***
Azrael and Glint cleared out their camp and stood in the centre of the clearing, eyeing one other. Azrael had explained to Glint that the energy flowing through his body was called qi, which was discovered in the orient and was mostly fuelled by breath. Glint’s art of the Quicksilver guild was based around him manipulating the electrical and metal aspect of qi within his own body. “That,” the man had said, “means that you basically are always improving a container and filtering system within your body, one that is perpetually being filled slowly by the simple act of drawing breath. You can think of it as making a clay jar with a water filter set on top of it, then improving both. First only pebbles get caught in the filter, then sand, then the most miniscule impurity. At the same time, your reserves grow. It is called the purifying inner energy branch of the yin yang five elements, and is extremely specialized. You also have a method for moving the energy within your body, do you not?”
Glint had said that he did.
“When you start training in a physical art such as this one, you are as a block of rock. Through the art, you create a lake filled with energy below your naval, which then carves tunnels to move the energy around inside the block. Lastly, you use the energy in a particular way. This is why this same energy type you have, in a different user trained in another art, could potentially be used to hurl lightning. I now want you to create more roads to your eyes through standing meditation, so your qi can flow there better. In time, you should be able to see what may look like... webs of lightning, perhaps?”
Now Glint tried just that. It felt strange, like a moving itch more than anything else. As he was concentrating, Azrael suddenly lunged at him, his palms open, and tried to grab his face in one hand. Glint dodged backwards, part of his focus still on the task he was meant to be doing.
“Good!” exclaimed Azrael, moving surprisingly fast for someone whose skill was a spiritual one, kicking up snow and dark dirt with each lunge, trying to smack the youth with his palm.
He didn’t get close, of course, but Glint found himself relishing the exercise.
Azrael had said he would coat his hands in his spiritual energy, and so they would be able to tell the exact moment Glint became able to see something on the man.
A right fist came, and Glint ducked downwards and to the left, allowing the fist to go completely past him before leaping left and circling around his companion. As an afterthought, Glint decided to go for a light kick at the back of Azrael’s knee, just as payback for the teasing, so he moved with an extra burst of speed, threw his leg at the back of Azrael’s, and hit him just hard enough to bring him to one knee. Azrael’s knee struck the snow hard and he yelped. “Argh! No hitting today, Glint,” exclaimed his sparring partner and the youth laughed.
“All right, round two,” he laughed when Azrael got back to his feet and had gotten his breath back. The man seemed happy to comply.
It wasn’t until they had finished training for the day, picked up their packs, and had gone on for a few more hours at the steadiest run the necromancer could manage that Glint began to have a nagging suspicion that Azrael had managed to move his leg in reaction to that kick, then stopped himself.
He dismissed it as his imagination though. What magician could move that fast?
The Final Life Page 20
