The Path of Man (The Soul Stone Trilogy Book 1)

by Matt Moss

  “Like the mother,” Arkin noted. “She knew she had to save the child.”

  Paul threw his arm around Arkin and they began to walk. “With proper training, one can soul tap at will,” he said.

  Torin followed behind the two, examining the pieces of the broken staff in his hands.

  “So my trigger is anger,” Arkin noted. “That’s not good, is it?”

  Paul laughed. “Anger awakens the fighter in you, but you must learn how to control your emotions. Fear, anger, love, these can all be great tools if used properly. But they can also bring your demise if you let them consume you,” Paul warned.

  “I think I understand,” Arkin said.

  “Do you?” Paul asked, stopping him. “There are only a handful of people in the world who can soul tap, and even less can do it on command.” His eyes narrowed. “They did not achieve it by thinking that they understood.”

  Arkin stared at him before nodding, taking in the wisdom.

  They resumed walking around the grounds.

  “Two things to know about soul tapping,” Paul said, holding up two fingers. “It doesn’t last very long. And you can only tap so many times before the body needs rest. I guess it’s the Almighty’s way of keeping it in check.”

  Arkin nodded, taking everything in.

  “Also, now that you have soul tapped, whenever you near a soul stone, it will begin to glow,” Paul noted. “Only when tapped can the stone be used. Their power is too much for the normal state of a human body.”

  They stopped in front of the obstacle course made of wood and hemp rope. Arkin noticed pools of water under each obstacle in all five stages. It was to break the fall.

  “The Gauntlet,” Paul said. “A testament of speed, strength, and determination. Only a few have ever run it in its entirety. There’s only one rule,” he said then smiled, “no tapping.”

  “Can I try?” Arkin asked.

  “Later, “ Paul said, then pointed at the Lodge. Men flowed out in a line, making their way to the training grounds.

  “Every morning we train,” Paul said. “And now, I believe I will go have my breakfast.”

  Paul looked at Torin. “Take it easy on the boy, will you. It’s his first day.”

  “I won’t hit him in the head with this Billystick, if that’s what you mean.” Torin said, handing him the broken pieces.

  Paul smiled as he tucked the two sticks under his arm, turned, and walked away.

  “It’s called a Billystick?” Arkin asked.

  Torin grinned. “You see Billy there — the one from last night.” He said, pointing at the squat man in the front of the group. He was pushing someone in fun and talking loudly, as usual. “The prophet beat him like a cross-eyed mule with that stick of his, trying to knock some sense into him.”

  They watched as Billy tripped the man next to him.

  “As you can see, it didn’t work,” Torin said.

  Arkin laughed.

  “Every day, Billy caught a beating from that stick, so the men began calling it the Billystick. Paul finally gave up.”

  “That’s great!” Arkin said, laughing.

  Torin turned to Arkin, stern all of a sudden. “Wipe that grin off your face. You will not enjoy this day,” Torin promised. “You will be sore and ache in places you didn’t know you had.”

  Arkin stopped laughing and straightened up.

  “You are still a boy, but if you listen to me and do as I say, I’ll make a man out of you yet.”

  The group of men trickled onto the training grounds. Torin looked them over.

  “Line up!”

  Torin stood with his arms crossed in front of the group, his face stern as he looked them over. They formed five lines, six men in each.

  Arkin somehow found himself in the middle. Looking around, he noticed most of the men were quite a few years older than he was. Only a few might have been twenty years of age.

  Some wore tunics with their trousers, but most trained bare chested. All of them appeared strong. Some were lean, corded with muscle, while others were less defined. A few were large, their gut making up most of the midsection.

  Torin had a build like that, but with less gut. Arkin knew how strong the bear was.

  “When it comes to strength and endurance, sometimes looks can be deceiving,” his father once told him, knowing that Arkin worried over his lack of build.

  “Down!” Torin bellowed.

  Everyone dropped and began doing push-ups. Arkin, feeling alone on his feet, quickly followed suit. He did three push-ups before Torin spoke again.

