped quickly forward while still in the Darkness of Fall. His hands and his weapon moved as he lunged forward, first rising above his head and then flashing downward at Gwendolyn’s head. Once again she parried with the shaft of her weapon, though it was clear that a successful blow would have split her skull. Once again they sparred and practiced, spending the lion’s share of their time in the Fall and Summer stances. Moreover, they began to string a series of attacks together. Rushing Waters and then Falling Winds. Or Falling Lightning followed by Rushing Waters.

[Hsin]

Gwendolyn halted their lessons for a few moments to re-bind her dirty blond hair, and to reflect on their progress. Her head tilted upwards, grey eyes gazing idly at the passing clouds. Even at rest she masked her intensions. ”We’re making good progress,” the half-Kemite said in a firm voice that made her seem happy. ”But we will linger on the basics for another few brightenings.” Her lips pursed together for a moment, before the words suddenly tumbled out of her mouth. ”Which sphere do you wield?”

The question struck Hsin like a sharp blow to the kidneys. His hands were still raised over his head when she spoke, tightening the leather strap that held his hair. It took only a moment for him to slip his right hand into his left sleeve and grip the handle of a short throwing knife. Gwen seemed to gaze at Hsin with rising alarm, her grey eyes boring into Hsin head. Deep undercurrents of anger and annoyance rose through Hsin’s mind, calling him into account for his foolish application of his magical energies. He should have known better. Slowly he crafted a response, before speaking in a cold and calm voice. ”I do not tread the dark path of necromancy.”

There were precious few other spheres capable of inflicting intense, debilitating nausea. Druids perhaps could fashion a spell to that ends, though the level of competency required spoke of a journeyman or a master. Ikosmancers could perform a similar feat, though she had seen him trace no runes. A Song mage could possibly craft a piece of conflict and dissonance, but Hsin had no instrument and had spoken no words. Only Mysticism remained as a viable alternative. And that possibility seemed to sit badly with Gwendolyn. Questions seemed to rise to her lips, but the half-Esh’lahier bit back her words and once again took up the naginata. ”Very well,” she spoke after a long sigh.

Smooth crimson silk rustled in the afternoon breeze as Gwendolyn set her body in the Darkness of Summer. Slowly she advanced on her student, feigning slashes once or twice to throw off Hsin. Her first slash cut whistled through the air, striking the shaft of Hsin’s naginata as he stood in the Light of Winter. She smiled slightly as her blade slid downwards, backing off and shifting to the Light of Fall. ”Before we continue, perhaps we could take a moment to define our parries. Veil of Wood uses the shaft of your weapon block,” she instructed as Hsin shifted to the Light of Fall and thrust at her torso. The shaft of her weapon caught Hsin’s blade and knocked it away from her body. ”The second we’ll cover is the Veil of Metal Hsin lifted the weapon over his head brought it down upon his teacher’s shoulders. Gwendolyn danced to the side and caught the Kemite’s wooden blade with her own. Constant practice and fitness had improved Hsin’s handling of the weapon, though there still remained a great deal to go. Gwendolyn began to rain attacks on Hsin, each stronger and faster than before. In response he slowly backed away, parrying and blocking until the rate her attacks seemed to wane. A sudden burst of inspiration struck Hsin, as he remembered the formal targets. The next time she swung, Hsin dodged to the side and raised his weapon up, as if slashing at the head. But instead of following through the traditional maneuver, he gently rapped Gwendolyn’s wrists. ”Good, good!” she explained happily as she viscously twisted the naginata and battered Hsin on the left side of his chest. ”Falling Thunder is of little use save against other wielders of pole arms, but a useful tool.”

They separated only briefly before resuming their slow, circling dance around each other. ”Watch my movements carefully,” instructed Gwen as she began to shift her naginata from one side of his body in what seemed to be a random fashion. However, as Hsin looked closer, her blade seem to waver from one important part of the body to the next. Shin, wrist, throat, head, chest, arms. There was a pattern, but it was a pattern of boundaries and not a pattern of movements. ”Fickle Will is only truly useful for the Fall stance,” she explained as she suddenly lashed out and nicked the Kemite’s shoulder. ”Everything in its proper measure, and deception as well.” She continued to weave and strike, nicking Hsin a dozen times before the Kemite learned to read her movements. Candlemarks passed as she taught him to hide his movements and intensions behind a shifting will. He learned to disguise his own intensions and, at the same time, read an opponent’s thoughts from their gaze and their posture. Each passing minute made their dance more complicated, more fickle. Hsin was slowly learning to think and to plan, to ration his movements and make each new movement a threat.

