Chapter 18: Grounded

Chapter 18: Grounded

Landar

I stood in the forest, next to my father, as the sun slowly crawled up to noon. It was still early morning, but every time I looked up, I desperately hoped it had moved. And every time I was disappointed.

Youre sure you dont want me, I dont know, picking up sticks or something? I asked as my father ignored me and stared into the woods. Watching the various groups of children who gathered roots, berries, wood, and other useful items from the area.

Yes. Your mother said youre grounded. That means doing nothing but chores. I remember when I was a kid, this was when I got into all kinds of trouble. So no, you stand by me and do nothing. Maybe by watching these kids do their work all day, youll learn to attend to your duty, and forget the worries of those older than you.

He tried to glare at me, but I could sense he was secretly proud of my actions. Hell, if my daughter had done it, Id feel the same way. Torn between needing to punish her foolishness and wanting to praise her bravery. And if she had said something as stupid as I want power because its the only way to protect our family, Id probably think I was putting too much pressure on her, too. You want your kids to know about the practical side of family struggles, but they also need to be kids.

It was a hard line for parents to walk.

I amused myself by trying to keep track of the older kids as they ventured through the denser and further parts of the forest. I watched the trees and bushes move as they passed under or through them, and listened for the sounds of their feet.

Eventually, a patrol passed us by, and the six men saluted my father, who only waved back. He was out of uniform in a volunteer position, not conducting actual guard work. Saluting would be inappropriate. At least thats what he said when I asked him about it.

The men are just being respectful. They dont need to be doing that kind of thing.

My father carried his cudgel, but he had left his spear in the guardhouse. Its part of the armory. I dont own it. But this? Well, it was a gift from your grandfather.

Can I see it? I asked as we sat down for lunch. I was desperate for something to do, and the other kids were gathered together in a glade within easy view. Besides that, the noon patrols were out watching the area. It was safe, as safe as anyone could make it.

But still my father hesitated. Then, as if thinking better of his good parenting decision not to allow his disobedient child to handle a deadly weapon, he pulled out the club and handed it over.Ñøv€l-B1n was the first platform to present this chapter.

It was studded with beads along the haft. Up close, it looked more like a mace than a simple stone headed club. At the head, however, was a large rock shaped to be a proper weapon, and held in place by thick cords of rope.

My fingers ran over the rope and stone head, feeling the weapons contours. It had a slight pulsing that came from the wood, and I could tell it was made from something rarer than the common trees in the area.

Whats it made of, father?

Your grandfather told me he found this log among the remains of a Sweet Palm Tree that had been burned in a forest fire when he was a child. At first, he used it as a walking staff. But when I became a guard instead of a drudge foreman like he was, he had it turned into a club for me. Paid a decent amount of coin to have it done, too.

I stared at it for a long moment, as I ran my hands over the grain in the wood and stone. A few things came to mind, ways I might improve it. My experiments with the oil had given me some insight into how mana could be infused into things like this. And, well, I had a lot of time on my hands that morning to think.

I think I can make it better. Can I? I felt a slight call of the magical wood in my hands. There was room, for lack of a better word, for more magic inside it. At least thats what it felt like to me.

If you think you can do it without breaking it, then I trust you. Just dont tell your mother, or well both be in trouble. He glared at me, despite his words, and I took a deep, steadying breath.

Then, I infused the wood with mana.

I started at the base, simply adding more mana into it than had been there before. The wood slowly grew denser, harder, and heavier. As if the tree it had been made from was older than it had been. I dont know why I was given that impression, but I listened to my intuition when it came to magic.

It had served me well so far.

I let the magic travel up the shaft of the wood, up and into the metal studs. The metal received the magic like the iron had on the forge. It became more malleable. So much so that my fingers could shape the metal beads.

My fingers bled slightly as I pinched each of the metal studs into sharp points. For some reason, I got the impression that was what they had originally been. Wickedly sharp. But my fathers strength, the hardness of the weapons targets, coupled with the sheer weight of time, slowly eroded them into simple studs.

When the magic reached the stone head, things went a little differently.

The rock wouldnt absorb the mana. At all. It was a piece of hard river rock, smooth and shaped to be nearly a perfect sphere. I guessed it was made of granite, and adding mana to it was like trying to mix oil and water.

Not impossible, but extremely difficult.

When the rock finally accepted just a trickle of mana, it started vibrating. Then shaking, then rattling in its ties like something in a cage.

Duck! I yelled, as I stood up and tossed it into the trees away from anyone else. A moment later, the rock exploded into dozens of pieces of hardened and hot shrapnel.

