"No," he said in confusion. "I was just trying to stand against it."
"You are strong, my dear one," she said. "You tried to choke off the power, and instead choked it off completely. And I must say, I am impressed that you have managed to touch the Weave every time so far."
"It seems, easy," he said after thinking about it a moment. "It's just right there. It's like I was just trying to find it before, and now that I know where it is, it's very easy to touch."
"We shall see," she said with a smile. "Now, touch it again. This time, try to simply maintain your touch."
He nodded, reaching out for the Weave. And it was there for him. Again being flooded with magical power, this time he had an understanding of how it felt to control that power. Pushing against it with his will, he made it stop flowing into him, choking it down to the barest trickle. He already understood that if he totally choked it off, he would lose his connection to the Weave. It took effort. Alot of effort. Sweat formed on his brow as he worked to keep control of his power, fought against the raging torrent that was battering at his wall of willpower. "It's fighting me," he said shortly to his instructor.
"And it always will," she replied calmly. "You will learn how to keep control of it for long periods of time as you gain experience with it, dear one. It too is a learned skill. But for now, let it go."
With an explosive release of breath, Tarrin choked off the power, and let go of the Weave. He wiped his forehead with the furred back of a paw, feeling a bit winded. "I didn't realize that it was so much work," he told her.
"That is why you do not see very many portly Sorcerers," she said with a smile. "It is physical work to control the power."
"I noticed," he said. "Will it always feel this hard?"
"No, over time, you will strengthen your ability to control the power," she replied. "It will always be work, but it will seem less and less strenuous as time progresses. It is here where your strength works against you, dear one," she warned. "You have much more power to control than most others, and that means that it will tire you much more quickly until you learn how to manage it."
He considered her words for a moment. If other Sorcerers didn't feel that raging flood the way he did, he'd have to agree with her. It was like trying to hold back the tide, and what amazed him was that he could manage to do it. But he wasn't sure how long he could keep it up.
"Now, let us continue," she said. "Touch the Weave, and then let it go. And keep doing so until I tell you to stop."
When he left the training chamber a few hours later, he could barely walk. He felt so utterly exhausted that he could probably fall down and go right to sleep on the floor. He was too tired to even be happy over his successes for the day. Dolanna had been almost merciless in her instruction, making him touch the Weave, hold it for a moment, and then let it go, over and over and over. Tarrin never failed to touch the Weave, but as he began to tire, his control over it and his ability to let go of it began to get unstable. More than once, Dolanna had to step in and cut him off from the Weave. After she had to do it three times in a row, she finally relented and called it a day.
Numb with fatigue, Tarrin stumbled back to the north tower and to his room, taking almost half an hour to manage the three flights of stairs, and he crawled up onto his bed. He was too exhausted to take off his clothes, and it would be much faster, easier, and more comfortable to simply shapeshift and sleep in his cat form. It had never seemed like an effort to shapeshift before, but that time had nearly put him out. Once comfortably settled into his cat form, he flopped down on the pillow of his bed and fell immediately into a deep slumber.
Wake up, a voice seemed to call to him. You have to wake up.
Tarrin's eyes opened. It was night. Deep into night, by the light coming into the window. Tarrin was still laying on his pillow, but he had curled up into a less slapdash position during his slumber. His ears and nose detected no present threats, but Allia's scent lingered in the room from when she had come in a few hours before.
Uncertain of what woke him up, he looked around one more time, and then put his head back down.
Tarrin, you have to wake up now, the voice said sharply.
Ears picking up, Tarrin lifted his head again and looked around. Tarrin, you must get up! the voice said again.
Tarrin finally managed to place that voice, and when he realized who it was, he instantly stood up. "Goddess!" he gasped in the unspoken manner of the cat.
There isn't time, she replied urgently. You must get up and go to the main Tower. Do it now, kitten!
"What's the matter?" he asked as he dropped down from the bed.
Take your staff! she ordered. There is a Doomwalker on the grounds!
"What is that?"
An undead creature, she replied. It has enormous power, my kitten. It has come to kill you, and you must face it on ground of your own choosing.
"To kill me? Another attack?" he asked as he returned to his humanoid form, and then picked his staff up from the corner.
This goes far beyond anything you've yet seen, kitten, she warned. A Doomwalker is nothing to take lightly. The Wraith you fought is like a little baby holding a stick compared to it. You can't run away from it, you can't bargain with it, and unless you fight it on your own terms, you're not going to be able to beat it.
"Why there?" she asked. "I'd rather face an enemy outside, on open ground."
You never fight a Doomwalker when its feet stand on natural earth, she warned him. It can directly draw power from the earth when it is. It has to have metal or stone under its feet to cut it off from that power. You want to be deep in the Tower when it comes for you, so it can't possibly draw you outside. It will definitely want to do that.
Nervous, Tarrin darted from his room and quickly ran down the stairs, then dashed down the corridor and out of the north tower. He passed several guards at the door and on the grounds, then raced into the main Tower through a small entrance that led to the kitchens. If he had to be deep in the Tower proper, he had a good idea of where to go. To the main core chamber that most called the Heart of the Goddess. It was in the exact center of the Tower, and it had both alot of space and alot of vertical openness. If worse came to worst, he could climb or jump up to one of the many balconies that peppered the walls all the way up the Tower. He worried quickly at exactly what this Doomwalker creature was, and he shuddered at how the Goddess had described it. The Wraith had nearly killed him, and if this creature was more dangerous, then he had a good reason to be afraid. But he was Ungardt, and he would face the challenge like any proper warrior would. It was alright to be afraid, so long as he didn't allow his fear to rule him.
He reached the long corridor with its metal gate when he first smelled it. Its scent was that of corruption and decay, like an open grave, but it had a sharp ozone smell that he couldn't identify. It was coming directly towards him, and that smell, that unnatural scent, triggered the Cat into activity. Ears laying back, Tarrin growled in his throat as the Cat registered its hatred of that scent. It reacted much like that whenever he had faced unnatural beings, such as the Wraith. Opening the gate to the chamber, he slipped through it and closed it again, then looked up. The ceiling in the passage was higher than the threshold holding the gate, creating a solid overhang that was nearly three spans long. What a perfect place to lay in ambush.