Finding the Inner Landscape is considered to be the easiest step for a Seeker. Depending on each individual, it takes about half a fortnight to become aware of it. However, breaking through to become a User is something different entirely. Within the Guild, almost one in three Seekers manage to break through, taking somewhere from one month to three.

Independent Seekers on the other hand may take as long as half a year, and it is estimated that only one in ten even gets access to their Inner Landscape. This discrepancy is attributed to the ritual of initiation by the Guild of Mages, which weakens the barrier and helps the Seeker to access it.

From The stages of the magical Arts, written by Fenna Gronveld

“For the record, I wouldn’t recommend you to catch things with your face,” Tom told his apprentice with a straight face.

Silas had managed to get his arms up just in time, but the stick had still hit the side of his head. Although it hadn’t really hurt, Silas still looked at Tom angrily. Even Gnarly was upset, creaking and pointing at Tom accusingly.

“I thought you were going to teach me something about the Arts,” Silas hissed through his teeth.

“Indeed I am. Remember that one never stops learning in life, be they old or young,” Tom stated sagely.

Silas fumed inside. His fingers twitched, wanting nothing more than to strangle the obnoxious old man.

Seeing how his apprentice was about to lose his patience Tom relented, his expression turning serious.

“Was there anything unusual about the stick, or how fast it was flying?”

“It was so fast I almost couldn’t block it!” Silas retorted, still angry at his master.

Unperturbed by Silas’ tone, Tom’s voice was calm as he responded.

“Yet you don’t seem to be hurt at all.”

Silas frowned, confusion evident on his face. His master was right. The stick had been incredibly fast, but apart from a slight bruise on his arms, he hadn’t even felt it.

“The stick seemed to slow down when it came near me,” the boy said hesitantly. “I thought it would hurt a lot more than it actually did.”

Tom nodded.

“Every living being has the ability to manipulate the Arts. Depending on the affinity, one will have greater success manipulating one Art or another,” Tom stated. “However, most people’s Inner Landscape is not large enough for it to be noticeable.”

That came as a surprise to Silas. Previously, he had assumed only Mages could manipulate the Arts.

“When someone is faced with danger they will subconsciously use whatever means to protect them, be they magical or mundane,” Tom explained.

“Do you know what that means, Silas?”

Taking a moment to respond, Silas thought back on when the stick was flying toward his face. The more he thought about it, the surer he felt that the stick really had slowed down a bit. It had flown way too fast for him to be able to raise both of his arms before it hit him.

“It means I used magic to slow it down?” Silas replied uncertainly.

“Correct. Gnarly probably helped, but yes, you did slow down the stick, even if you did so subconsciously.”

Creaking proudly, Silas’ wooden companion puffed its chest out, flexing with one arm.

“Anything else?” Tom asked Silas, who had already forgotten his anger.

Silas thought for a moment, but nothing came to his mind.

“It also means you are very likely to have an affinity for wood. Even with Gnarly’s help, the stick couldn’t have slowed down that much if you had an affinity for water or some sort of metal,” his master explained.

“Is that good?”

“There are no good or bad affinities. Some are easier to learn than others, but in your case wood is a very good affinity to start. Especially considering your companion is bound to have the same affinity,” Tom said, glancing at Gnarly standing on Silas’ shoulder.

“Wouldn’t it be better for me to have a different affinity, so Gnarly and I can cast different spells?”

Tom screwed up his nose, looking at Silas with unconcealed disgust.

“Only those nitwits back at the Guild cast spells,” Tom said, spitting out the last word. “Real Mages don’t need spells to wield magic, and trust me, you’re better off not using them at all.”

Silas nodded meekly, surprised by his master’s strong dislike for the Guild of Mages. He didn’t know why he despised the Guild so much. Yet this didn’t seem like the right moment to ask, either.

“And to your question, having the same affinity as your companion brings multiple advantages. It not only strengthens the bond between Mage and bonded creature, but also makes using magic easier for both parties,” the old man explained. “And besides, you can acquire other affinities later on.”

