Chương 110: Chapter 12: The Weight of Mana - Part I

Garrick POV The morning after Kaelen leaves for the southern woodland, I find myself wondering whether learning to use mana is supposed to be this frustrating. Elyrion has already much time teaching me how to sense it, how to distinguish the current within my own body from the countless threads surrounding me, and most importantly, how to stop treating that sensation as something I need to grasp before it slips away. I can now feel mana whenever I want, or rather, whenever I stop trying too hard to feel it.

What I still cannot do reliably is make it move where I want without disrupting everything else. That is where this morning's lesson begins. I stand beneath one of the Heartwoods with my eyes closed while Elyrion watches from several paces away. The Garden is already awake around us, though most of the others are busy with their own routines.

I can hear voices somewhere near the abandoned manor, the clatter of tools from one of the workers repairing a section of the old wall, and the occasional laughter of children moving between the flowerbeds. Beneath all of it lies the quieter presence I have become accustomed to since Communion, the steady pulse of the Grove flowing through the soil and roots around me. I try to separate myself from it. My own mana is there, faint but unmistakable, gathered somewhere beneath my chest.

I let myself become aware of it without reaching for it, just as Elyrion taught me.

"Now move it." His voice comes quietly from behind me. I allow the warmth to spread through my chest and attempt to guide it toward my right arm. For a moment, it works. The sensation moves through me, slow and steady, following the channels that Communion has opened within my body. It reaches my shoulder and begins moving down my arm before I become too conscious of what is happening and instinctively try to accelerate it. The flow collapses. I open my eyes. Elyrion remains exactly where he was, "You forced it."

"I know."

"You knew before I said anything."

"I felt it."

"Then why did you do it?" I glance at him, "Because I wanted it to move faster." He considers that for a moment, "Why?" I have no immediate answer. Because I am a soldier. Because I am accustomed to training until my body obeys. Because when I give an order, I expect the men under me to act rather than hesitate. Because everything I have ever learned about becoming stronger has involved effort, repetition and pushing beyond whatever limit stood in front of me.

Instead, I simply shrug, "I'm used to making things happen." A faint smile touches Elyrion's face, "And mana isn't a thing you can order."

"I've noticed."

"You haven't." I raise an eyebrow, "If I hadn't noticed, I wouldn't be standing here."

"You've noticed that forcing it doesn't work." His expression becomes slightly more serious.

"That is different from understanding why." I let the words settle before looking toward my hands, "What am I supposed to do, then?"

"Allow it to move." I give him a skeptical look, "That's your answer?"

"For now." I close my eyes again. The warmth is still there. I let myself feel it without trying to direct it anywhere, and after a few breaths I become aware of something I had missed before. Mana isn't entirely still inside me when I leave it alone. There is already a natural movement to it, subtle enough that I had mistaken it for my own pulse during the first few attempts. I follow that movement. When it reaches my shoulder, I don't interfere. It continues down my arm. I let it.

The sensation reaches my elbow and begins spreading toward my wrist, and for once I don't try to hurry it along. I simply remain aware of where it is and where it is going, allowing the current to follow the path that seems most natural.

"Good," Elyrion says. I nearly lose it. I manage to hold the flow together, though, and keep my attention where it belongs. The mana reaches my hand. My fingers tingle. I open my eyes. A faint shimmer passes across my knuckles before disappearing. I stare at my hand.

"I did it."

"You allowed it." I look toward him, "Does it matter?"

"It matters considerably." There is no teasing in his voice this time. I close my hand slowly, feeling the last traces of mana settle beneath my skin. For the first time since Communion, I begin to understand that the difficulty isn't the amount of mana inside me. There is enough. I can feel that much now.

The difficulty is that my body has spent its entire life without having to accommodate something like this, and expecting it to behave as though it has decades of experience simply because the Grove has given me the ability is foolish. I look toward the Heartwood, "How long did it take you to learn this?" Elyrion is quiet for a moment, "Long enough that I no longer remember the beginning." I turn toward him, "That's not particularly encouraging."

"It wasn't intended to be." I laugh quietly. He looks toward the sword at my hip, "Your situation is also different from mine." If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"Because I'm human."

"Among other things." I look down at my hand, "So, I'm learning something my body was never prepared for."

"Exactly."

"And you're still expecting me to learn it."

"I wouldn't be teaching you if I didn't." There is something reassuring about the simplicity of the answer. I turn back toward the Heartwood and let the mana gather again. This time I don't try to move it immediately. I allow myself to become familiar with its presence, tracing the sensation as it circulates through me before gently encouraging it toward my arm. The current responds more readily than it did before, and although the movement remains slow, I manage to keep it together until it reaches my hand.

I maintain it. One breath, then another. The sensation begins to weaken. I let it fade rather than trying to force it back. When I open my eyes, Elyrion is watching me.

"Better." I smile, "I'll take that."

"You shouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because now we make it harder." I stare at him for a moment, "I was beginning to enjoy this."

"I noticed." He steps away from the Heartwood and gestures toward the open space farther across the Garden, "Walk." I follow him, "While maintaining the flow?"

"Yes." I start walking, keeping the mana moving through my arm as carefully as I can. The first few steps are easy enough, but the moment my attention shifts toward my footing, the current falters. I correct it before it disappears completely and continue. Elyrion walks beside me in silence. The Garden passes slowly around us while I concentrate on two things at once, something that should be simple after years of training but feels strangely difficult now.

I have spent most of my life learning how to divide my attention between a battlefield, my men and whatever threat stood in front of us. Yet mana demands a different kind of awareness. It doesn't simply require attention; it punishes me whenever I give it too much. I keep walking and the current remains. Eventually I draw my sword. The moment the blade clears the scabbard, the mana falters. I stop myself from forcing it back. Instead, I breathe and wait until the sensation settles again. Then I take another step.

