The Temple of Pain:
Broadleaf Form.

Chris Alan had done rather well in his basics for a first-timer his ability to grasp patterns, coupled by sheer willpower, helped in this vein. To his own amazement, Chris Alan’ body seemed to be cooperating with him; even without the Gift of Healing, his body seemed able to take almost any amount of punishment. To Autumn, Chris Alan felt harder, even firmer, but he looked no different; his body structure remained unchanged. It was as if being an unchanging Protector had carried over into his very body.

With a focused mind and eager eyes, Chris Alan went through the basics time and again over the span of two weeks: stances, blocks, punches, Blademaster basics and kicks. Toa was pleased and smiling; whatever punishment he dished out, Chris Alan took it in stride, and daily the lad grew stronger. Whether it was hundreds of push ups, sit ups, squats, handstands for an hour or some grueling slave type work like fixing the dome of the Temple alone (which involved lifting heavy blocks), Chris Alan took it on with a will. Every day it was drill, drill, drill: the basics over and over again, until they seemed to come out of his ears. He was sent running with two large caldrons for water, running all the way to the river and back again without spilling a drop, carrying them both on his back with a bamboo pole. It was pain for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

At one point Slate had complained loudly to Toa that he was putting Chris Alan through so much that he’d be at least as able and willing to do himself. “You’re being cruel, fella,” he said in his usual straightforward (and rather irreverent) way. “Blondie’s mind, soul and body ain’t built for that kind of abuse.”

“For you, bearing such burdens is a natural strength,” Toa had replied mildly. “For Chris Alan, it is not. Thus it is he, not you, who must bear such burdens.”

“Have Rafael review our temperaments, interactive styles and orders of cognitive processes for you, Slate,” Chris Alan had shouted from the Temple roof. “He’s right, you know. In this I have to become more like you, just as in other ways you need to become more like me.” Toa nodded his approval, then gestured toward Rafael and his internal data base. And that was that.

Despite all he did during the day, at night Chris Alan still had the energy for the love sessions with Autumn his wife – and even in these, he was getting stronger by the day. She would go all out, but no matter what she tried, she could not tire Chris Alan out; he always seemed to have fuel left in his tank. As a Lightchild and a Protector, he’d always been an athletic, if unusually spiritual lover; now his athleticism was coming more to the fore. Autumn knew it was silly to entertain the doubts that she did; Chris Alan loved her to death. Still she couldn’t help but wonder, was she still a satisfactory wife? Before, both parties would be exhausted at the end of their sessions, but no longer; Toa’s exercises were making Chris Alan outclass her. While Autumn was left bone tired, Chris Alan could stay up late into the night and read or perform some other activity.

On such a night Chris Alan sat in a chair reading the Codex. Autumn rose and stared him down with a mean look.

“What is it?” Chris Alan felt the burning stare.

“All you do is train; it’s as if Toa is your wife now.” She was too tired to shout, even though she felt like it.

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.” She pouted.

“You’re being silly now.” Chris Alan replied gently and placed the Codex on the table. Already, though, he suspected that his was the wrong answer. Autumn was highly intelligent, able to pull countless facts seemingly out of thin air and weave them into a coherent picture, but another part of her Inspirer self was an emotional vulnerability, a deep need to be loved and appreciated for her own sake.

“I don’t satisfy you anymore.” She wept. Chris Alan quickly ran over to her.

“Now, now don’t say that; you fulfill my dreams and then some.”

“Then why am I the only one worn out here? Are you really putting your all into your training?”

Chris Alan stepped back at such a provocative question. “Are you kidding? Toa wouldn’t have it any other way – and neither would I. It’s just that the training’s transforming me from the inside out. That’s why I have to go through it. You know that.”

“I know, but…”

Chris Alan cut her off with a kiss. “Why not go jogging in the morning, do some exercising yourself?”

“Are you calling me fat?” She punched his arm.