“Getting more affinities? How, master?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with that right now. You just became a Seeker. If you break through and become a User, I will consider telling you how.”

A Seeker! Silas knew this was just a term to describe anyone who had the potential to become a Mage, but he was still proud of himself. He already saw himself standing on top of an imaginary hill, an army of soldiers before him. His cloak fluttering in the wind, he raised both of his arms. The earth itself began to tremble.

Massive roots suddenly emerged from the earth below him, hundreds of smaller vines shooting out and striking the unsuspecting enemies. The roots then transformed into a gigantic fist, and Silas punched. The fist barreled into the army, sending soldiers and horses flying everywhere. Nature was his to command.

“Are you listening?” Tom’s angry voice shook Silas out of his daydreaming.

The boy opened his mouth, desperately thinking what to say to avoid getting hit on the head again.

“Could master Tometheor please repeat what he just said?” he asked, trying to be as respectful as possible.

Tom snorted loudly, and Silas thought he could see a bit of snot flying out of his nose.

“I said your first step as a Seeker is to find your Inner Landscape. To do so, concentrate on what you felt when you slowed down the stick I threw, and where that feeling came from. If you need help, I will gladly assist you though,” Tom added, smiling as he bend down to pick up another stick.

“N-no I’m fine master, I think I will manage.”

“Are you sure?” Tom asked while holding the stick in his right hand.

“Quite sure, yes.” Silas had already raised his arms in case Tom threw the stick anyway. One could never be too careful with the old man.

A breath of relief left Silas when the old man eventually let the stick fall to the ground.

“From now on, after each training session with the spear, you will meditate and try to find your Inner Landscape. If you don’t find it within a few days, I will assume you require more… inspiration,” the old man said, his weird smile returning.

Silas gulped, assuring his master that he would find his Landscape as soon as possible.

The darkness completely engulfed the clearing by now, and the two decided to and go to sleep. Silas’ wooden bed only had a pile of leaves and animal furs as cover, but he didn’t mind it too much. It was comfy, and most of the time he was too tired to care anyway.

Not today, though. He thought about all that had happened today, still feeling too excited to sleep. He had used real magic! Silas could hardly wait to see what else he could do.

Gnarly shared his enthusiasm, creaking quietly while patting Silas’ nose. It seemed to have grown an inch or so but looked pretty much the same otherwise. Its big eyes stared at the ceiling of the cabin, and Silas could sense the anticipation radiating from it.

For the first time since his parents' death, Silas gave in to sleep without being afraid of nightmares. He would become a Mage, and there was nothing that could stop him.

As usual, Silas awoke to the feeling of his nose being pulled from left to right. Blearily opening his eyes, the boy saw Gnarly standing in front of him, amber-colored eyes staring into his own. It creaked enthusiastically, gesturing to the empty bed where Tom had slept.

Walking out the cabin door, Silas noticed Tom was already preparing breakfast. An iron hang above the campfire. After eating their bowl of porridge in relative silence Tom told Silas about today’s training regimen.

“Start by plucking out the weeds in the garden and repairing the fence. Those little devils broke it again,” Tom said, referring to the rabbits. “Afterward you can try to increase your aim with the bow, it’s about time you made some progress there.”

Silas didn’t like tending the garden. At all. It didn’t seem to matter how often he plucked the weeds, they just kept coming back. And while the rabbits were cute, they were also a real nuisance. Repairing the fence time and time again really grated on Silas’ nerves.

“What will you be doing meanwhile, master?”

“I will be in the cabin, writing.”

“What are you writing on?” Silas asked curiously.

“A book,” came the answer, the old man looking expressionless at Silas.

Not wanting to give his master the pleasure of asking again, Silas chose to stare back at the Tom. Silas schooled his face to be as neutral as possible. However, his master didn’t seem to be impressed by the least. If anything, he looked bored.

Moments passed as the two stared at each other until Silas eventually couldn’t take it anymore. The old man’s stare was just too much.

Snorting, Tom took his bowl and walked toward the cabin.

