A Hero's Journey: Seasons (for issue 975)

     Spring brings new hope, new joy, and new goals. It is up to you whether you will pursue them or continue to sit and shiver in yesterday’s winter cold.

     - Gertrude Gelert

     “A training master?” The red Techo looked up from his cup. “There is Master Sobek from across the street. You’ve seen him in action, but I don’t think he’s as much of a sword nerd as you are.”

     “I’m not a – “ Rohane sighed, throwing up his hands. “Never mind. Can he teach me?”

     Velm gaped at him. “Wait. I thought we were setting out to find the other pieces of the Medallion of Wind. I even got my bags packed and ready to go!”

     “I know, but I don’t think I’m ready to face what’s out there yet.”

     “You seem plenty ready to me,” Velm pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “We managed to find Lifira, and you, Mipsy and Talinia already got a head start piecing together the Medallion of Wind. Which, may I remind you, no one has ever seen in years! Centuries, even!”

     “We don’t know what lies ahead of us as we try to find the other pieces of the medallion,” the white Blumaroo reasoned. “The monsters guarding the Celestial Talisman and the Medallion of Wind, and all the creatures that live outside the desert…they’re fiercer than any we’ve encountered in Terror Mountain or Meridell. Who knows what else is out there?”

     He looked at the blue Acara and the green Eyrie, who had been silently sipping their tea and eating the biscuits laid out for them.

     “Well, he does have a point,” the Acara said slowly. “Still, is this gonna be a thing from now on? Wasn’t your training with Old Boreas enough, Rohane?”

     “Judging from the look on his face, it wasn’t,” the Eyrie remarked, putting down her cup. “And I can’t blame him. The Lost Desert is an entirely new environment. Surviving is a challenge for anyone who isn’t used to it.”

     “And it was so hard to find the nearest oasis while we were outside the Palace of Ancient Kings,” Mipsy groaned softly, laying her head on the table.

     Rohane leaned toward Velm. “Anyway, about Master Sobek…”

     Velm stroked his chin in thought. “I don’t know what else he can teach you, but I guess he might know a thing or two about fighting smart in the desert.”

     * * *

     I should clear my mind. I shouldn’t think about anything…I wonder how long it has been? Sobek said he would teach me some staff fighting tricks, but I have to meditate first…Mipsy and Velm said they would go shopping for supplies, but I thought we already had everything we need? Talinia’s with Waset Village’s best hunters. I hope they’re careful in the sandstorms.

     Rohane opened one eye from where he was sitting cross-legged on a mat inside a spacious tent. In front of him was a desert Scorchio whose wings were folded and who was so silent and still that the Blumaroo wondered if he was asleep. The warrior fidgeted, trying to shut his eyes again, but his thoughts were all over the place.

     I need to look at a watch…I can’t take it anymore!

     “How long has it been?” he finally asked.

     Sobek opened his eyes and consulted his pocket watch. He raised an eyebrow. “It’s only been two minutes.” The desert Scorchio sighed and leaned back, stretching his legs. “You’re still tense, Rohane. Relax.”

     “How can I?” Rohane asked, running a hand through his ears. “I’m thinking of too many things. The sandstorms, the Medallion of Wind, the monsters…”

     Sobek raised one hand firmly. “Clear your mind. You’re like a wound-up spring, ready to pounce. But there are no monsters here, the storms are outside the village, and I doubt the pieces of the Medallion of Wind will ever move from where they’re hidden…you won’t need your pent-up energy. At least, not yet. Now, let everything go, at least, for a few more minutes.”

     The white Blumaroo clenched his hands into fists but took several deep breaths before shutting his eyes again. He heard the plucking of a lute, and that song seemed to sink into his very being, helping him relax.

     “This might help,” Sobek’s voice interrupted. “A calming folk song from the southern Lost Desert. You can worry about everything later…when we begin your staff training.”

     Sobek continued to play, strumming his lute with gentle skill. The song reminded Rohane of peaceful afternoons spent in the countryside of Trestin, days when he and his older brother would play outside before their parents called them back inside…days long gone. Nevertheless, the tension fled from his shoulders, and his fists unclenched, as he saw his family in his mind’s eye, bothered by nothing at all. His breathing slowed to a steady tempo just as Sobek finished the song and put away his lute.

     “All right, we’re done with meditation.”

     When Rohane opened his eyes, mildly surprised at how he managed to concentrate this time, he saw the desert Scorchio standing up and clutching a carved wooden staff. “Pick up your staff, boy.” Sobek flicked his staff toward a plain but sturdy stick of polished wood beside Rohane and smiled. “Show me what you can do.”