[Hsin]

Evening came on the heels of a raging summer thunderstorm that drove Gwendolyn and Hsin to take refuge in the questionable shelter provided by an overhanging ledge. Neither seemed particularly inclined to speak, and the only information of substance that passed between them concerned the scheduling of their next lesson. The Journeyman contented himself with Meditating and performing some impromptu research on a flock of seagulls. When the rain seemed to slacken, Gwen let loose another piercing whistle and summoned Xora. Hsin waited another candlemark before gathering his belongings and beginning the long trek back to town. Once again the Kemite ate his evening meal in solitude, and washed the sweat and grime off his skin. Half a candlemark of reading and casting frittered away the last of his energies, and after the Kemite fell into a deep and exhausted sleep before the sun had fully set below the horizons. N’malise woke him from his slumber in the grey dusk of the early morning. The little alicat had curled up on his pillow and, purely by accident, fluffed her wings directly into her master’s face. After spending a few moments testing his sore legs and limbs, the Kemite rose and stuffed a change of clothing and some food into a satchel. With his naginata slung over his shoulders the Kemite slipped out of the city in the pre-dawn gloom and covered the handful of miles to the ridge in a brisk run. Here he left his clothing and weapons hidden behind some dead underbrush and some rubble. And though his mind and muscles screamed protests Hsin set off at a blistering pace up the steep mountainside toward the peak. Physical endurance came not merely through practice or the application of the mind, but from constant training.

Unfortunately without example set by his half-Esh’lahier teacher, the Kemite did not quite manage to cover the same amount of distance or remain at the same speed. He returned to the ridge three candlemarks before the sun reached its zenith. In penance the Kemite began to exercise the muscles of his tired and sore body. Score after of pushups and sit-ups brought him once again to the brink of exhaustion, followed by a slow and leisurely bath in the warm pool. Hsin Zhou heard the familiar thumping of muscled reptilian legs striking the wet earth, and the snorts and heavy breathing of the black drake as it vaulted onto the ridge. ”Serale,” greeted Gwendolyn breathlessly as she dismounted and retrieved the trio of naginata from the saddle. ”There Hatchlings could not seem to master their drills today.”

Neither had ever spoken frankly about their occupations. Hsin merely assumed Gwendolyn held some sort of military rank and taught at the local Universitas to supplement her income. And she no doubt thought him an eccentric merchant with interest in magic and warfare. Exchanging the usual pleasantries, they took up their wooden practice weapons and stood in the Darkness of Fall with their weapons crossed. The half-Kemite did not seem to waste time, launching a flurry of attacks that tested the limits of Hsin’s abilities. More than a few slipped past his guard and landed on his thin frame. ”Impressive,” she grudgingly admitted as the half-Esh’lahier backed away. ”You demonstrate an admirable grip on the basics of the naginata. Today we begin to study some more advanced techniques. We begin with the Veil of Shadows. Thrust at me.” Hsin obliged and sent the tip of his naginata flying through the air at her body. Instead of simply blocking or backing away, the teacher flicked the Kemite’s blade downwards with the blade of her own weapon and directed Hsin’s inertia and powering into the ground. At the same time she followed up with a thrust of her own and landed a solid blow in the center of his body. ”Again we see a mixture and a merging. Defense, and offense in its proper combination.” Explanation and theory aside, the Veil of Shadows proved a great deal more difficult to learn than to execute. It took careful preparation and agility to predict the path of an opponent’s blow, and then to move in response at the same time. Following up with another thrust required decisions made in a split second, and a weighing of risk against possible outcomes.

