The following days after Danaal met the deer he could not stop thinking about the life draining from below his feet. The times he was free he spent in the woods feeling the power around him all the different heartbeats and energy sources. When he needed to chop fire wood he found it tough. After every tree fell he knelt by it and visualised sending it off into the ground, it’s essence finding a path to the power below his feet. He slowly began controlling his emotions using this same visualisation when fighting Balorek. He still could not control each blows power unless he allowed the emotions be at the forefront of his conscious but this was also dangerous, not for him but for Balorek. Balorek knew the boy was holding back so tried his hardest to disrupt the boy getting him up far before dawn and not letting him sleep or rest much. The training slowly wound the boy up and he ended up shattering Balorek’s shin against his fifth practice sword, much to the painful joy of the man. Danaal’s rage was intense more so at the smile on the man’s face as he hobbled off to be laid down by the Elderly woman.
“Why, do you push the boy so. He could kill us all if he holds all that power in him and releases in his sleep.” Lady Vanti said placing the general down on his bed, she got two straight pieces of wood and tied them tight with string and cloth around Balorek’s leg.
“He mus learn to control all e as inside him. Sadly, he wa very late bein given his power. By now e should be able to sense or heal quickly or at least figure it out logically. He’s distracted by tha vision e ad.” Balorek growled as Lady Vanti put a thick poultice over the top of the cloth to seep in. Balorek’s eyes stung form the odour of it.
“By woman, you’re ere to fix im not me. Not sure what tha stinkin mess is goin to do for my leg, amma quick healer.”
“This’ll help either way you old grump. Now lay there and I’ll get you some stew.” Lady Vanti left the room and he shook his head.
While the old ones were busy chatting Danaal had taken his pre-packed bag from under his bed and stolen a few loaves of bread for the journey. He needed answers and all he was getting here were evasions and lies, he was waiting for the day he truly hurt Balorek and then what would he have nobody left with him. He had decided that the Monument City would be the best place to start then he could also look at it for real. Also, his father would be there and even if he wasn’t his father he could help, if he was still alive. It still choked him, he was bred to be a powerful mage, not brought up by loving people, that was all a lie. He knew that his anger was driving him right now but better that than falling to his knees and sobbing, what good would that do.
He jogged for as long as his legs wold allow and then began intermittently jogging and walking, he’d figured out how to use some extra energy from his power to run for longer, but it made him feel so nauseas after a while, he had to sit and get some breath back. He had been told by the Lady Vanti that the shack was a two day walk from the nearest village which was pretty much a straight track from the hut. He was now thinking he should’ve stolen the horses, but they’d have known he was going then. This at least gave him a few hours before they suspected he’d left as he went for long walks into the woods all the time. As darkness and moonlight started eking between the trees above Danaal sat to eat some bread and take some water from his leather water skin. He remembered how his mother used to put half wine and half water into his skin when he was going into the woods as a boy and he’d come back a little light headed because she’d not diluted the wine enough. The unexpected memory made him feel angry, she was not his mother and she had no right to keep the things she had from him. He had not asked how she had kept his power from him if she was not his mother. He rolled out the furs he’d fetched with him and rolled up in them to get some rest, he’d made sure he couldn’t be seen from the track and leant up against a tree. The anger fading to sadness as he remembered her at the end, her body so emaciated and worn, her sunken cheeks not what her remembered of her happier days. The pulse of the tree taking in nutrients and life from deep below eased his anger at both his parents and he felt a cold tear fall from his eye and hang from the stubbly beard he was growing.
The eagle flight returned to him how awesome it was to be flying high above the trees, but this wasn’t what he remembered from the memory of the vision, this was a new memory. Was he simply dreaming he couldn’t control the flight, but he was staring down at Firwood forest the different types of trees and thickness sparking his recognition. The Eagle sensed something and saw another Eagle swooping so dived in to following the other bird of prey. Through the trees they flew, his Eagle trailing then he saw it. It was him on the floor bleeding from the head. The birds senses flared, attacking Balorek the other Eagle protected his lifeless body the other Eagle entered his ether, the air whipping cold around the bird and his body then, blackness.