Tyrant's Ebb

Tyrant's Ebb, chapter 7 - The Flow Demands

Layla

Recruit, Shadowwatch Regular Legion, yellow company, 10th squad.
One moon and one ten since the new Mark of the Other One blossomed.

"Focus!" Cynric barked.

Layla vented her frustration by screaming and letting the orb of lightning in her hands explode. With a measly crackle, it escaped her will and singed the front of her tent. That feeling of release was intoxicating. She was sick of building flow up inside of her, damming it. All to expand her threshold.

"Do you have a death wish?" Cynric roared. "Control must be maint..."

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Layla shrieked, interrupting Cynric's inevitable monologue. "You couldn't teach the basics of flow even when your life depended on it! You don't have the ability to explain this!"

"The brat's right, recruit Cynric. You can rip words out of books all you like, but there is a limit to how much it can convey. What's more, you are trying to impose control where control must be relinquished." Roald drawled, while chewing on tobacco.

"The flow demands we assert dominance with our mind." Cynric growled, but Roald talked over the healer when he paused to draw breath.

"The flow demands nothing, recruit! Flow is freedom, flow is pushing, pulling, giving the right nudge at the right moment. The flow is an instinct. And when are you going to learn to address people by their rank?" Roald groaned and spat out a chewed tobacco leaf.

Layla observed the grim expression on Cynric's face with a certain satisfaction as the healer eyed their squad Sergeant.

Cynric had not been happy that a boy two years older than Layla was their superiour. And by all rights it was suitable to call Roald a boy. He looked years younger than he was, his bright red hair always looking its best and his brown eyes, sharp and full of vigour.

The only thing that bothered Layla about their sergeant was his thin moustache. The boy was trying to get it to grow, but with mixed results. It would likely take years before the thing would grow evenly.

"She has progressed faster than you expected. Her ability is astonishing." The Corporal, Happy, beamed.

"Which is why she needs to learn to rein it in!" Cynric bellowed. "Corporal." He added through gritted teeth.

"Give it a rest, recruit!" Roald pleaded. "She's hit a wall and there is nothing book smarts can do to get past it. That is an order!"

"Sethian." Cynric said after a while with a tired voice.

Layla saw the old mage roll her amber eyes. "You are her teacher. It's the teacher's job to grow with their student. I can't intervene here. This is for expanding your abilities and hers."

"It is your duty, recruit!" Roald reminded Cynric with an uncharacteristically strict tone.

The healer looked defeated, his stubble was constantly uneven for and his red-ish hair a mess. Cynric had looked like this ever since the night they saw the Mark of the Other One blossom. Layla's powers had been awakened the day before. Camped outside of Ironcourt, in fort Fumeguard, Layla had been unable to sleep. Her newly awakened powers stirring uncomfortably in her mind and body.

The fort lay on a series of hills, overlooking the river valleys of Irbis and Irkin. Despite night time, Ironcourt was clearly visible in the lowlands where the valleys crossed each other, with Irkin River branching away from Irbis towards the north-west. A cluster of lights amid the dark humps of hills.