Chương 107: Chapter 10: Into the Wild - Part II

Garrick POV The first thing I learn is that sensing mana is considerably easier than controlling it. The second is that Elyrion has apparently known this all along. I sit cross-legged beneath one of the Heartwoods with my hands resting loosely upon my knees, trying to follow the faint current moving somewhere beneath my skin. It is there. I know it is there now. After Communion, I can feel mana in ways I never could before, and the knowledge of its presence has become almost impossible to ignore.

What I cannot do is make it go where I want.

"Stop forcing it." Elyrion's voice comes from somewhere to my left.

"I am not forcing it."

"You are." I open my eyes. The elf sits several paces away, leaning against the trunk of another Heartwood with his sword resting across his lap. He looks entirely too comfortable for someone who has spent most of the morning watching me fail at something that seems effortless to him.

"I am trying to move it."

"That is the problem." I stare at him, "Then what exactly am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing." I look back toward my hands, "That's not particularly helpful."

"It is if you listen." I suppress a sigh and close my eyes again. Mana is still there. I reach for it and it slips away. I try again, more carefully this time, attempting to guide the sensation from my chest toward my arm. Nothing. Then, just as I think I have finally managed to catch it, the entire current scatters through my body. I grimace, "That felt worse."

"It was."

"You're becoming remarkably encouraging."

"I find honesty more useful." I hear the faintest amusement in his voice. I let my shoulders relax and try again. This time I don't reach for the mana. I simply become aware of it. The sensation is different from yesterday. Less overwhelming. I can distinguish the faint pulse of my own mana from the countless currents surrounding me, though the boundary between them remains indistinct. The Grove is everywhere. Roots carry mana beneath the soil. Leaves hold it in delicate traces.

Even the air seems to contain a faint residue that brushes against my senses whenever the wind passes through the trees. My own mana feels almost crude by comparison, untrained and unfamiliar. Yet it is mine. I follow the sensation without trying to control it. A slow warmth gathers beneath my sternum. I let it remain there.

"Good," Elyrion says quietly. I don't answer. The warmth moves. Not because I command it but because I stop resisting the movement. It spreads through my chest, then toward my shoulder and down my arm. The sensation is faint enough that I might have mistaken it for imagination yesterday. Today I know better. My fingers twitch. A small spark of green light flickers between them. My eyes open, the light disappears. I stare at my hand. Elyrion remains seated.

"Again." I almost laugh, "That's it?"

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know."

"Then you're already expecting too much." I shake my head and close my eyes once more. The next attempt lasts longer. The mana gathers. It moves through my arm. This time, when it reaches my hand, I manage to hold it there. For perhaps three heartbeats. Then it bursts apart. I open my eyes and stare at the empty space between my fingers.

"Three seconds."

"Four." I glance toward him, "You counted?"

"I always count."

"Why?"

"Because improvement is easier to recognize when you have something to measure." That sounds suspiciously like something a soldier would say. I smile faintly, "You're starting to sound like a captain." Elyrion's expression remains perfectly calm, "Perhaps you've been teaching me." I laugh. It feels strange. Yesterday I am trying to understand mana. Today I am beginning to make it answer. The thought gives me a quiet satisfaction I haven't felt since the day I first managed to defeat a veteran swordsman in training.

I look toward the Silverwood in the distance.

"How long did it take you?"

"To control mana?" I nod. Elyrion considers the question, "I don't remember."

"That's not an answer."

"It was a long time ago."

"How long?"

"A few decades." I raise an eyebrow, "That's reassuring." He gives me a faint smile.

"I was young."

"You don't look that old."

"I assure you, I was young once." I decide not to pursue the subject. Instead, I reach for my sword. Elyrion notices immediately, Already?"

"I've spent enough of the morning sitting still."

"You've spent enough of the morning learning."

"I'd like to do something I'm good at." That earns an actual smile, "Then you'll enjoy this." He rises and draws his sword. I stand opposite him. The practice field beneath the Heartwoods is quiet, the ground softened by fallen leaves and damp earth. Sunlight reaches us through gaps in the canopy, shifting whenever the wind moves the branches overhead. I settle into my stance. Elyrion does the same. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. For a moment, neither of us moves.

