Halfstone: A Tale of the Narathlands (9 page)

“Show me how,” said Aldrick, feeling a spontaneous spur of
confidence. “Show me how to wield magic.”

Jon grinned. “Very well.” He beckoned Aldrick over to the pile of
boulders near the edge of the glade. “Pick one up,” he said plainly.

Aldrick stared at him, then down at the boulders. The smallest of
them had to be at least twice his weight. “With my hands?”

Jon nodded.

Aldrick reached down, clasped his hands around one of them and
tried to heave it from the ground using the strength in his legs. Nothing
happened. He tried again. Still nothing. The boulder wasn’t going to budge.

“It’s impossible,” he gasped.

“Ah, but it isn’t, Aldrick,” Jon said insistently. “You only
believe it to be so because you know yourself as a human, not a wielder. You
are not aware of the storm within you. You must find it. Make it surge within
you. Bring it to the surface and wield it to your purpose.”

“How do I find it?”

“By knowing it is there.”

“I do know it’s there, you’ve told me so.”

“No, I’ve only made you believe it, not know it.”

“Then how do I know it?”

“By finding it.”

Aldrick was baffled. “Your meaning isn’t clear to me.”

“I would not expect it!” Jon exclaimed. “Most wielders spend many
years seeking within themselves to find storm. Sadly, many fail to see beyond
their own reason. They know they are a wielder, they know storm exists, but
they fail to understand their union with it, and therein they lose the ability
to truly embrace it. But I believe in you, my boy. I believe you can find faith
in who you are, not what you are. That is the key. Achieve this and you will
know your storm.”

Aldrick squinted, thinking hard upon Jon’s words.

“So,” he began, “so what I need to find isn’t storm, it is faith.”

“Yes, Aldrick.”

“Faith in myself. I need to… find myself.”

Jon nodded.

“Whoa, I haven’t talked like this since the last time Kaal and I
shared drinks in Rain.”

Jon chuckled. “Time well spent,” he said, before returning to
words of wisdom. “Do you see, Aldrick—the technicalities of the nature of storm—such
things are really only valuable as foreknowledge. Find yourself. Know yourself.
Only then you will come to realise your powers and your true potential.”

Aldrick nodded. He felt Jon’s explanation had been rather indirect
but reasoned that this had been intentional. There was no straight way to teach
something that one can only learn oneself.

“I think I understand,” he said. “In my mind I imagined storm as
something stored up in a jar somewhere inside me, but now I see it as a part of
me… yet, I don’t feel any different. I’m still the same old me I have been all
my life.”

“That is because your storm has always been with you, Aldrick, not
letting slip unless your emotions bested your reason, as they did last night.”

Aldrick considered this for a moment. Realisation struck him. Last
night, it was emotion that surged through him when the skies opened above him.
That was a reaction to the anguish inside him. And the day he fell over the
cliff with the ka-zchen—those spurring gusts of wind had come just when he
needed them, when he feared falling and dying, when he panicked. He had created
them.

“But why has my storm
only
made an appearance in those
moments?”

“Because it is in those pivotal moments that all the fluff of life
and logic disappear and your actions become aligned with your inner self. Storm
is then able to flow freely from you and interact with the world around you.”

“Then how can wielders control it without being emotionally
charged all the time?”

“That comes with time and practise!” cried Jon. “By embracing who
they are and coming to know themselves, as I have said. When this is achieved,
storm may be wielded at one’s leisure. Storm may flow when you are in turmoil,
but it floods when you are at peace within yourself. Reaching such a state is a
challenge, to be sure, yet it is a fine thing to strive for.”

“I see… but you say it can take years? I don’t have years to
practise, Jon. I have already lost my entire childhood, ignorant to the
knowledge of my identity and my past. I don’t have time to learn from scratch.”

Jon patted him on the shoulder. “I believe in you, my boy.” A kind
smile lit his face, exercising his many wrinkles.

“You never expected me to be able to lift the boulder, did you?” Aldrick
asked.