“Nice try, apprentice.” Silas couldn’t see it, but Tom’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

‘Tom could probably win a staring contest against a rock’ the boy thought to himself.

His master had already disappeared into the cabin, so Silas chose to get to work. The sooner he finished with the garden the sooner he could start training with the bow.

The sun had almost reached its zenith by the time Silas finished with the garden. Getting the bow and arrows from the cabin, Silas strung the bow as Tom had told him. Once more, the boy marveled at the beauty of the weapon. It was the image of elegance, and even Gnarly creaked with wonder as it laid eyes at the weapon.

The patterns in the middle flowed seamlessly into one another, their emerald and brown colors giving the bow an otherworldly feeling. The bow had to be worth quite something, and Silas asked himself how his master had gotten his hands on it. Tom didn’t seem to be rich, but then again, Silas also wouldn’t be too surprised if the old man had hidden a chest full of gold somewhere in the forest.

Drawing the bow was still hard, but Silas’ aim got better as he grew accustomed to the draw weight. Arrow after arrow sped toward the wall of the shed while Silas practiced. He forgot everything around him and focused solely on nocking, drawing, and releasing.

He did not even notice how Tom stood behind him, watching silently. Bending over, the old man whispered into Silas’ ear.

“Don’t let yourself get distracted.”

The arrow Silas was about to shoot flew wide, missing the wall of the shed completely. A high-pitched squeak escaped his mouth, and he turned around to look at his master with indignation.

“You can’t scare me like that, master!”

“Why not?” responded Tom, visibly confused.

“Because… because” but Silas just did not find the right words. He knew arguing with Tom would not result in anything.

Nodding to himself, his master gestured towards the cabin.

“Unstring the bow and get your spear from the cabin. We are going to do some sparring.”

Silas stood before Tom a moment later, holding his spear in both of his hands. His master held his staff instead of a spear, which gave the boy some relief.

“Your goal is to stab me with your spear. Don’t hold back, I will parry each of your strikes,” Tom declared. “Observe my movements closely, because I expect you to defend yourself from my strikes afterward.”

Hands sweaty, Silas advanced toward his master. He planned to feint a short thrust, then pull back and stab at his leg. Holding his spear at eye level, Silas thrust at Tom’s shoulder before pulling back immediately, thrusting again at the old man’s leg. Silas’ goal was to provoke Tom to block the strike, which would leave his legs and lower body unprotected.

However, his master didn’t even react to the feint and completely ignored the half-finished thrust. Silas tried to stab Tom’s leg, but the old men simply knocked Silas’ spear aside, causing the boy to lose his balance.

Fortunately, the soft earth and leaves cushioned his fall somewhat.

“Never plan strikes in a fight. The movement of your body and eyes betrayed you. Fighting is action and reaction, and planning specific strikes will leave you unable to spot a potential weakness,” his master lectured him.

Silas got up, nodding to show he had understood. This time he completely concentrated on Tom’s movement. Advancing once more, Silas took a fast step forward and lunged at Tom. The latter stepped back with one foot and then knocked Silas spear aside before hitting him lightly on the head.

“Better, but overextending will leave you open and unable to block in case your strike fails. Always leave yourself the option to retreat. In a real fight, one small act of overconfidence can easily cost your life.”

“I will now teach you the basics of parrying. Use a short thrust to strike at me slowly. Only concentrate on what I do. Your own strike is not important right now,” Tom said.

Once more leveling the spear up at eye level, Silas slowly jabbed at Tom’s shoulder. The old man shifted his body, explaining his actions while he parried.

“You stab at my left shoulder, so I turn my body to the right to push your spear out of harm’s way. The better the block is, the easier the following counterattack will be,” he said.

Tom then pushed his staff down the length of Silas’ spear, simultaneously nudging the spear off-course while coming closer to Silas’ head with his staff.

“Remember, footwork is very important. If you stand right, you can dodge almost any strike. With a two-handed spear, you are almost always going to be the one attacking first, but a good block will leave your enemy open and without any chance to retaliate.”