  «Up!»

  Bodies moved from parallel to vertical. Every move was quick and precise.

  “Down!”

  Ten sets later, Arkin began to feel the burn coursing through his muscles. Sweat beaded across his face and fell to the ground.

  «Up!»

  Every time Arkin stood, his legs quivered with fatigue. Breathing was labored and the taste of metal filled the back of his tongue.

  “Down!” Torin said, eyeing his new recruit.

  Everyone dropped, quick and precise, as if they had just begun. All except Arkin. He was slow to the ground, barely able to push himself back up. Upon standing, Arkin wondered how these men still kept the same pace as when they started. His eyes went wide as he saw an old man with gray hair, two rows over, barely breaking a sweat.

  “Up!”

  “Down!”

  Arkin dropped, and his face hit the dirt. Lying there, his body screamed at him to stop, but he willed himself to go on.

  Torin saw him struggle to get up. A slight look of pride crossed the big man’s face, a look that most people would have never noticed.

  Arkin reminded Torin a lot of himself. He had the same drive, the same determination — never back down, never give up. Even some of the other men noticed the boy’s tenacity.

  “Up and hold!”

  The group stood awaiting the next command with chests heaving in and out. Arkin finally got to his feet.

  “Good,” Torin said. “Pair up. It’s log carry day.”

  The group slowly dispersed and began walking down the hill to the base of the mountain about five hundred paces away.

  Torin noticed Arkin looking around, still breathing heavy with his hands on his knees. “Cain, pair up with Arkin here,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” Cain said, then walked over to Arkin. “You ok?”

  “Yea,” Arkin said between breaths, “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

  “I’ve been there. It gets easier though,” Cain said

  Arkin stood straight, noticing that they were both about the same size, although Cain was more muscular. In terms of competition in courting women, Arkin noticed that Cain had a more handsome face. It was soft, symmetrical, and slightly covered by his auburn hair.

  Not the face of a fighter, though, Arkin thought.

  “C’mon,” Cain said. “Walking helps.”

  Arkin nodded and spat. The two began trailing the group towards the logs.

  “I’m Cain.”

  “Arkin.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” Cain said.

  “Eighteen,” Arkin said proudly.

  “The Prophet must really like you. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone so young joining the Order.”

  Arkin rubbed the recent knot on his head. “I guess so. How old are you?”

  “Twenty.”

  Arkin’s breathing returned to normal. “So, what’s with the logs?” he said as they drew near to the pile. “Why carry them?”

  “Folk used to cart them to town with a mule, but shortly after I joined, Torin had the great idea to make us do it. Said it would be good training for us.” Cain spat. “Anyways, the logs go to the sawmill to be prepped for building materials and firewood.

  “Alright. What’s the best way to carry them then, partner?” Arkin said.

  “I’ll show you,” Cain replied.

  Most of the logs, Arkin noticed,
were about the same size. They were as wide as a man’s torso and about five feet long.

  “Watch those two,” Cain said, pointing. “They’re the top team.”

  Both men were as big, if not bigger, than Torin. They paced around, flexing and yelling in short bursts. Their naked arms and torso swelled as they pumped themselves up.

  They commenced to slapping each other, their eyes wide and straining.

  Arkin found them odd. “They always do that?” he said to Cain.

  “Save it for the bedroom, boys,” a muscular man with short, dark hair said.

  Cain laughed. “That’s Rico. He’s not as strong as those two, but he’s fast as a cat,” he said.

  The biggest man Arkin had ever seen stepped up to Rico, his face was red and outlined with the imprint of a hand.

  “What’d you say, little man?” he said.

  “All I’m saying, Stubbs, is maybe you should buy Bennie some dinner first,” Rico said, grinning. “Maybe a few drinks.”

  Stubbs shoved Rico hard and then stretched his arms out wide.

  Those who were close enough to see the show erupted in laughter, but none harder than Rico.