     Sobek stood his ground, feet spread into an easy stance, as the Blumaroo lunged toward him, staff, swinging high. With one fluid movement, Sobek ducked and flicked his staff toward Rohane’s legs, tripping him.

     “Ow!”

     “See what I mean about having too much energy?” Sobek asked as he lowered his staff near Rohane’s head. “You unleash all your power in one strike, making yourself vulnerable and tiring yourself quickly. In the desert, everything is rationed – food, water, even strength. Your strength is undeniable; now, you’ll learn to fight smart.” He twirled his staff and withdrew it, leaning against it.

     “But I already know how to fight smart,” Rohane pointed out as he stood up, using his staff to support himself. “I learned how to use my surroundings to my advantage, and – “

     The Scorchio grinned. “You’ll learn to fight smarter, then. Do you believe that the only kind of strength that matters is physical strength?”

     “No.” The white Blumaroo shook his head vehemently. “That’s important, and I know I have it, but…I’ve seen and met Neopians who have different kinds of strength.” He placed a hand over his heart. “They’re brave, they can smile through anything, and they never give up. My friends are like that. And sometimes…that’s why I believe they’re stronger than me.”

     Sobek stared at him intently before chuckling. “Well, it’s good to know you’re not entirely a lost cause. Ready your staff and try again.”

     Rohane did as he was told, holding out his staff at the ready as though bracing himself for a duel. He received a sharp rap on his arm from Sobek’s staff.

     “Ouch – what was that for?”

     “You’re keeping too much energy in your arms. Relax; you won’t need all of it – this time.”

     * * *

     “Block, strike, block, strike – good! Good!” Sobek sidestepped to avoid a swing from Rohane’s sword and flashed a thumbs-up. “Notice that you don’t tire easily, and your movements are more consistent.” He dodged and parried the incoming blade with a deft swish of his staff.

     “Thanks for believing that I’m not a lost cause,” Rohane quipped as he veered away, lowering his sword to keep Sobek’s staff away from his stomach.

     “You still need to work on your meditation.” The desert Scorchio winked as he ducked and whirled his staff – only for Rohane to send it spinning out of his hand. At first, Sobek looked at his fallen weapon; then he merely shrugged and laughed. “Heh, looks like you’re ready for the wilderness.”

     The swordsman frowned and sheathed his sword. “Am I? I don’t feel ready.”

     Sobek smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder. “None of us are ever truly ready. Tell you what, when you and your friends come back from your quest to find the pieces of the Medallion of Wind, we can work on polishing your lessons…and your meditation.”

     “I was afraid you’d say that.”

     The training master pointed to his eyes before pointing right at Rohane’s. “That’s the first thing we’ll work on when you return.”

     * * *

     “I can’t believe it,” Sobek whispered as Velm laid out the pieces of the Medallion of Wind on a dusty handkerchief. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

     “It’s not assembled, though,” Talinia remarked. “Phebiya told us to only put it together when it’s time to use it.”

     “The Medallion is a very powerful artifact,” said Velm. “We don’t know what will happen if we assemble it too soon, especially away from the Altar of Destiny in Zakharukh’s Pyramid.”

     Mipsy wiggled in place before reaching out for a cup of cold juice. “I wonder if the storms will suddenly stop – poof – just like that?” She snapped her fingers with her free hand to emphasize her point. “Or, or maybe…there’ll be a huge explosion from Anubits’ altar which will blow the sandstorms away! No one told us that we’ll need any ancient incantations or whatever, so all it takes is to drop the Medallion on the altar…”

     “We do have to get to Zakharukh’s Pyramid first, and climb it,” Talinia reminded the blue Acara. “And I won’t be surprised if it also has monsters running around.”

     “Or the undead.” Velm shuddered as he put away the pieces of the Medallion of Wind. “What if Anubits isn’t dead and buried but is sitting on top of his tomb, waiting for us?”

     “I know what to do!” Mipsy crowed. “We put that pharaoh back where he came from or so help me! All it’ll take are a few spells, maybe a lot of arrows, fancy swordsmanship – “

     “Can you keep it down, I’m concentrating!”

     Mipsy, Talinia and Velm turned to look at a corner of Sobek’s tent, where Rohane had been sitting silently. The white Blumaroo scowled at them and sighed. “Great. I feel like I can’t concentrate anymore.”

     “I’m amazed you can meditate now,” said Velm, raising his eyebrows. “Master Sobek, you really are a genius, changing Mister Overkill – “

     “Don’t call me Mister Overkill!”

