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DRAGONMOUNT

A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY
TaiDashan

To Learn What Power Is (Attn: Myyrth)

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Fanten suppressed a sigh as the Dedicated delivered his message. He thanked the lad and dismissed him. Getting to his feet he set aside the metal he had been shaping with the power. He had never learned blacksmithing, but shaping something with the power was much like shaping men. He wove air and brought his sword across the room to him, buckling it on as he walked to the traveling grounds, still holding Saidin. He wove, and tore a hole in the air. He looked around sternly as he entered the training grounds on the other side. Almost immediately he found his trainee, dark brown hair looking no worse for the wind. The man looked a bit disheveled but Fanten forgave him that. He was fairly new to the tower from the report he had received. 

 

Gathering his military command like the black cloak he wore, he strode over purposefully, waiting for the man's eyes to find his. "Soldier Filk I presume?" He asked roughly. He waited to see how the man would respond, and if the man would drop his eyes. A lot could be said about someone's character by their response to authority. 

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Filk had waited for the last thirty minutes, schooling himself in every manner of discipline he knew.  The last week had been a long harsh lesson in the ways of his new life.  He woke up early with the rest of the boys in his barracks, as the most junior of the Soldiers many menial tasks fell to him.  It was galling, considering the age difference between him and some of the others that he should have to carry buckets of water and wash floors while much younger boys could sit and train or study at their leisure.  Most of the lads told him it got easier as your mastery of Saidin improved, then you would be expected to to use the power in all things.  Still aside from extremely basic training in the most simple of weaves he had not yet learned how to life a bucket with Air, let alone kill with the power.  Wasn't he being trained to be a weapon?  What if the Tower was attacked now and he was helpless to defend himself?  He scratched at his beard and shifted his stance.

 

He had to suppress a smile, the thought of Myrddraal and Trollocs raiding the tower still filled him with skepticism.  Despite the deadly serious looks on some of the senior Asha'man as they talked about their encounters in battle with Shadowspawn it seemed a farce.  Sender straightened his coat and pulled at its tight high collar, it squeezed his neck and made him feel self-conscious.  He was the bloody thing made him look like he had a double chin.  Sighing he rocked back on his heels and looked round.  Seeing no one he cupped his palms and embraced the Void.  He was becoming more practiced at this, though it still required him to stoke a hot fire of anger.  Tentatively, trying to grasp barely a tendril, he seized Saidin.  Weaving a small thread of fire he cupped the small ball of heat in his hands.  The scar tissue on his wounded hand was easily visible under the flickering flame.  He smiled, he could feel the heat steady and almost unnatural in it's intensity pulse with the movement of his consciousnesses.

 

"Soldier Filk I presume?"  The flame winked out immediately and with it the void, he let his hands drop to his sides.  Snapping to attention he turned and looked towards the source of the voice.  He felt immediately embarrassed feeling the heat rise in his face.  With the void gone his emotions welled up again like a geyser, all the hate he had used before to feed the void seemed to lash back at him.  Mother's milk in a cup, blasted light-forsaken fool, don't be weak.  He felt the voice rise up inside him, hateful and loud it seemed for a moment to roar in his ears like the thump of his own heart.  Cowardly milk-heart, turn your head up, bloody idiot.  Straighten that chin, look him in the eye.

 

"Sir!" He said.  Blinking he stared at the mans nose.  He felt his lip quiver and worried for a moment that he might start to cry.  Die if you do fool, milk-hearted wretch, be a man.  He struggled against the anger for a moment, shoving it down in a brief internal struggle.  "Yes Sir, Soldier Filk reporting for weapons training sir!"  He was in control now.  Weakness was nothing to him, a foreign concept.  He would be strong.

Edited by Myyrth

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Fanten's brows furrowed in disapproval as he watched the soldier release Saidin like a guilty child stealing sweets. An expression which only deepened as the blush turned into an obvious battle for emotion on the young man's face. Finally though, the man looked him in the face. His lip quivered ever so slightly, yet the man seemed to wrestle control of himself. 

 

"Yes Sir, Soldier Filk reporting for weapons training sir!"

 

Fanten stood with his hands clasped behind his back, and let his gaze pierce the man in silence for a moment. The boy was green, and showed a propensity to be ashamed of his actions. There was weakness there. The man should have calmly released Saidin, and took what punishment was coming if he had been wrong. Above all, he was emotionally volatile. Fanten sighed to himself. Well, you worked the horse you were given...

 

"Let us get one thing straight lad." He began sternly. "I am almost twice your age. I am fair, but you must understand... I have been tasked with training you in the sword, but it is only a preparation for training as a weapon for the Dragon reborn. Many men think that training with the sword is good in case you lose the Power. While I suppose this is true, the training and discipline that come with learning the weapon, will shape you into something. Shape you or break you in the process. I will not stand for any lack of self control, is that understood?" The lecture over he let his frown and hard eyes linger on the boy. 

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Control... control... he WAS in control.  Who was this man, he didn't know him.  Where was....

 

Sender reigned himself in.  He didn't know what was coming over him.  His thoughts seemed volatile, like the rising and falling of a storm wracked sea.  This man, Fanten, was speaking.  He stared at the mans mouth, watching it move, the flapping of his lips seemed disconnected from the words which floated past Sender's ears.

 

"I am almost twice your age. I am fair, but you must understand... I have been tasked with training you in the sword, but it is only a preparation for training as a weapon for the Dragon reborn. Many men think that training with the sword is good in case you lose the Power. While I suppose this is true, the training and discipline that come with learning the weapon, will shape you into something. Shape you or break you in the process. I will not stand for any lack of self control, is that understood?"

 

"Understood Sir, It is my wish to serve the Dragon Reborn with my life.  If a task is set before me I will master it!"  Sender said.  He endeavored to look every inch the grim and self-assured figure that he saw in the senior Asha'man.  It was hard though, sword training... really?  He wanted to sneer but kept the feeling contained. What use was a sword?  He doubted a Black Tower man could have the Source so easily taken from him.

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