THE time at last came for Iḷēhaḥ and Tūmbṃār to train. Yet they yawned and were unable at that moment to keep attentive to the lord’s words. Feyūnhaḥ had woken them early, Iḷēhaḥ still being slightly intoxicated from the previous night’s drinking bout—though admittedly, most of it had cleared upon lashing out at the officials.

Iḷēhaḥ had not yet forgotten the incident concerning them, but Feyūnhaḥ reassured her, saying, “Don’t worry about what happened yesterday. I have hope they will come around. It will only take time is all.” And while Iḷēhaḥ wished to help her, she brought the issue up no further and trusted in her words.

Athruyam had decided to take an extended leave from his role as regent, leaving all such things to his sister whenever needed, and to the many ministers and high-level aristocrats. He did not much feel comfortable to be leaving the teaching to others when it felt as though he was under the scrutiny of the sage. There was no one more qualified in the art of battle than he, but he would at times call for Feyūnhaḥ to help when she was free, and no doubt it proved a good respite for her.

It was unfortunate, however, that not even his leave allowed his sister to get on the better side of the aristocrats, regardless of how much she tried to aid or please them. But Feyūnhaḥ would not give in now, and was determined more than ever to find another resolution. Athruyam, not losing hope, aided her greatly in her search, and it would not be long before the opportunity presented itself again.

The two would-be trainees neither took showers nor ate any breakfast, and were brought fast to a clearing, far into the cedar woodland that lay behind the palace. The sun was just beginning to rise as the two stood before Athruyam.

He held a smile and said, “No rest or food till the day’s training is over. I hope you two are prepared.” And the pair gulped at his words.

Tūmbṃār and Iḷēhaḥ kept under Athruyam’s tutelage for three months, rising early every morning and sleeping late every night. Not a morsel came their way for them to feed on till the day’s instruction had passed, a gruesome regimen indeed for those ill-equipped in fortitude. Their training consisted of running around the perimeter of the city, fully armored and carrying packs filled with weights—often tiring out the maiden even before the main session began—as well as sparring with their weapons for prolonged periods, and exercises in honing the elements. In fact, it did not seem much different than when Tūmbṃār trained with his teacher, but the exercises proved just a little easier and much less harsh.

“How do you shoot lightning?” asked Tūmbṃār. “Even my teacher was able to do the same.”

A day of training had just finished, and he talked with Athruyam as he did on many nights. This one particular thing, however, had been bothering him for quite a while. The lord sat there, pondering how best to explain it. It was not a particularly easy element to hone, but given Tūmbṃār’s ability, it would not have been impossible for him to learn now.

He shifted his gaze to various things around him and then exhaled. “Look around you, Tūmbṃār. What do you see?”

Tūmbṃār looked around himself and took glances at the rocks, grass, trees, and sky. He cocked his head, confused as to what Athruyam had meant.

“I see the rocks, grass, trees, and sky – along with the ladies and the wolf, but I don’t see what any of that has to do with anything.”

“The rocks, grass, trees, sky, and all of the earth and planets–the entire natural world is built on the four principle elements with the addition of space, and it alone holds those elements together, allowing them to move and shift as the energy within all living things.”

Athruyam pointed his finger up, directing Tūmbṃār’s attention. “But in the case of various phenomena such as lightning, there is an additional element that must be used in combination with the other five. And that is called aether. The best way to describe it is that it is a medium by which all the other elements are able to behave and exist. If space is needed to move and manipulate the four elements, then aether is needed for these each to be tangible and exhibit their inherent nature. If manipulated with precision, one could use it to change the nature of a single element or multiple elements. One day, I shall teach you how to use it. But as to the exact specifics of combining the other elements with it, that is not something I can teach. You shall need to figure that by your own will.”

Tūmbṃār pouted and said, “I can’t say I understand all of that, but why do you lie to me? I know you can teach it to me! I was able to fuse elements before, even if I was a little bit lucky, but you’ve gotten me this far! So, how then can you say that you can’t teach me this?”

Athruyam laughed and patted him. “Do not be angry. Fusing the principal elements is trivial and hardly needs to be taught, but I do not lie when concerning the aether. It is not something that can be instructed – at least not by me. I can show you how to produce the aether and manipulate it to an extent, but any more is beyond my ability.

“In the Days of Tribulation and before, some Ṃārhaḥn were able to converse telepathically with each other. And not just words, but experiences as well. Yes, if a person for instance, saw an image or place or person that moved his heart, he could transfer such a sensation to another provided they were attuned. Just as you are attuned to your Dvı̄sahlvah, so too were the people then attuned with just about anything they could sense. In the same way were knowledge and skill transferred, primarily through disciplic succession. Unfortunately for me, I do not possess such ability even with the long years I have lived. The last person I knew possessed of it was Zūryaṃār, but he too is long gone now.”

Tūmbṃār’s eyes then gleamed with wonder. “You knew Zūryaṃār? That would make you thousands of years old then! Wait, even older!”

“Aye! I even participated in that war that tore the continents apart, on Lord Zūryaṃār’s side no less, though I have lost the exact count of the years since its end. A valiant statesman he was, with his only fault being he loved his brothers too much. Had he not pardoned them for the crimes against him and his family, perhaps much destruction could have been avoided, but I should not speak as if I know better.

“Suffice to say, you yourself must figure out how to shoot lightning after I have taught you to use the aether. When you have ascertained it, that knowledge shall not leave you. It will become second nature, much like eating and drinking – in which no doubt those two ladies are well versed.”

The boy relented to his words and retired for that night. He was giddy over the idea of issuing lightning from his fingers and being just a little bit more like his teacher, granted the sage himself never shot lightning; it just happened to strike around him.

The months passed by quickly and the day came when they were able to course much of their power through their Dvı̄sahlvah and thereafter gain a tight grasp of wielding the elements. The lord and princess could not have been happier. Athruyam then took his chance, to teach Tūmbṃār in secret how to use the aether. And while he seemed hesitant, he also dispensed the knowledge in using other powers. These were much greater but more difficult to wield, knowing full well the boy’s resolve in not killing the demon. Iḷēhaḥ and Feyūnhaḥ, over time, became suspicious of the late-night training, but it would not be long before they would see the results.