They changed roles after a short time, and it was Silas’ time to block with Tom attacking. The boy received more than a few thrusts from Tom’s staff, but Silas learned quite a bit about defending yourself with a spear. He realized that blocking was, most of the time at least, not even necessary. It completely sufficed to divert the weapon from its path and step aside, rather than try to take the brunt of the whole strike.

The training continued for longer than Silas would have liked, leaving him exhausted and his arms aching by the time they finished. Tom eventually called a stop to it, looking at the sweating Silas. He himself didn’t even have the slightest sheen of perspiration on him.

“As I told you yesterday, you will now meditate after each training session until you find your Inner Landscape. In which position you do so does not matter, but what’s important is that you feel relaxed, both in body and spirit,” Tom told him.

“Take deep breaths, and try to forget everything around you except the rhythm of your breathing. Your Landscape is essentially the source of your magic power, so thinking back on when the stick hit you might be a good start.”

“I understand, master, but what exactly is my Inner Landscape? And why is it named that way?”

“That is a good question, but also one I’m not going to answer since it’s only going to distract you from your goal. When you gain access to it, I will tell you,” Tom promised.

While Silas did not like his master’s answer, he also knew there was no point in trying to insist.

“Where am I supposed to meditate?” Silas asked the old man.

Tom spread his arms wide.

“Wherever you want, but don’t wander off too far. I don’t want to have to search for you,” he replied.

Tom had already walked away to prepare lunch, so Silas looked around to find a good spot. He chose a nondescriptive tree to sit under, resting his back against its trunk. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember how he had felt before the stick had hit him. However, apart from the small feeling of dread and annoyance at his master’s methods he could not feel anything special.

With a shake of his head, he realized he was supposed to focus on his breathing. Trusting in Tom’s judgment, Silas took deep breaths and tried to forget everything around him. But his mind was occupied, and stray thoughts kept interrupting his attempts at finding his Inner Landscape.

The sparring from earlier, the feeling of the bow in his hands, even his master’s stern face flashed before his mind’s eye. It took a while for Silas to calm down and all the new experiences to move into the background.

Taking deep breaths, Silas concentrated solely on the rhythm of his own body. His muscles relaxed, his mind like a ship on still waters. It felt akin to letting his body float with a current of a small stream. He let go of everything, his breathing guiding him deeper and deeper into his being.

A long time passed as Silas meditated, and Tom had long since finished preparing the lunch. As Silas delved deeper into himself he eventually felt a tingling sensation, akin to a limb having fallen asleep. Only the sensation came from somewhere within him. Excited, he began to search for its origin, suddenly very aware that he may have just found his Inner Landscape.

Unfortunately, his sudden excitement threw him out of his meditation as his breathing quickened. He immediately tried to plunge back in but was now way too distracted by his success to reach any sense of tranquility.

Silas reluctantly opened his eyes and walked around the cabin, trying to find Tom. He found his master hunched over a leather-bound book, a quill in his right hand. Turning around, the old man gestured to the pot hanging above the fireplace.

“Let’s eat, shall we?”

Tom took two clean bowls and spoons from inside before shooing Silas out of the cabin.

“What kind of book have you been writing on, master?” Silas asked the old man with curiosity.

“Not important,” the old man replied offhandedly.

While Tom’s reply did nothing to satisfy his curiosity, Silas let the matter drop and told his master about his first attempt at meditation. His master nodded a few times but seemed unimpressed otherwise.

It was already way past midday, so the two of them spend the rest of the day going out hunting.

Tom again pointed out various plants and herbs for Silas, while also questioning his apprentice about the previously learned ones. They returned in the evening, eating a quick dinner before calling it a day and going to sleep.

Gnarly rested on his chest comfortably, and Silas felt the connection to his wooden companion as he fell asleep. In his dreams, Silas walked through a lively forest. Gnarly stood on his right shoulder, filling him with a sense of harmony. He was sure he had never been in the forest before, yet it felt strangely familiar to him.

Silas somehow knew he was walking right towards the heart of the forest, Gnarly guiding him along the way.