True to her word Gwendolyn taught through sparing and not simply mindless drilling. She showed Hsin the mechanics and the basics until the Kemite could perform the movement with some semblance of competency, and then deposited him in the harsh arena of true combat. They circled and feigned, shifting the points of their weapons back and forth in a complicated demonstration of the Fickle Will. Spotting a gap in the Kemite’s defense, Gwen thrust forward and tapped the forehead of Hsin’s head with the tip of her naginata. ”Rushing Lightning,” she said as she danced away and thrust again. This time she aimed low, painfully striking Hsin’s shins. ”And Rushing Rain.” Two more attacks to add to the Kemite’s slowly growing tools. In particular Hsin began to develop a liking for Rushing Lightning in concert with the Veil of Shadows. Once or twice he managed to flick Gwen’s weapon downward and then land a solid blow on the soldier’s exposed neck. But she gradually adapted and began to parry his trusts with the Veil of Wood. He learned almost as much watching her as attacking himself, learning how to react to everything from a simple thrust to a complicated chain of attacks. Everything in its proper measure, and fighting did not banish intelligence.

[Hsin]

Gwendolyn’s mood seemed as fickle as the edge of her naginata, running the gamut from frenzied pleasure to a deep and raging hatred. They spoke not a word to each other as their lithe bodies danced along the ridge and the chipped woods of their blades flew through the air. She yielded no ground and gave no quarter, drenching her student in an unending rain of blows. The Kemite had seen the storm clouds gathering from the beginning, and adopted a defensive mindset. His stance varied between Fall and Winter to parry her thrusts and her swings respectively, doing his very best at all times to simply dance out of her way. It was far easier to say and intent than to do. Each time he managed to back away, the half-Esh’lahier changed her aim and struck at his hands and wrists. The young journeyman’s own attempts to turn the table resulted in a series of painful blows to the head and torso. Out of frustration and anger the Kemite began to take more risks. Instead of remaining forever on the defensive, he began to exploit the smallest openings. Sometimes he succeeded and managed to knock Gwen off balance. Most of the time he simply received a painful blow for his stupidity. In true combat the Kemite would already have perished many times over, his lifeblood stolen away by a thousand tiny cuts. Sparring simply served as a tool and a vehicle to toughen his body and sharpen his mind. Iron sharpens iron, and wood sharpens wood. At least in theory, for Gwendolyn seemed to thoroughly enjoy every moment of his agony and every suppressed cry of pain. She pushed him against the shores of the pool and seemed to pause, giving her student enough time to thrust at her body. Stepping to the side, she stood in the Darkness of Spring and swung her weapon fast and low. Hsin felt a burning pain lancing through his shins that sent him tumbling to the ground.

Hsin regained his feet slowly, using his naginata as a crutch. Quickly he took up the Darkness of Winter and faced his teacher. The violent, leering gaze had left Gwendolyn’s face and disappeared once again into the ether. Her posture and breathing spoke of exhaustion, or at least fatigue. But her grey eyes remained as cold and unreadable as ever. ”There is a beauty in the fight, a thrill I find only on the battlefield,” she offered up as meager explanation. ”It gives strength and power, if you are willing to seize and revel in the moment.”

She began to circle the Kemite as she stood in the Darkness of Spring with her naginata drawn behind her back. Hsin performed a series of tight, quick steps to turn in place and face his pursuer. The fire that burned in her seemed to have disappeared, at least for a moment. ”We have done much in three of the four stances. Spring has its own attacks, with their own styles and their own dangers. Watch.” Gwen rotated her upper body and swung her weapon in a tight arc, crashing into the shaft of Hsin’s naginata as he parried with the Veil of Wood. If the Kemite had not been so quick, and they were not sparring, her blade would have bit cleanly into his side. ”Sweeping Breeze.” She pulled back her blade and took a few steps to her right, before swing the weapon in an arc again. This time she dropped the butt end of the weapon and angled the weapon at the Kemite’s head. ”Sweeping Lightning.” Another repositioning of her body and she swung again, sweeping the blade low and angling the blow at Hsin’s shins. ”Sweeping Rain.” He took a step backwards and flicked her blade downwards, following up with a thrust to her thigh. The Veil of Shadows. A wan smile came over her face before the Fire Keeper stood in the Light of Winter. Hsin practiced the attack clumsily several times, getting used to the strange stance and the stranger movement. Gwendolyn did not seem all too pleased by her student’s tardiness and struck him twice in quick secession on the neck.