  “You’re all just jealous!” Bennie added, standing proudly with his chest out. “You know that you can’t beat us.”

  Everyone was engaged in the show now, some cursing the big men in friendly competition.

  “No,” Rico choked out through his laughter, “You two do a good enough job of beating each other as it is.”

  The men howled, then Stubbs ran after Rico.

  Arkin laughed, turning to Cain to find he had tears in his eyes, holding his stomach from laughing so hard. Stubbs quickly gave up the chase and gave everyone an obscene gesture on his way back to the logs.

  “Come on,” Cain said, recovering, “let’s get our logs ready. You grab that end.”

  They carried the log to place it in line with the other teams and made their way back to get the second.

  “See, this used to be a boring exercise, but the guys here have turned it into a competition,” Cain said, hefting the second log. “First team over the hill, past the Lodge, and to the sawmill wins.””

  “What do they win?” Arkin asked, grunting.

  “Free drinks and bragging rights,” Cain said as they set the log down.

  As the teams got into position, Torin rode Strider up to the group. He began to disperse carrying straps to the team. A smile crept onto his face as he tossed two straps to Arkin, then rounded his horse behind the line of men.

  Cain began working his strap around the end of the log. “Work it like this,” he told Arkin. “Then use this loop to put your hand through. It keeps your grip from slipping.”

  They strapped the second log.

  “We’re carrying two at once? “ Arkin said incredulously.

  Cain smiled. “Yea. I try to keep my mind on the breakfast waiting for us when we finish; it’s all you can eat. Makes it a little easier.”

  Arkin felt a wave of doubt wash over him as he stared at the logs.

  “The good people who claimed this land before us called this the Farmer’s Walk,” Torin said with a raised voice. “They were without livestock, committing everything by hand. Today, we honor that tradition. Take your positions.”

  Cain took the lead position, arms tied to each log that lay on both sides of him. In the back, Arkin gripped the straps, readying himself the best he could.

  “On your marks,” Torin said.

  “Lift with your legs,” Cain shouted back to Arkin, “and keep your back straight.”

  “Ok!” Arkin replied, crouching into a squat position.

  Yells and grunts mixed from the men, sounding like some barbaric choir.

  “Get set!”

  Arkin turned his head, looking at Stubbs and Bennie. They squatted up and down, shoveling their feet like bulls. Stubbs turned to his left, glaring at Rico. Rico turned his head to Stubbs, puckered his lips, and pursed them into a kiss. The big bull snorted and yelled.

  “Go!” Torin boomed.

  Arkin pushed through his feet, back straight, chest out, with his head slightly tilted up. With the logs up, they began taking steps, one after another, slowly.

  Arkin noticed Stubbs and Bennie practically running, already a good twenty paces in front of them. Rico and his partner were about half the distance, but had a constant, methodical drive to their carry.

  “We can go faster!” Arkin yelled.

  “This is a good pace, trust me,” Cain barked back. “Let’s just try to get you up the hill first.”

  “I got this,” Arkin said. “It’s not so bad.”

  Halfway up the hill to the Lodge, Arkin dropped the logs. Cain, feeling the imbalance, quickly dropped his end.

  “What’s the matter?” Cain said.

  Arkin didn’t want to tell him that every muscle in his body was on fire — that his back and legs were quivering. That his shoulders were so tight and painful that he thought his arms might rip off. He just sat on the ground, dripping sweat, and heaving for air.

  “I just need a quick break,” Arkin said.

  Cain sat on the ground, all too familiar with what Arkin was feeling. “That’s why we went slow,” he said. “If we had sped up, we wouldn’t be half this far.”

  Arkin looked up, noticing some of the top teams cresting the hill. It still looked so far away. “I don’t think I can make it,” he said.

  “Sure you can,” Cain assured him. “We’ve all been there before. Try putting your mind on something else. Focus on what drives you.”

  Arkin thought of his father, recalling what he taught him. “Do a job and do it well without complaining. Give it your best, even though you may fail. Never give up if the fight’s worth fighting.”