When the sound of the explosion finished echoing in my ears a few heartbeats later, I went to investigate. My father stood over my shoulder, probably glaring down at me.

You, you took pieces of the other stone and put it in? Did that help somehow?

I shrugged. I have no idea what Im doing. Maybe. I just, well, I wanted to honor your last club. Im sorry, dad.

He shook his head and grinned. Its alright. Put it back on the club, then well head home.

I did as instructed. About ten minutes later, after several dozen failed attempts to coax the stone to morph around the wood, or the wood to grow around the stone, I had resorted to simple rope bindings.

Annoyed, I triple bound the two pieces together, and then covered the rope with a thick leather that I infused with mana. Though I had no idea why, or what effect it had on it. I was hoping it would give the leather greater durability. I was still somewhat flailing in the dark.

When I was done, I held it out for my father to take in. The quasi-circular head had small stone protrusions of granite, but was black as midnight and hard as steel. The studs were sharp and menacing looking, and the wood had hardened and become far denser.

He took it and admired it. Its heavier than it was before.

Is that a bad thing? I asked.

It was his turn to shrug. Not sure. Let me try something. Tomas went to the nearest tree, one that was maybe a year or two old and about as thick as I was. He pulled back the club like I would have a baseball bat. Then, with both hands, he brought the club over in a sideways swing directly through the middle of his target, every muscle in his body straining with the effort.

A sharp pop filled my ears, and wooden shrapnel filled the air. When the dust and wood cleared, the tree was missing a chunk of itself right out of the middle. Huh. Hits harder, thats for sure.

I stood there wide eyed, as my father held the thing one handed and went in for another swing. This one he put his entire body into stepping into the attack. The tree exploded, and I had to cover my eyes for fear of wood splinters.

Half a second later, powerful hands yanked me out of the way, and I felt tree branches scraping my head and arms as I was pulled through the air. When I was finally in the clear, I stood next to my father, who grinned down at me. Tree almost had you. Look.

The tree had fallen exactly where I had been standing. I expected to see it clinging to its base, having been cracked or pushed over. Nope, it was cleanly severed in half, the pieces of the trunk blown out and scattered as fragments of wood littered the ground everywhere in the path of my fathers brutal assault.

Holy

Watch your mouth, boy. But yes, your father is impressive. Tomas smirked. And this helped. A little. He hefted his new club with pride, then winced. Sends vibrations right through my arm, though. Dont know what to do about that.

I might have an idea. Can you do some swings, just in the air? He smiled and swung away, attacking invisible foes as I examined his grip. Tomas shadow-attacked in the air a couple of times. After a few swings, he stopped and had to work the muscles in his arm with his other hand.

Still numb? I asked, and he nodded. I have an idea, but itll take some experimenting. Might need to ask the dwarves or the smith for some help with it.

Im happy with her just as she is. Ill add a few more leather straps and improve my grip. Oswald was always saying I hold it wrong. Maybe theres a trick to it.

So, are you happy with it? For now? He looked at me and the sheer joy on his face was something Id rarely seen on any grown man. It was infectious.

Thats a silly question, son. I think I might be in love. Dont tell your mother.

I smiled. Tomas reminded me of so many of the army brats I had grown up with back on Earth. They were smart, hardworking, and loyal. But it didnt take much to entertain them.

Dad? He stopped ogling his new weapon and looked my way. Can I try?

He laughed and handed me the weapon. Try that one. He pointed me towards a small sapling barely thicker than my wrist and I had to fight from rolling my eyes.

I want to try something interesting.

My father, had he been paying attention, would have given me at the minimum a suspicious glare. But, giddy with the euphoria of a new and powerful weapon, he just wanted to share the joy.

Alright, mana through the arm, and down the weapon. I thought to myself as I prepared for the Empowered Strike. I hauled back and brought the weapon down one handed on the sapling. Half a heartbeat later it landed, and I learned the new Ability, Empowered Strike.

The world exploded with force as the sapling was pulverized into mulch. My arm stung a bit from the force of the blow, and for a moment I stood triumphant and giddy as my father had been. Until I realized my fingers werent stinging, they were numb.

And empty.

The weapon had shot off into the woods. My fingers, unable to grip it properly, had lost hold of it when the blast happened.

Damn it Landar. My father marched off in the direction of his new toy. His anger disappeared like vapor when he reemerged a few minutes later, cradling the magical club like a baby. Skipped off a boulder and embedded in a tree. Tomas patted me on the back almost hard enough to push me over. I cant tell you how proud I am, boy. And you didnt break my new weapon.

I was smiling all the way home.