Jon shook his head. “No, but your effort was not without purpose.
I wanted you to question me, to seek your own answers. Besides, you had no idea
where to begin. Storm cannot simply increase one’s strength. The technique you
needed to apply was ‘gravity manipulation’, as I did with the grass.”

Aldrick’s eyebrows rose.

“We can manipulate gravity?” he mouthed. Phelvara had taught him
some knowledge of the natural sciences as a child and he recalled learning
about forces such as gravity—the worldly pull. As far as he remembered, this
was something unchanging, inescapable.

“Indeed we can,” said Jon gleefully, delighted by his ability to
continually rock the foundations of Aldrick’s world. “It is a rudimentary ability
all wielders are taught. We can manipulate gravity in ways contrary to its
typical downward pull. Observe.” He held out one hand toward the boulder, then
began to raise it slowly. The boulder trembled a little then, slowly but
surely, began to rise into the air. When it was at head height, Jon ceased
raising his hand and the boulder simultaneously stopped and levitated there in
front of them.

Aldrick stared, amazed and perplexed. “Woah.”

Jon relaxed his hand and the boulder fell back to the ground with
a loud thud.

“Nicely done!” called out Télia. She was relaxing on the grass with
her legs crossed by Jon’s staff.

“I concur,” said Aldrick, beyond impressed. “May I try?”

“Of course!” cried Jon. “Did you notice how my palm was pointed
toward the boulder while I raised it? That is where we are able to naturally
emit the most storm from our body. With two hands holding it as you did before,
you won’t have to radiate your storm as far and should have less difficulty
focusing on raising the boulder alone. I suggest you continue using such an
approach.”

“Right.” Aldrick marched up to the boulder. “So I must know
myself, that it is within my power to lift it?”

“Yes, focus only on yourself wanting to do so, and then on the act
of lifting it as a secondary thing, because you already know you are capable of
that.”

Aldrick rubbed his hands together.

“Lift it with gravity… I can do that,” he told himself. “I think,”
he added.

Again he bent down and pressed his palms firmly against the rough
surface of the boulder. He wanted to lift it, he knew he could. He visualised
it rising upward, then heaved with every ounce of might he could muster.
Nothing happened. The boulder didn’t even tremble as it had before Jon lifted
it.

Aldrick gave up and slumped down with his back against the
boulder. “It’s no use, Jon. I can’t do this.”

“You will come to learn,” said Jon calmly. “No wielder, nor will
any wielder, ever be able to achieve such a thing on their first day attempting
it.”

For a time Aldrick didn’t move. A faint ache in his head had
become a heavy throb and his left shoulder felt freshly strained. He closed his
eyes. In the background he heard footsteps as Télia walked through the glade.
She began to converse with Jon but Aldrick paid no attention to their words.
Instead he thought of the past and of the future. He wanted the ones
responsible for murdering his parents to meet justice. The wielder Malath must
have his life taken from him. It was his crime. He may have evaded reckoning
all these years, but for no longer.

Aldrick’s mind wandered to his family in the south. They were
dearly missed. He hoped Braem had found Phelvara and his siblings safe in Rain,
that none of this would affect them any more than it already had. It wasn’t
their problem to face. Every memory of them he cherished. Still, it was
infuriating that the life he would have lived was robbed of him. He needed to
master control of his stormpowers—his mother’s one—her ability to take storm
from another. That was how he would defeat Malath. Perhaps they did need the
Halfstone Jon had spoken of, but either way, he wished to come face to face
with Malath. The prospect didn’t ignite any fear in him, not as the mere
mentioning of the wielder’s name had in Télia. Perhaps this was because he had
never known of Malath’s wickedness. There was much he remained ignorant of.

“Do you wish to continue, Aldrick?” Jon’s voice broke his trail of
thoughts.

He got to his feet and rubbed his shoulder. “I do, I want to. I
want to learn my mother’s ability. Can you teach me that?”

Jon surveyed Aldrick from beneath his bushy, white eyebrows.