     “…into someone who can meditate and hold back,” the red Techo finished, not without a crooked grin.

     “Well, it’s not that Rohane doesn’t know when to hold back,” Talinia added.

     “It’s just that most of the time, he doesn’t,” said Mipsy.

     Sobek smiled. “What can I say? I have a way with these types.”

     “Hey!” Rohane objected. “I can hear all of you!”

     “Why don’t you three go down to the marketplace?” the desert Scorchio suggested, gesturing for them to leave. “It’s going to be a long road down to Zakharukh’s Pyramid in the south, so you may as well be prepared. Rohane, you can stop meditating for now; let’s review your stances.”

     “That’s a good idea. We really shouldn’t be disturbing Rohane,” Talinia agreed as she stood up and tapped both Mipsy and Velm on the shoulders. “Let’s go.”

     After the green Eyrie ushered her friends out, Sobek took up his staff and watched as the Blumaroo got to his feet and drew his sword.

     “Your posture has already changed,” Sobek noted. “It has a less rigid feel to it. Very good.”

     “It feels so much easier to decide my next move this way, too.”

     “Master Sobek!”

     The two looked up to see a heavyset fire Wocky storming into the tent, shoving the flap aside haphazardly, rumpling the rugs, and tracking sand. He took off his burnoose and tossed it aside before turning livid eyes toward the desert Scorchio, who merely gave him an impassive look.

     “Who’s that?” Rohane whispered, his grip around his sword hilt tightening.

     “Hello, Ellan,” said Sobek calmly. “It’s been a while. Have you been keeping up with your training?”

     The Wocky bared his fangs. “Oh, I have. Just not yours.” He proceeded to flex his arms before approaching Sobek.

     Rohane took one step toward Ellan, only for Sobek to block him with an outstretched arm. “He was my student,” the desert Scorchio explained. “I tried to teach him the same things I taught you – meditation, fighting more efficiently, holding back…”

     “Which I never needed!” Ellan bellowed, thumping his chest. “I realized that I only need my muscles to do the talking!”

     Sobek sighed. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

     “Neither have you,” Ellan spat before turning his disdainful gaze toward Rohane. A flash of uncertainty lit his eyes. “A Blumaroo? Wait, he can’t be…”

     “He’s my new student,” was all the Scorchio said.

     “Master, just say the word,” said Rohane, bristling. “I’ll show him what your lessons can do.”

     “This is personal. Stay out of this.” Then Sobek turned back to Ellan. “Did you come here just to show off and insult us?”

     The Wocky cracked his knuckles and threw back his head to laugh. “Of course not. I came to show you what true power looks like!” He rushed forward, only for Sobek to step into his path, and grapple with him.

     “Master!” Rohane yelled.

     Grunting, the Scorchio broke away, sidestepping as Ellan lunged at him, arms open to grab him. Sobek’s movements were fluid and swift, and for a while it looked like Ellan was trying to catch the wind or restrain the river. Punches thrown stopped dead against Sobek’s staff or his arms, and he knew the best way to either suddenly twist his staff to whack Ellan’s limbs, or veer away to jab with his weapon, keeping his distance.

     But the fire Wocky was the bigger fighter, and as Sobek blocked again with his staff, Ellan wrenched it out of his former master’s grasp and threw it aside before raining down a relentless storm of punches upon Sobek as Rohane could only watch. Sobek valiantly blocked and dodged, his movements almost like dancing as he searched for an opening. He found one, but Ellan successfully grabbed him by the arm and threw him into the back of the tent, against his bedroll.

     “See?” Ellan proclaimed, raising his fist into the air. “All you need is power! Why slow down when you can finish it so quickly?”

     Dropping his sword, Rohane hurried over to Sobek, who was trying to sit up and shaking his head dazedly.

     “I’m all right,” the Scorchio mumbled. “Just a little knocked around, is all.” He flinched as he sat up.

     “Tell me what I need to do.”

     “Rohane…”

     “He needs to be taught a lesson.” The Blumaroo’s tone left no room for argument. Sobek squinted at Ellan, who was walking toward them, the carved staff already in his hands.

     “He’s all muscle,” Sobek observed. “I know I taught you restraint, but…this time, you must fight power with power.”

     “Then…”

     “Show him your strength, if that’s what he wants.”

     A smirk spread slowly across Rohane’s features and he rolled up his sleeves. “With pleasure.”

