Story #335 - Focus

Focus

“Focus!” Adept Tremul bellowed, and Eiden forced himself to extend an arm as he had been instructed, trying to move the swarming knot of power in his head down corded muscle fiber and out his fingertips into the training dummy across the room. What form that power took didn’t matter – electricity or fire would work just as well, so long as the target took the brunt of it.

A minute later and still nothing, though Eiden was dripping sweat and his fist had begun to shake from the force of holding it closed. He could feel the power within, building upon itself, but couldn’t find the trigger to release it, couldn’t find a way to make it move.

“Failure,” Tremul said shortly. “As always.”

Eiden lowered his hand. He didn’t appreciate the Adept’s tone, but Tremul was two years his senior and on-track to be an instructor.

“I would hardly say effort with no result is a failure, Tremul.” Eiden heard the voice of Instructor Malben behind him. “Leave us now, and consider your choice of words – if you seek to become an Instructor here, you will need to learn patience.”

“Of course, Revered One,” the tall Adept said, bowing. Though his words and posture were contrite, Eiden caught the look Tremul threw his way – hate was clear in wide brown eyes.

“Aspirant,” Malben went on and Eiden turned, keeping his head bowed and hands at his waist. “Follow me.”

The Instructor moved away at a swift pace, and long strides were required to keep up as the white-haired man swept out of the training hall and into the garden. Though Eiden had no time to stop and enjoy the soft rippling sounds of the pond or gentle whisper of trees as Malben strode forward, he took one deep lungful of mountain air before running to catch up. The School was considered to be one of the most beautiful places in the Ten Regions, and it was little wonder. Hewn out of granite by brute force and concentrated focus, few ever had the chance to walk its grounds and Eiden was honored to be such a one.

“Do not pay attention to Tremul,” Malben said as they passed from the garden to the Shrine of Rola. The first instructor at the School, Rola was honored at the beginning of each day and her shrine was often used as a place of contemplation and meditation. “He is nothing more than smoke and wind.”

Eiden missed a step – that an Instructor would be so critical of an Adept, even one such as Tremul, was a shock. His head was still swimming as Malben quietly ordered all those who surrounded the Shrine – three Aspirants and an Adept – back into the garden, and when Eiden found his bearings again also found that he and Malben were alone.

“Sit,” the Instructor said quietly, and Eiden did as commanded; the robed man also took a cross-legged place in front of Rola’s statue. “Now,” he went on, “tell me why you haven’t been successful.”

Fear made Eiden’s tongue thick in his mouth. He didn’t want to risk his place at the School – didn’t want to be removed for his failure to complete yet another task, but a direct question from an Instructor required an answer.

“I don’t know,” he began slowly, “I think –“

“Thinking is not required!” Malben said sharply, then smiled to let Eiden know he was not so cruel as Tremul. “Tell me what you feel when you try to find your Focus. Tell me what doesn’t happen.”

“It’s…” effort was needed to force the words out, “it’s as though I can call up what I need but can’t release it. I feel it here,” he touched his head, “but can’t force the Focus downward, can’t force it out into the physical world.”

“Have you ever been able to do so?” Malben’s voice was kind, soft.

“Yes,” Eiden said quickly. “Before I came here. My father’s fields burned because of me.”

“So you were sent for a failure?”

“I –“ he hesitated. “Yes. My father had me tested in the city and once he discovered that I possessed the ability to call Focus immediately contacted the local recruiter. I was shipped of the farm three weeks later and told never to return. My father argued that it would give me a better life than he could ever offer, but I knew the truth – he was ashamed.”

“Not ashamed,” Malben said shortly. “Afraid.” He gestured toward the statue above. “What is the central tenant of our First Instructor?”

“Control is Focus,” Eiden recited, “but Focus is not control.”

“True.” Malben nodded as if Eiden had been the one to discover such a notion. “But limited. You possess control, student – too much. You believe Focus brought you here because you failed, and the memory of that failure keeps your ability tightly locked away. Now,” Malben pointed toward the statue, “call your Focus. Attempt to destroy the stone body of Rola.”

“But-“ Eiden began.

“Now, student!” The Instructor’s voice cracked like a whip. “I will prevent any harm from coming to the statue or the Shrine. Do your worst, call your power – no one will be harmed.”

Sudden hope flared and Eiden raised his hand, bringing Focus to bear once again. The knot of force formed quickly in his mind and remained unmoving for a moment, locked as his guilt tried to hold it back. A glance at Malben, his face calm, loosed the net that held Eiden firm and he felt a surge of energy travel down his arm, a tide of Focus that leapt out and toward the statue at his feet.

Fire raged and electricity crackled; it was neither and it was both, a tingling, burning conflux of power.

“Stop!” Eiden dimly heard Malben’s voice; the Instructor’s face was white and his veins stood out sharply on straining skin. “You are too powerful!”

Sudden fear gripped him and Eiden cut off his Focus at the source, stopping the flow of energy through his palm. The twined ball of flame and light he had created, however, did not dissipate but continued to grow and soon consumed Rola’s stone form. Malben was screaming, and Eiden grabbed the other man to drag him out of the Shrine.

“What have you done?” A pale-faced Adept screamed. All around the garden, Aspirants were running in fear, desperate to escape suddenly unchecked Focus.

Eiden’s mind flailed, beating down at him for his transgression. What had he done?


- D