The mana remains. I look toward Elyrion. He gives the faintest nod. I continue walking with the sword in my hand and the current moving steadily through my arm, and after sometime the two no longer feel like separate tasks. They feel like parts of the same movement. Elyrion watches me for several moments before finally speaking.

"Now we're getting somewhere." I glance at him, "That sounded almost like praise."

"Don't get cocky." I smile, "Of course, I am not." He draws his own sword, "Keep the mana moving." My smile disappears, "You're not going to attack me while I'm doing this, are you?" His expression remains perfectly calm, "Why would I make it easy?" I sigh and raise my sword. I have a feeling the morning is about to become considerably more difficult. Elyrion comes at me before I am ready.

I manage to keep the mana moving through my arm, but maintaining it becomes considerably harder the moment I have something else to think about. My attention shifts toward the elf as he closes the distance, and the current immediately begins to waver. I tighten my grip around my sword and force myself to settle, remembering what he has been telling me all morning. Don't force it, don't chase it. Let it move. Elyrion's sword comes toward my shoulder, and I raise my own blade to intercept it.

The impact travels through my arms, and the mana scatters before I can stop it. I recover quickly enough to avoid his second strike, turning my body aside while bringing my sword around toward his ribs, but he steps away before I can complete the attack.

"You lost it."

"I noticed."

"Again." He doesn't give me time to recover. I meet his next attack more carefully, keeping my attention divided between the movement of his sword and the faint current moving through my body. The two demands compete for my concentration, and when Elyrion changes the angle of his strike, I react too slowly. His blade slips past mine and touches my shoulder before withdrawing. I step back, "You're making a point."

"Several."

"Could you make fewer of them at once?"

"No." Despite myself, I smile. Then he attacks again. This time I don't try to direct the mana toward my sword or my arm. I let it remain where it is, allowing the current to continue moving naturally through my body while I focus on the fight. The difference is subtle, but I notice it almost immediately. My movements feel slightly lighter, my recovery a little quicker, and when I shift my weight to avoid Elyrion's blade, my legs respond with a strength that wasn't there before. I turn his sword aside.

Elyrion changes direction. I follow. Our blades meet again, and this time the impact doesn't scatter the mana. I almost lose concentration from surprise. Elyrion sees it.

"Don't think about it."

"I'm trying not to."

"Try harder." I suppress a laugh and continue moving. The exchange stretches longer than the previous ones. Elyrion remains faster and more precise than I can match, but for once I am not simply reacting to whatever he decides to do. I watch his shoulders, his feet and the subtle changes in his balance, just as he taught me yesterday, and when his weight shifts before a thrust, I move before the blade arrives. My sword catches his. I turn my wrist and push his blade away before stepping inside his reach.

For a heartbeat, I have the opening. I strike. Elyrion twists aside, and my blade passes close enough to catch the edge of his cloak before he turns the movement into a counterattack. I bring my sword up in time to stop him, but the impact forces me backward. My boots dig into the earth. The mana within my body surges. I feel it moving through my arm just as I bring my sword around again, and this time I don't think about directing it. I simply allow the movement to happen. My next strike carries more weight.

Elyrion blocks it. The impact makes him take a step back. I freeze, so does he. For the first time since we began training, I see something change in his expression. The mana fades from my arm a moment later, leaving behind a faint ache that travels from my shoulder to my fingertips. I lower my sword.

"Did I..."

"You did." I look toward the ground between us, "I didn't even try."

"That's why it worked." I look back at him. Elyrion lowers his sword, "Your body moved before your thoughts could interfere." I flex my fingers, trying to understand the sensation that remains. It wasn't stronger simply because I had pushed more mana into the movement. The difference had been almost effortless, as though the mana had simply followed the motion instead of being commanded to create it.

"Can I do it again?"

"Probably not." I stare at him. He gives me a faint smile, "Not yet." I laugh quietly, "You're enjoying this."

"A little." I shake my head and look toward the Grove. The Heartwoods stand quietly around us, their branches moving gently in the morning breeze. Somewhere beyond them, I can hear voices from the Garden, the ordinary sounds of people going about their day. Everything looks exactly as it did when we began. Yet something inside me feels different. Yesterday, mana was something I could sense. This morning, I learned to move it. And for one brief moment, during that exchange, it moved with me.

Elyrion walks toward the edge of our little practice ground and sheaths his sword. I follow, though my arms are beginning to feel heavier with every step.

"That's enough for today." I glance at him, "Already?"

"You can barely keep your sword level." I look down. He's right. The exhaustion has crept up on me so gradually that I hadn't noticed it until now. My shoulders ache, my legs feel heavier than they should, and the faint warmth beneath my chest has become little more than a dull pulse. I slide my sword back into its scabbard.

"So that's the first lesson?" Elyrion looks toward me, "No."

"Then what was it?" He considers the question before answering, "Learning where your strength comes from." I wait for more. He doesn't offer any. I sigh, "You're remarkably fond of leaving people with incomplete answers."

"Perhaps because complete answers make people stop asking questions." I can't argue with that. We begin walking back toward the Heartwoods. After a few steps, I glance at my hand again. I can still feel the mana, faint and unsteady, but no longer entirely foreign. I close my fingers around nothing and let the sensation remain where it is. I don't try to command it. I don't try to force it. For now, I simply let it move.

And somewhere beneath the quiet branches of the Grove, I begin to understand that becoming a Groveknight is going to require considerably more than learning how to wield a sword.