  Levi’s voice left him, coldly replaced with the sight of his tragic end. Arkin’s thoughts turned to Lucian.

  Arkin gritted his teeth. “Let’s go!” he said, standing.

  “You sure?” Cain asked.

  “I said let’s go, didn’t I?” Arkin snapped back.

  “Alright.” Cain said, then shrugged.

  Arkin’s anger fueled his steps. Hate consumed him, giving him limitless power. The feeling soon left him, only to be replaced with something. . . broken. Tears welled in his eyes as he staggered up the hill.

  He thought of Lyla. She replaced the brokenness and hate. She became his driving force.

  He grew stronger. Whatever emotion it was, he knew it would carry him farther than anger would.

  Arriving at the Lodge, Paul met them with a steaming cup in hand.

  They set the logs down.

  “Prophet,” Cain greeted, then bowed his head eagerly despite his fatigue.

  “Hello, Cain,” Paul said, then gestured towards Arkin. “How’s your partner there doing?”

  Cain cocked his head in approval. “He did good. Especially for his first carry.”

  Paul smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

  “You know, most people can’t make it this far on their first carry,” Paul said to Arkin.

  Before Arkin could reply, Paul turned and walked away. He looked back. “You must have good genetics,” he said, then winked at Arkin before walking back into the Lodge.

  “Why’d you tell him I did good?” Arkin said, wiping his brow. “I made you stop like five times.”

  “I stopped eight times on my first carry,” Cain said. “You really should learn how to take a compliment.”

  Arkin scratched the back of his head, his face flushing red. “Anyways,” Arkin said, “How much farther we got?”

  Cain smirked. “We’re on the homestretch, buddy.”

  They began to descend the hill. Every step shook Arkin to the core, making his muscles ache and daring him to drop the load, but he was rejuvenated by the words of confidence that Paul and Cain had given him.

  “The mill’s on the far edge of the town,” Cain called back to Arkin, “by the row of oak trees.”

  The teams p
assed Arkin and Cain. Some were shocked to see them still carrying the logs. A few clapped and cheered in approval. Arkin noticed Stubbs with Bennie in tow, their faces stark. Rico and his partner were a few paces behind the big men, talking enthusiastically. Rico clapped and nodded at Arkin as they passed.

  At the mill, they dropped their burden, adding to the pile of logs.

  Arkin swelled with pride. He had put his body to the test and passed.

  He now understood what his father meant about taking pride in a job well done.

  Cain stretched out the soreness. A painful smile crept across his face. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he said.

  The enticing aroma of cooked eggs, breads, and meats hung in the main hall of the Lodge. Arkin’s mouth watered as he stood in line, staring at the buffet.

  “Everything to keep a man strong,” Torin said as he loaded his plate with food.

  Arkin followed suit. Sitting comfortably at a table, neither said a word until the plates were empty.

  Lyla had been on Arkin’s mind since the carry. He had to talk to her.

  “Torin, do you know where Lyla is?” he asked.

  Torin drained a tankard of milk, then wiped his mouth with his hand and belched.

  “I think she’s in town with the doctor.”

  Arkin stood, leaving.

  “Hey,” Torin said, “we have training with Master Coll soon.”

  “Ok, I’ll be back,” Arkin said, turning away. He took a step and slammed into Billy, splattering his plate of food.

  “So... sorry,” Arkin apologized, backing away.

  Billy glared at him, wiping a piece of ham covered in gravy off his chest.

  “You!” he growled.

  Arkin darted for the door with Billy in hot pursuit, cursing him.

  Arkin heard Torin bellow with laughter as he ran outside.

  Arkin ran into the town. When he thought he was safely ahead, he turned to find that Billy had given up the chase. Slowing to a walk, Arkin looked around, familiarizing himself with the town. Folk smiled and greeted him in passing. Various shops, full of wares, were open for business. Tailor, blacksmith, baker, tanner — the small town had all the necessities.