“Ow! No, but I am fitter now. It wouldn’t be difficult for you to catch up; you *were* a Pack Leader for the Kayai Special Forces, after all. Or if jogging’s no longer your style, why not take up kickboxing with Slate? He can be your sparring partner, with his body receiving all the blows.”

Autumn thought about that last suggestion. As a consummate Doer, Slate needed physical activity for its own sake, and would appreciate spending time in workouts with her.

“O.K., kickboxing it is – but be prepared to be the one exhausted next time, buddy.”

“O.K., O.K.” Chris Alan held up his hands in mock defense.

****************************

“You have done very well, young cub, better than I expected. Now you can move on to your first form, the form that each of my students *must* learn. When the White Hand returns to you, you will be able to control plants just like Edwin and I can; but for now you must learn the principle and its fighting use.”

“I am ready, *Sifu*.” Chris Alan bowed.

“What I will show you and teach you is called the Broadleaf Form. The broadleaf (tyme) is a plant we Easterners have used for tea for generations. The principle you must learn through this form is *growth*.”

“*Growth*?”

“Yes – all the more in that you are the Catalyst, the Green Leaf. Like the seedling or young plant, the most important thing you must master is growing – and not just growing but the *way* you grow. Bad roots equals bad fruit – understand?”

“Yes, *Sifu*. How should I use this form in real-life fighting?”

“It is for facing many opponents, as a young plant must face many dangers in its first years of growth. Nicholas, Slate, and Bakbuk after his fashion are all very good external fighters, but they usually have to stop the combo moves to deliver the killer move. They like to set you up for the big one, so to speak; but to do so calls for a redirection of energy, sometimes a pause in action to draw from the body the power needed to deliver the blow.”

“How is the broadleaf different?” Chris Alan wanted to hear this explanation.

“A plant does not get life and power from itself, but from the ground, the water, the sun and the air. Like the plant you must learn to use your body in such a way to maximize growth.”

“I’m listening, *Sifu*.”

“The broadleaf begins with one soft simple move, but the power for the next move is generated from the momentum of the previous one and is stronger than the first, all moves that follow, flows off the raised energy of the last, gradually, ever increasing over time. In this fighting form, there is no need to stop. Your combos can go on forever, always growing, always coming with more force than the last. You do not tire because it takes minimal energy on your part to continue the flow; gravity and momentum take care of most of your needs.”

“If they strike early enough, couldn’t they gain the upper hand?”

“True, but they would be opening up their way of fighting before they need to. The fitness you are gaining is to help you with stand such blows. Remember, they are limited in the power they can deliver; they are relying on their strength and that has limits. The broadleaf teaches you to grow on the power gained from outside yourself, even energy from your enemy. Yes, I have seen rocks and boulders crush many a plant; but leave a rock there long enough and the plants will claim it. Time is on your side in this form; use it. You know they have to strike early to have a chance, so be prepared for an early strike.”

“I am ready.”

“Good!”

***************************

The training session ended and Chris Alan was able to get the first five moves well; which would be one part of the form. The form itself contained over one hundred distinct moves, which could be put together in unending combinations.

Autumn ran down the stairs holding her mouth as if she had come from vomiting; she looked pale and sick.

“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Chris Alan caught her.

“I think I’m pregnant…”

“Rafael? Amber?” Both Guardians had come to their side quickly. “Can you scan her?”

Amber took care of the biochemical readings while Rafael did the equivalent of a resonance scan. “There seems little doubt, Chris Alan,” said Rafael when they were finished.

Toa walked up to the couple and touched Autumn’s forehead with a glowing blue hand: the Gift of Healing. Autumn’s queasiness passed for the moment.

“You cannot always count on my assistance in this way, dear one,” Toa said. “You have guessed rightly: the Chemist has been implanted in your womb, and the White Hand is with her.” Toa nodded with a most searching look in his eyes. “Now, my children, the Web of the Realms has changed.”