“I can only guide you in learning it yourself,” he said. “It may
be more dangerous than the practice of common abilities. You will need to practise
on me directly for only I possess storm for you to take.”

“Maybe it is unsafe then,” Aldrick said with dwindling confidence.

“Well yes,” agreed Jon, “Yet it is crucial. What you must first
do, though, is spend more time practising what I have already endeavoured to
teach.”

“Very well.”

“It is the only way. Know yourself, Aldrick. Know your intent.
Focus. Let your storm be heard.”

Aldrick practised for a further hour under Jon’s supervision. Jon
offered no further instruction beyond that point though, encouraging him go on
without distraction. He had surrendered any attempt to physically lift the
boulder. Instead he heeded Jon’s words and searched for the faith to will it to
do so with his storm. He willed it to rise from the earth. He told himself he could
make it do so with every attempt, yet the boulder remained stubbornly
motionless. Eventually frustration and annoyance bested him and he gave up.

Jon and Télia were relaxing at the edge of the glade. The position
of the sun told him it was past noon already. He was exhausted and wanted
water.

“I’m going for a break,” he said, making for the track.

“We are right behind you,” Jon said, rising to his feet. Télia
aided him. Though very subtle, there were signs that age was taking its toll on
his body.

Back at the house the three shared refreshments and took advantage
of the cool indoor air.

“It’s just not coming to me, Jon,” Aldrick said grumpily from an
armchair.

“Because it must come
from
you,” replied Jon adamantly.
“Maybe try to find a reason—a motive to accomplish your goal.”

Aldrick contemplated this. He did have a motive—to become powerful
enough to avenge his parents. Perhaps this was too vague. He needed
inspiration.

“You could try practicing alone next time—allow yourself some
peace,” suggested Télia. She sat in one corner of the room polishing her
crossbow.

Jon stopped rummaging in a kitchen cupboard and looked up at her.
“A wise idea. You are an astute aera for your age, my dear.”

Télia looked both flattered and offended.

“Right then, I’m off,” Aldrick said, having found enough
motivation to heave himself to his feet.

“I’m off for a while too,” said Télia, also standing. “I’m going
to take De’ama for a walk and explore the area.”

“Very well, you two leave and I shall remain here,” said Jon. “I
have much to think upon and there is no place like the comfort of one’s
solitary mind to do such a thing.”

Aldrick and Télia left together but parted ways at the stables.

“I believe you can do anything you set your mind to, Aldrick,”
Télia shouted out as he entered the forest.

He looked back and smiled. She stood aside her mare, returning
one. He was comforted knowing she was near. She was so,
so
incredibly
beautiful, and yet so dangerous, like a goddess from a mystical fable, a
guardian angel sent to protect him. His smile lingered all the way to the
glade. A peaceful sense of solitude welcomed him back. For a fleeting moment it
felt as though he was back in the forests of the Mountains Rain, far from the
concerns of the surrounding world. Here, though, storm had left its mark; the
grass remained flattened and the boulders misplaced. He walked up to them with
his hands in his pockets. He didn’t feel like beginning immediately and instead
closed his eyes and enjoyed the calming silence.

The sudden fluttering of wings caught his attention. He opened his
eyes to see a black fantail staring back at him, its head cocked to one side.
The bird had perched on the outreaching branch of one of the lifeless trees.
With a single chirp it flew away again, into the forest. Aldrick watched it go.
On the ground, beneath where it disappeared between the branches, he noticed a
path which led up in the direction of the mountain tops. It was long overgrown
but very definitely a path. Either Jon had made it or some animal seeking to graze
in the glade. Curious, he decided to follow it. The path led him through dense
undergrowth up to the treeline, whereupon it veered right. He continued along
it until he found himself at the edge of a small tarn that hid within flowing
golden grass. The water was crystal clear. At the base of the tarn, a smooth
bowl of white clay reflected the sun’s brilliant light. A breeze swept across
the surface of the water that shadows mimed in a dance upon the clay.