     “Are you asking your students to fight your battles for you now?” Ellan asked, twirling Sobek’s staff. He threw back his head and laughed, pointing the stick at Rohane. “Hey, buddy, this stage is too big for a Blumaroo. Why don’t you go back to your juggling and dice games?”

     “We’ll see about that.”

     Sobek pulled himself into a standing position, leaning against his desk. “Be careful.”

     The warning was barely out of the desert Scorchio’s mouth when the Wocky gritted his teeth and thundered forward, swinging the staff in a wide arc down and up. The wood whistled in the air as Rohane sidestepped almost effortlessly, eyes on his opponent, and he ducked when Ellan thrust the staff toward him. When he ducked, he jabbed his fist against Ellan’s stomach – not enough to knock the wind out of him, but enough to disrupt his movement long enough for the white Blumaroo to veer away.

     With a feral roar, Ellan charged toward him with the staff outstretched, but Rohane merely stuck out a foot and tripped him, causing Ellan to let go of the staff, which rolled away from his grasp.

     In this brief lull in the battle, Rohane caught a glimpse of his sword, which he had dropped to check on Sobek.

     I could run and get my sword, and end this quickly, he thought.

     “We’re not done yet!”

     The white Blumaroo leaned away with a gasp as Ellan threw a hard right toward his face, and then threw up his arm to shield himself from another punch. Ellan thrust out his arms, attempting to snatch him, but Rohane slapped both the Wocky’s wrists with his hands before leaping backward. Snarling, Ellan balled his hands into fists and began punching again, managing to graze Rohane’s cheek and strike his side. Nevertheless, Rohane expertly leaned away and dodged and parried with only his bare hands.

     Ellan next attempted a roundhouse kick, only for Rohane to grab his leg and pull the fire Wocky down onto the rug. But Sobek’s former student wasn’t giving up yet and scrambled to get back up. He lunged forward with a yell, and wheeled around to find Rohane already behind him, clutching him by the waist, and pulling him down onto the ground.

     “How – “ Ellan wrestled with his opponent, trying to pin him down, but Rohane was quicker. The white Blumaroo was back on his feet, and as Ellan went for him again, he caught the fire Wocky neatly before throwing him bodily across the tent.

     Just in time for Sobek to stand up, and for Talinia, Mipsy and Velm to return from their errands.

     “What – “ Talinia gasped and instinctively pushed Mipsy to the side.

     “What’s going on?” Velm cried, completing the green Eyrie’s exclamation. “Master Sobek? Rohane?”

     “You…”

     The fire Wocky barely noticed the additional audience as he strode toward Rohane somewhat shakily with the sword in his hands. “You’re just like me,” he hissed. “Raw power and strength…you don’t need Sobek, so why bother?”

     Rohane stared him down, placed one foot behind the other, and braced himself with fists upraised.

     “I know I don’t need him to beat you!” Ellan roared and swung the sword, which became a silvery blur headed straight for the white Blumaroo’s torso.

     But it never got there.

     With one fluid motion, Rohane twisted and successfully kicked the blade out of Ellan’s grasp before whirling around to punch him in the jaw, then knee him in the stomach. The Wocky instantly crumpled to the ground while Rohane returned, almost effortlessly, to his starting position.

     After picking up his sword and the staff, Rohane walked over to his mentor and offered the staff.

     “Thank you, Master Sobek.”

     The Scorchio grinned impishly. “No need to thank me. You took care of Ellan, all by yourself.”

     “Yeah, but…was throwing him really necessary?” asked Velm, kneeling to inspect Ellan’s injuries. “Master, wasn’t that…”

     “Maybe in another battle, it might have been too much. But my former student needed to learn a lesson the hard way. I hope he isn’t quick to dismiss the value of restraint from now on.”

     “Besides,” said Talinia, “the way Rohane disarmed that Wocky – I’d say that was a very good example of restraint.”

     “The punching was a bit too much,” Velm replied.

     “Well, in any case, I think you’re ready to face your final battle here in the Lost Desert,” said Sobek as Mipsy wrapped his arm in a bandage and gave him a healing potion. “My goal was never to change your fighting style entirely, but to help you maximize it. There are harder battles ahead, and you must learn to pace yourself through them. Still…I’m sure your friends will be there to make sure you don’t push yourself too hard.”

     Rohane smiled and shrugged as he sat down, rubbing his face where Ellan had boxed him. “I thought you said none of us are truly ready. But thank you, Master Sobek.”

     Sobek winked. “I won’t keep you any longer. The Lost Desert is ready to be free of its sandstorms.”

To be continued…