Aisla

When I was being tested by the chief, I knew that my efforts were paying off.

I wasn’t terrible at using tools. Small repairs, some fortifications. I had learned a few things. Enough to be a decent builder with enough effort, but maybe not a great one.

I knew some mixtures that I could make with herbs, mostly taught by my mom, who considered it a valuable skill. I wasn’t able to create all the medicines that the Chief asked during the presentation, but neither of the other kids could.

When answering the Chief’s questions, I did alright. Of every four questions, I was sure about two of them, and more or less confident about the others. How could the Chief know so much about so many different subjects? It was incredible. I was glad for the early hours of studies that I decided to do. 

With the fighting demonstrations, I did as I expected. I remembered the forms, I knew the right movements. I had practiced it, over and over again. From the other children, I was the one that did better. I knew that in a fight, I could take any of the three other kids of my age.

Training with Corlin now I couldn’t be sure if, at his age, I would be able to take him.

Even knowing just the basics, just what they teach children to keep them sharp, Corlin moved with a ferocity inside him.

Which, I had to admit, was making me a little jealous.

We have been practicing at our house’s backyard for twenty minutes now. Ever since Corlin had asked me to help him become a Warrior, we have been coming here after I finished with all my duties. This usually gave us around one hour to train by ourselves. Not a long time.

But Corlin used every minute of it.

His movements were still childish and I could see some obvious mistakes, but he was determined. He still hadn’t won a spar against me, but I knew he would. Eventually.

But not today.

I dodged one of Corlin’s punches, hit him straight into his ribs, dodged a counter attack, and scored one on the base of his jaw. This was enough to make him stumble to his back.

I was pulling my punches, holding a bit of my strength. Corlin was still a kid, after all. He hadn’t gone through the ceremony and wasn't really initiated in the ways of the village.

Before he fell, he somehow managed to get a hold on his feet and threw a punch at me.

I easily dodged it and this time put just a little more strength into the next punch, to the center of his stomach. This time, he fell..

But, damn. Such a ferocity.

-”You are opening your guard too much, Corlin. We talked about this” - I said as I gave my hand to him.

-”Urgh.” - Corlin answers, holding my hand. His other hand on his stomach, feeling the hurt.

-”So, when did I get you?”

He didn’t answer right away. He closed his eyes and stayed like this for a few seconds. Then, he says:

-“Just before the ribs hit, I threw a too large punch. The fight was over then.”

I nodded, satisfied.

-”Another?” - Corlin asked, as soon as he managed to get enough of a hold of himself.

-”We had enough spars for today, and we still have to review a few of the subjects from last week. Let’s focus on your breathing now.

He didn’t argue and got into position. I do the same in front of him.

For a time, we breathe. We do it at the same rhythm, the one that everyone is taught how to do since our first moonlights.

We breathe, and we feel the energy of the world going through us, we feel ourselves being connected to it.

Corlin could do it well enough. Of course, he didn’t know yet what he could do with his breathing, or why it’s so important. I didn’t feel like spoiling all the secrets from the festival. But he did it well.

I, on the other hand, have always struggled with it.

It was, after all, the only test that I failed.

After everything, the Chief asked all of the kids to come in front of him and to breathe a slightly different pattern. Then, he landed his hand on their foreheads. After a few seconds, some kids taking a little longer than others, he would declare their positions. “Warrior”. “Builder”.

When it was my turn, I was nervous. I had practiced it a thousand times, but the technique never came easy. I was able to find the right rhythm though, and the Chief put his hand on my head.

I stayed like that for minutes.

When I was sure I would lose the rhythm of my breathing, the Chief finally said:

“Helper”.

And that decided my destiny.

I didn’t know exactly what the Chief did at the ritual, but I knew that he looked at the potential inside each one. Not only for their specific functions, but the potential to connect with this world and get stronger. The potential needed to excel at their jobs. To rise among their peers.

I had none.

Helpers were reserved to the ones that weren’t worth spending too many resources. Not when the survival of the village was so dire. Instead, they would help with the menial tasks, making sure everything was in order.

No real talent.

Looking at Corlin now, I knew that he wouldn’t have the same problem. There were no struggles in his breathing. It was natural to him. As it was to everyone else in the village.

I wasn’t sure what my problem was, but it didn’t matter now. I’d failed at becoming a Warrior or other prestigious position. I practiced, studied and trained, but I’d failed, nonetheless.

I wasn’t going to let Corlin fail.