Chapter 321: Dance and Ignition

The pair must have made for a strange sight in Greymoor’s early evening light.

The sun drifted lazily toward shadowed hills on the horizon, signalling day’s end for circling birds dotting the sky. Of course, there would be others replacing them soon enough.

Some birds loved the sun. Some loved the moon. But no matter the time of day or night, there always seemed to be birds circling the Generasian encampment.

Always seeming to watch those below.

Flames were stoked higher behind the encampment’s walls of earth and stone, sending trails of smoke toward the clouds. A dark streak was all that remained of the terrible explosion that had rocked the land, but while the last bit of smog faded, the researchers’ memories of the detonation grew more vivid.

Some contemplated it.

Some discussed it.

Yet one seemed not to think about it at all.

And he was the source of a peculiar sight.

Outside the walls, a muscular Thameish wizard and his golem danced by way of forceball light. Or, rather, the young wizard danced while the golem—and a number of people standing on the wall—watched.

Stranger still was the fact that the wizard was talking to his golem. Loudly.

“And…there!” Alex fell into the final stance of the Sword-and-Oar dance. “And that’s really all there is to it, Claygon. Well…actually there’s more to it, but those are all the steps, positions and stances. We’ll practise them together after I finish trying out a spell and the new mana regeneration technique. Okay?”

He half-hoped Claygon would nod along with him, but no such luck.

“But while you’re waiting for me to finish…I’ve got a surprise for you.” Alex picked up a bag leaning against the wall and fished out a set of three, large, leather bound books. Each hardcover was embossed with a maze that a child might trace with their small fingers. Above each labyrinth read the words: Simple Puzzles for Clever Children, Volume 1, 2 & 3 by Daedcarus.

“Eh? Eh? Not bad, eh?” he said, conjuring three forcedisks and nine Wizard’s Hands. “Alrighty, Claygon.” He set each book on a disk, flipping the covers open to page one. “I’d like you to look these over, okay? Wizard’s Hands’ll hold the books and turn the pages for you, so all you have to do is keep looking at the different puzzles and studying them. You’ll thank me later, trust me.”

Nodding to Claygon, he willed each of the glowing disks to rise, angling them toward the golem; each book hovered at eye-level giving him a comfortable position to read from. To keep the books in place, Alex used one Wizard’s Hand per book to hold it steady.

Claygon never visually acknowledged Alex’s words, but he did focus on the puzzle books, turning his head toward each page whenever one was changed.

Alex chuckled. “Good job, buddy. Good job. Hopefully, that’ll give your mind something to concentrate on. Something to chew through while it’s forming.”

Glancing up at the encampment wall, he noted the growing crowd of spectators and gave them a wave. “They probably think I’m crazy because of the stuff I’m doing with you, Claygon, but…I don’t mind. You’re worth it.”

His smile faded. “And, you’re special, you know. Very special.”

From the deepest corners of his mind a memory so faded it was like a phantom brushing by, surfaced: a sunlit day beneath a big tree, a picnic with his mother long before Selina was born, and faded words:

“You’re my special little boy, Alex. Because Uldar gave you to me.”

Alex smiled, happy to pass those words on. “You’re special to me, Claygon, for a lot of reasons. Because Selina and I made you. Because you’ve been through a lot with us. Those are the most important reasons.”

Fwp. Fwp. Fwp.

Pages turned. Claygon scanned them closely.

“But, I want you to understand…there’s more to it than that. I’m not only being caring when I say you’re not like any other golem in the world. Your core’s actually made of some really special stuff. It makes you stronger than other golems. It’s probably what’s making your mind grow too…or maybe that part’s all you. Nobody really knows, and that’s what makes you even more special. You’re a mystery my friend. So…what Toraka Shale said…”

Alex paused, trying to figure how best to phrase what he wanted to tell him. “…she has no idea how remarkable you really are. Not to me. Not to Selina. Not to all of our friends. And she definitely doesn’t understand what’s inside you.” He looked up at the setting sun then tapped Claygon’s chest right where his golem core was. “That’s hope burning in you, you know? That’s hope and promise that’s been built from past darkness for a brighter future. As your mind’s developing, I want you to remember that. Especially, if an explosion or anything like what happened this morning gets me. Or…like age; you’re basically immortal as far as I can tell, and unless I find something life-changing with time, I probably won’t live forever. I’ll live as long as I can, but the point is, I might not be around one day. And I want you to be able to go on if something happens to me.”

There was no response from Claygon: he just continued scanning the pages. But that was alright, all that mattered was that the mind forming inside of him heard all of this as it was developing. In the summer, Professor Salinger had taught the class that a plant only grows properly if it’s fed, sunned, and watered.

The same would be true for Claygon’s growing mind, and Alex promised himself that he’d give him what he needed to help him thrive.