Then he steps forward. This time I don't watch his sword. I watch his body. His shoulders; his hips; his feet. I wait for the movement that comes before the attack. And when it does, I move first. Our blades meet and the impact runs through my arms. Elyrion's eyes narrow slightly. I press forward as Elyrion gives ground, retreating only far enough to keep the distance between us while I continue driving him backward.

When he yields another step, I follow immediately, refusing to give him the space he needs to reset his stance, and for the first time since we begin training, I manage to force him back more than once without allowing him to dictate the pace of the exchange. I commit to another strike when I see what looks like an opening, but Elyrion turns my blade aside with a smooth movement of his wrist and uses the momentum of my attack to guide his practice sword toward my shoulder before I can recover.

"Better." I grin, "You're getting worried."

"No," he lowers his sword, "I am becoming interested." I laugh, "That sounds worse." He raises his blade again, "Again." I take my stance. This time, I am ready. Somewhere beyond the Garden walls, Kaelen is already making his way into the forest. I wonder what he'll find out there. Then Elyrion attacks and I stop thinking about anything else. ….. Kaelen POV The creature moves before I do. Something heavy crashes through the undergrowth to my left, followed by the snapping of a branch somewhere beyond the clearing.

The Hollowmane's ears flatten against its head, and I turn toward the sound with my blade already in my hand. Nothing, only trees. I wait. The forest settles slowly around me, though the silence feels different now. The birds have stopped calling. Even the insects seem quieter, as if the entire clearing has drawn a breath and decided to hold it. I don't need to see the creature to know it is still there.

My attention spreads through the surrounding woodland, touching the roots beneath the soil and the living things hidden among the undergrowth. The trees give me fragments rather than answers. Something large moves between them. Something heavy enough to disturb the roots beneath its feet, fast enough that the impressions overlap before I can follow them. The Hollowmane growls. A low, unfamiliar sound, I glance down at it.

"Stay close." The cub's eyes remain fixed upon the trees. I take another step into the clearing. The Veyrakh comes from behind. I feel the disturbance a heartbeat before it reaches me and turn just as a massive shape tears through the brush. I throw myself sideways, the creature passing close enough that the rush of air catches my cloak. It lands several paces away and digs its claws into the earth, throwing loose soil behind it as it turns. So that's what we're dealing with.

The Veyrakh is larger than I expect, standing almost as high as my chest at the shoulder, with a long, muscular body covered in overlapping slate-grey scales that catch the light between the trees. Four powerful legs support its weight, each ending in thick, curved claws built more for tearing than digging, while a heavy tail sweeps slowly behind it to counterbalance its movements.

Its head is broad and wedge-shaped, with a pair of small, dark eyes set beneath a heavy ridge of bone, but it is the mouth that draws my attention most. When its jaws part, the lower half separates slightly at the center, revealing rows of backward-curving teeth designed to hold anything unfortunate enough to be caught between them. It lowers its head and fixes those dark eyes upon me, its nostrils flaring as it draws in my scent.

There is no intelligence in that gaze that I can recognize, but there is a familiar animal certainty in it. I have stepped into its territory, and it has decided that I am something worth driving from it. I tighten my grip around my blade.

"All right," I murmur.

"Let's see why you've been giving the hunters so much trouble." The creature lowers itself, watching me from beneath a heavy brow while its long tail moves slowly behind it. I raise my blade and the Veyrakh charges. I wait until the last possible moment before stepping aside. Its claws tear through empty air. I twist with the movement and slash across its flank as it passes. My sword bites through the outer layer of its hide, drawing a dark line across its side, but the wound is shallow.

The creature turns almost immediately, faster than something of its size has any right to be, and comes at me again. This time I hold my ground and reach for the earth beneath the Veyrakh's front legs, drawing upon the roots buried beneath the clearing. They answer almost immediately, pushing through the soil in a tangled mass that coils around its limbs just as it commits to another charge.

The creature stumbles when the roots catch it, and I use the opening to close the distance, bringing my sword across its exposed neck before it can tear itself free. The blade bites through the outer scales and opens a deep wound, drawing a furious roar from the beast that rolls through the clearing and sends a scattering of leaves from the branches above.

