Bartholomew Nelson and the World of Zathya: The Prince and The Heir

Chapter 20

The day dragged on and Bart dragged with it. He skipped lunch and hadn't seen Charlotte since their fight earlier. He wandered around what he thought to be the entire village without speaking to anyone for hours or engaging in any activities. On his journey through the small wooded population he saw many interesting things. He saw people hard at work, building different things out of wood and leaves. He saw kids playing in a field far out on the edge of the community. He found himself watching a group of men practicing wielding inside one wooden building over by the King's tent. They were extremely talented at wielding the air and the earth alike but what surprised Bart the most was how they used vines as weapons. Often one man would challenge the other and they would duke it out with only wielding as their tools for fighting. In every battle, at least twice, someone would use a vine. Whether it was from a nearby tree or through the floorboards, a vine was used to try and subdue their opponent. It was amazing to Bart. After staring at them for a long time unnoticed, Bart found himself watching a guy instruct some younger men in martial arts. This entire village felt so close knit, which made Bart feel even more like an outsider. He wasn't being greeted by anyone; in fact he was barely even being noticed. It irked him a little to feel so out of place and invisible.

After half the day had passed and the sun began to sink from its high seat in the sky, Bart found himself once again alone in his tent. There wasn't much to do inside the tent except sleep really. He decided he wasn't going to spend the entire night bored in his tent and he wasn't ready to sleep either. So he made his way out to the fields where he saw children playing earlier. Out there, he found no tents or houses, just empty space surrounded by trees in the distance. Bart looked behind him at the village and no one paid him any mind as he headed further out into the field. He decided he wanted to practice some of his own wielding while he had the chance. If he ever wanted to get as good as those men he saw earlier, he would have to keep practicing. First he focused himself, which had become relatively easy with time. He could hear the birds chirping in the distance. He could easily hear the cries of a baby back in the village and he could also smell the vegetables that were being cooked in the same house. No wonder the baby was crying, no child likes to eat their vegetables, no matter how good they are for you. As Bart opened his eyes, they focused to near eagle sharpness. The vivid images would have been startling had Bart not become used to them by now. One thing that he wanted to learn was how to pick and choose when his senses were this sharp without the weakening of his other senses. He told himself to ask Victoria how to do it if he saw her again. He picked his hands up slowly and then called upon the wind. Like a dog responding to its owner, the wind came whistling to Bart's fingertips and he began to command it. He could feel every single hair on his body being touched by it. When he told it to rise, it rose when he wanted it to dive, it dove. The more and more he practiced he could feel himself becoming very comfortable with it. The wind felt like a true friend in a time where Bart felt like he had lost his only one.

A good fifteen minutes went by before he decided to try and work on some of his weaker skills. He noticed a small rock on the ground near him. He focused on lifting it and then tried to turn it into a ball. At first it twisted and turned and then change but into a smaller rock. Then it turned into a bigger one, and then it returned to its normal size. In frustration he grabbed it and chucked it as far as he could.

"Well that won't help you," said a voice from behind Bart. He swung around, a little alarmed to see a girl, a little bit shorter than him but not by much standing there. She had on a long white skirt with a green tank top on. It was the same style of clothing Charlotte had been wearing just with different colors. She walked forward and the wind began to blow her long black hair in many different directions. Bart thought she couldn't be older than sixteen.