[Hsin]

Each passing candlemark gradually erode away Gwendolyn’s tolerance for small mistakes, and all for good reason. Wooden naginata drew no blood and caused no injury besides bruises and bruised egos. Nor did they give a perfect theater to re-create the rigors of true warfare. The half-Esh’lahier chose weapons laced with lead weights, teaching and drilling Hsin with a weapon heavier than any reasonably crafted naginata. She could cite many reasons for her choices. Each swing strengthened Hsin’s muscles and exercised his balance, serving as a handicap that encouraged the Kemite to build his skills ever further. During the first few lessons she forgave small errors and gave the young journeyman precious seconds to aim and perform attacks. Now each blow came on the heel of the last, forcing Hsin to dispense with calm reasoning and to flow with the tide of the moment. Blocking a thrust or exploiting a weakness no longer required reasoning and anticipation; instead it became a matter of reflex. When Gwendolyn seemed poised to slash low at his shins, the Kemite prepared to redirect her blow and riposte with the Veil of Shadows.. And when she began to bring her naginata up for an downward slash, Hsin shifted into the Darkness of Winter. Gwen seemed pleased by her student’s progress, but his growing confidence did nothing to lighten the load of abuse she seemed to revel in dealing. If anything, it increased her fervor. ”You see me bringing my weapon over my head, and you prepare for a blow to your upper body. Watch the Falling Rain,” she instructed before standing in the Light of Summer with her naginata raised high over her head. Her small feet took two quick steps forward before the slashing downwards. Her blade fell a foot to the right of Hsin, before turning abruptly and slashing into his shin.

Hsin also took up the Darkness of Summer and circled carefully around Gwendolyn. In mid-step he suddenly sprung forward, picking up each foot to rapidly decrease their distance. At the same time he swung the naginata downwards, sweeping the blade low and striking a glancing glow to her lower leg. There were no doubt a number of useful applications, particularly when an opponent though he could only strike at the head. ”And so we finish the half-score of attacks,” commented Gwendolyn as she took a brief pause. ”We shall practice them until your hands grow red and blistered. But for now we begin to study combinations, mixtures of attacks to confuse and injure an opponent.” She stood once again in the Darkness of Summer and took two quick slashes at Hsin in quick succession. ”Raging Lightning ties two slashes to the head and the shoulders. Learn to balance speed and power, and never sacrifice your initiative.” Once again the half-Esh’lahier demonstrated the combination. Hsin managed to block the first blow, but she raised the blade a few feet and struck again at the opposite shoulder. The first blow would always have an inherent power from the length of the spring, but Hsin quickly found that Raging Lightning could extend to encompass more than two or three strikes. Gwendolyn once strung together six, but it’s success lay more in Hsin’s defensive mindset than her skill. He could have responded with his own attack and easily ruined her initiative. They sparred and danced, swirling in ever tightening circles as the sun once again dipped below the horizon.

Once again they exchanged the formal pleasantries of parting before Gwendolyn mounted her drake and returned to her barracks. Hsin lingered, kneeling on the edge of the ridge and listening to the soft crash of the water falling into the small pool. Slowly he pushed away the emotions and the worries that made him human, clearing his mind of physical sensations and Meditating. As always the auras of the Astral Plane began to manifest and play along his senses. For once he dawdled in clara, searching the forests below until he found a nearby flock of birds suitable for his purposes. The principle behind his newest spell was simple, and at first glance would seem exactly the same as a Suggestion. However, the new spell differed in the type of thought Divined to the target. Instead of sending conscious thoughts, Hsin would craft deeper sensations and feelings. In practice it was far more like an Enfeeblement. Drawing the faint ara of the Material Plane into his own bodies, Hsin Focused his mind on the seething essence of the Psionic Plane. He Channeled enough mana for an initiate spell, before setting about the careful steps of crafting. Divination sent thoughts and sensations, and the Kemite Journeyman imprinted upon the glob of mana with one of the many voices he’d heard in the river Umbalt. It was a high, shrieking scream, laden with sorrow and pain, that rattled the mind and made those who heard scramble to cover their ears. He amplified the soft noise several-fold, building the scream into a horrible keening cry. With a mere thought Hsin manifested the spell and watched the bird take to the sky and flee toward the town.

~OOC~:
Spell approved by GM Dragon via PM. Information as Follows:

Spell Name: Banshee’s Scream
Discipline: Mysticism
Proficiency Level Required: In