The Roar of Andora: Book One

Chapter Twenty-Seven: A New Way of the Sword

It was early in the first month when Aaron first went to visit Sijün Jorje at his home on the outskirts of the Vale, two days after he was rejected from joining the military. Although the sun had come out that morning, it was devastatingly cold. The orange radiance reflected off the snow blinded Aaron as he walked through the knee-high banks. When Aaron finally arrived at the front steps of his mentor's home, he was frozen. The color of his boots darkened as they grew damp, making his toes ache, and tiny pellets of snowflakes had crystallized onto his hair. The sound of a kettle boiling over an open hearth whistled through the air when Jorje opened his front door for the shivering Aaron. Jorje acted the least bit surprised to see him, almost as if he were expecting his arrival. Jorje brewed ginseng tea and suggested that they sit. Aaron touched his numb hands to the hot cup, lifted it to his lips, letting the steam ease the pain from his face, and setting the cup back down, opened up to his old mentor about everything that had occurred. Jorje remained silent as Aaron spoke of his grieving. It was after mid-day when their conversation had lost its stamina, and Jorje told Aaron to return the following morning. Upon Aaron's request, Jorje had agreed—if he were disciplined and willing—to teach him all that he knew about mastering the art of the sword.

Every morning for the following eight weeks Aaron met his teacher at his home and began his training. On the first morning of the Evershield Prince's apprenticeship with the old swordsmaster, Aaron arrived in his combat tunic, prepared to ground his body to depletion as he always had while training.

Jorje had him meditate for an hour.

Never having practiced meditation before, Aaron couldn't settle his mind. The next day, figuring his mentor wanted to test his patience; Aaron arrived more than prepared to beat his body to exhaustion. That morning Jorje had him do standing meditation. The morning after that, standing meditation with some simple arm exercise; wave the opened palms above your head, cross your forearms over your crown, reach for the earth, dust the earth, repeat. Again, Aaron found the exercises trivial and were suited best for an old man, but he went along with it. And the next morning Jorje had Aaron do an exercise actually called 'the old man faces the sea;' hands on the hips, extend your neck forward, with closed eyes turn the neck side to side.

"Sifün, this is ridiculous," Aaron said with his eyes closed, rotating his head.

Moving through the motions of the practice with Aaron, Jorje simply said, "You had asked me to teach you."

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One morning, on a clear and crisp morning late in the third month, right after Aaron had turned twenty-one and the snow had begun to melt, Jared Evershield was awake after entertaining two women all night and crawled over their sleeping bodies to look at the sunrise which he never saw.

Through his bedroom window in the Ancient Oak Castle, Jared saw his younger cousin quietly traverse the walkways of the castle grounds, shift into one of the tight alleyways, and then rove through the sloshed fields behind the estates. Curious as to where Aaron was taking off so early in the morning, Jared called for his retainers to follow his cousin. Quickly dressing himself, waking the women in the process, Jared fastened his coat and stormed through the castle to the south-western watchtower and spied on his cousin.

Up on the cold plateau, Jared gestured to his retainers below which direction Aaron took, implying they follow him. Jared's retainers kept a concealed distance, pretending to be making rounds, but followed at a hastened pace. They managed to turn the corner and saw right as Aaron slipped through the hidden passage in the guard wall that wrapped the castle grounds. Now that their stalking wouldn't be made obvious, the guards ran to the burgh and followed the same passage Aaron took and watched him proceed to the greater plains on the outskirts of the Vale of Catholina. Maintaining a distance, they followed him all the way to Jorje's house.

"Close your eyes," Jorje instructed his disciple. "Now lift your right arm, open your right palm. Feel the energy spiralling out through the center of your hand."

Aaron stood still. Heels turned outward, knees slightly bent, tongue touched to the roof of his mouth, deep breaths through the nose; exactly how Jorje instructed, managing to feel the energetic sensation, but still, Aaron failed to grasp his mentor's intentions.

"Sifün," Aaron said, breaking the pose. "I—I can't do this anymore. I came to you weeks ago to learn the sword and all we've been doing is meditating. I've been doing this for weeks, I don't see how this is going to in any way make me a better fighter."

Abandoning the meditation as well, Jorje opened his eyes, then crossing his arms asked, "Is fighting what you aspire for?"

"Sijün—I don't get how you can say such a thing. You were a warrior. You were the one who taught me how to first even use a sword!"

Bluntly, "One learns the sword so he may never need to use one" said Jorje.

"What? Like, what?" Something snapped in Aaron. "I'm sorry but that's the most retarded thing I've ever heard in my life. What—How—What the hell is that even supposed to mean?"

"Have you ever heard the legend of Raion, the sky sorcer—"

"Now you're talking to me about myths? Sifün this is ridiculous. I'm sorry but come on."

"What more with the sword could you possibly need to learn, Aaron? Look at you," Jorje said, flanking his arm out. "You're all muscled up, you could kick my old ass. What do you think I could teach you?"

"At this point? I have no clue. Maybe you just seemed more impressive when I was a kid. You know how seriously I'm taking my initiation for the Scouts, and you've wasted my time—when I could've been seriously training—with this meditation shit."

"Meditation shit? Really?"

"Yes, really, Sifün." Aaron began in the direction of the door. "What you're doing is for old people and monks. I don't actually have time—"

Without realizing it, Jorje had swiftly cut off Aaron's path. Winked at Aaron. And then barely flicked his fingers against his chest and blasted Aaron to the floor.

"What—What the fuck?" Aaron was bewildered, terrified even. "Wha—What was that? What did you do?"

"I lightly tapped your chest."

"You're—You're using sorcery!"

"No. No I am not."

"H—How?" Aaron was in disbelief.

"Now, imagine I held a sword in my hand."

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