The Veyrakh thrashes violently, tearing itself free as the roots snap one after another beneath its strength, and I retreat several steps to give myself room before it can recover. Blood runs darkly along its flank, but the wound has done little to diminish its aggression. I can feel the creature's anger spreading through the surrounding land, not as a thought or anything resembling language, but as a violent disturbance in the living rhythm of the forest, and I reach for the grove before it can charge again.

The world shifts around me. For an instant, the clearing seems larger than it was a moment ago, the trees stretching higher while the shadows deepen beneath them. The Veyrakh's movements become uncertain as my magic settles around its senses, never quite taking hold strongly enough to control it, but distorting the world around it just enough to make certainty impossible. It turns toward where it believes I am standing, jaws opening as it prepares to strike, only to find empty air.

I am already moving around its flank. My sword slips beneath its foreleg before it can recover, and the creature recoils with another roar as I wrench the blade free. Its claws swing toward me in a blind counterattack, forcing me beneath the arc of its strike, and I drive my shoulder into its side as I pass, using its own momentum to send it stumbling several paces beyond me. It crashes against a tree hard enough to shake the trunk, and before it can turn, the Hollowmane darts from behind me.

For one terrible heartbeat, I think the cub has decided to join the fight. Instead, it leaps onto a fallen branch and arches its back, every hair standing upright as it hisses at the Veyrakh with a fury that seems almost comical for something so small. The creature turns toward it.

"Hey," My voice cuts across the clearing. The Veyrakh's attention shifts back toward me, its eyes narrowing as it reassesses the greater threat.

"Leave him alone." Whether it is my tone, the remnants of my magic still clouding its senses, or simply the creature deciding that I am more dangerous than the small beast perched nearby, I don't know. Whatever the reason, it lowers its head and charges once more. This time I meet it. Mana gathers instinctively through my limbs as I step into the attack, strengthening my movements before I consciously think to call upon it.

I slip beneath the lowered head as the Veyrakh rushes past, turning with its momentum while bringing Nemain upward beneath its jaw. The blade finds the softer flesh between the scales and drives deep, and the creature jerks violently as the force of its own charge carries it past me. I release the sword before its convulsing body can wrench it from my grip. For several heartbeats, the Veyrakh remains standing, swaying heavily as blood spills from beneath its jaw.

Then its legs finally give way, and the creature collapses onto the forest floor with enough force to shake the ground beneath my boots. I remain where I am, breathing hard as the last traces of mana fade from my limbs. Slowly, the clearing begins to breathe again. The birds return first, tentative calls passing between the branches before growing louder, followed by the steady hum of insects that had fallen silent during the fight.

Leaves rustle overhead as the wind moves through the canopy, and the oppressive tension that had settled over the clearing gradually disappears. The Hollowmane approaches the fallen Veyrakh with considerably more caution than it showed during the fight, lowering its head to sniff the corpse before apparently deciding that the creature is no longer interesting. It turns away and begins grooming one paw. I stare at it for a moment before laughing under my breath.

"That's all?" The cub looks up at me briefly before returning to its grooming. I shake my head.

"I suppose I should have expected that." I retrieve my sword and wipe it clean against the grass before sliding it back into its sheath. The Veyrakh has been dead for less than a minute, yet the forest already feels different. The tension has gone from the surrounding trees, replaced by something quieter and almost peaceful, and when I place my palm against the nearest trunk, the sensation that answers is faint but unmistakable relief. A smile touches my lips, "You're welcome."

The tree offers no response, although it hardly needs to. I glance toward the road beyond the clearing and consider the work still ahead of me. The Guild will require proof of the kill, and I'll let one of the local hunters verify the carcass before I leave the area, but beyond that there is little reason to disturb the creature. If it possesses a beaststone, it can remain with the body rather than being harvested for a few extra coins. The Hollowmane suddenly trots past me and disappears into the undergrowth.

I stare after it, "Where are you going?" Its tail flicks once before vanishing between the trees. I sigh and follow. For a while, I simply walk beneath the canopy with the cub somewhere ahead of me, listening to the forest settle back into its familiar rhythm. There are no soldiers waiting for orders, no council meetings demanding my attention, no priests questioning what the Grove has become, and no royal envoys calculating what might be taken from it.

There is only the forest, a creature that has apparently decided to adopt me, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing that for today, at least, I have done exactly what I set out to do. The path home should be uneventful but I have learned better than to trust such thoughts.