“Alright you think about that and enjoy your books,” the young wizard said, turning his attention from Claygon to; Currents: A Guide to Mid-Level Mana Regeneration. “Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!” The sneezing began. He’d tried blowing all the dust away, but enough still clung to the book, sending him into a sneezing fit every time he opened it. Upper year mana manipulation courses weren’t all that popular, leaving books on the subject mosty languishing on the shelves. “Achoo! Another sneeze. “Good health to ya,” Rip’s voice called from atop the wall. “Thanks,” Alex called back, stifling another sneeze. He’d already begun reading it on his sky-gondola rides between campus, and Shale’s workshop, speed-reading through the dry introductory parts, and marking passages recommended by Professor Val’Rok.

Flipping to the first marked section, he read a passage on the mana regeneration technique detailed there:

What separates elementary and advanced mana manipulation is how one interacts with one’s mana pool. Archwizard Hsekiu was the first to discover higher level mana regeneration, inspired by watching an electric current pass through his copper fork—by way of an accident involving a magical tool—that caused the chunk of pork he supped upon to flex as though alive. Being a practised researcher, he carefully observed the phenomenon, then replicated it with lightning magic.

He examined the pork using an array of lenses predating modern picoscopes while running electricity through the meat and noting how it caused muscle fibres to be stimulated, contracting all at once. Inspired—and already a practised mana manipulation specialist—he theorised that mana could be used to run a ‘current’ through the edges of one’s own mana pool, creating a stimulus far more powerful and comprehensive than the more ‘massage based’ techniques that he had been previously using.

After numerous years of trial, error and self-experimentation—not to mention a few self-inflicted injuries along the way—Hsekiu succeeded in creating a new technique that proved far more useful to those wizards capable of wielding fourth-tier or fifth-tier spells and above.

To this day, Hsekiu’s mana regeneration technique remains the most powerful one available to modern wizards, at least among techniques that allow the mana pool to remain unaugmented. All higher level techniques require active augmentation or alteration to one’s mana pool, which comes with its own dangers. Such techniques are not discussed in this book.

While Alex was curious about what these ‘augmentations or alterations’ were, he kept focused on the description of Hsekiu’s technique. But, before the book went into how the process worked, it presented several warnings cautioning that the technique should never be attempted by one inexperienced with specialised mana manipulation and regeneration skills:

Make no mistake. If you are reading this because you have mastered fourth-tier spells and are ready to break through to fifth-tier magic but you have never before engaged in the art of mana manipulation, then I must ask you to put this book down, dear reader. Too many wizards mistake high skill in spellcraft for equivalent skill in mana manipulation. They are wrong. Going into Hsekiu’s technique without proper preparation has led to mana reversals, explosions of the mana pool, strokes, heart attacks, brain destruction, and even death. If you cannot master Ito’s Spiral, then you do not have the precision necessary for the technique. To properly perform Hsekiu’s technique, a wizard must be able to split their mana into hundreds of thousands of streams, and then control each as well as they might control their own fingers. Perhaps even better.

Ito’s spiral mastered? Check.

If you have the prerequisite skills and are simply adventuresome, then read ahead. Hsekiu’s technique works as follows.

What came after was a series of long, complex paragraphs that the author had buried in as much technical jargon as he could. At times, it felt like he’d switched to another language. Still, Alex had enough learning behind him to translate the terminology and break down the main points. He made detailed notes.

There are uncountable fibres that make up one’s mana pool. Too many for any mortal wizard to connect to all of them directly.The fibres of a mana pool all run in a single direction.Like a piece of copper wire conducting electricity, these fibres can conduct mana.This is done by breaking your mana into hundreds of thousands of streams, then connecting them to a row of fibres on one side of your mana pool’s edge. These are called the entrance connections.You then connect your mana to another row of fibres on the opposite side of your mana pool. These are called the exit connections.You pour your mana into the entrance connections, run it through the fibres then pull it back into the centre of your pool through the exit connections. This creates a current…which is probably why the book is named ‘currents’.Like muscle fibres, the edges of a mana pool grow hyper-stimulated through that current.When hyper-stimulated, they’ll produce mana at an extraordinarily quick rate.The level of mana used must be just right, or you’ll completely destroy your mana pool.

Alex tapped his pen on the page, looking for anything he might’ve missed in his notes. He even called on the Mark, letting it focus on the task of ‘copying information’, but it didn’t guide him to any overlooked details.

He took a deep breath, focusing his mind.

“Alright.” Sinking down on the grass, crossing his legs and setting his hands on his knees, he began.

A deep breath steadied him, then, he concentrated on his senses. First came the scent of grass. Then he noticed the sun on the horizon. His skin felt cool currents of fall air. His ears—

Fwp. Fwp. Fwp.

—heard the pages of Claygon’s puzzle books flipping behind him.

He was centred.

“Let’s begin,” he spoke softly, closing his eyes.

Falling deeper into himself, Alex slowly closed his mind to all distractions. Then he activated the Mark, intent only on manipulating mana. Memories of Ito’s Spiral came back, guiding his consciousness as it sank deeper into his spirit. Soon, his senses receded from his mind like the world was falling away, replaced by a single, powerful sensation.

Mana.

It thrummed within, a deep pool of power with plenty to spare despite how much he’d drained earlier that day casting mana to life to help the injured. If he succeeded with the technique, his mana pool would overflow with energy.

Carefully, Alex reached out to the edges of his mana pool, focusing his senses. The same way he’d noticed the tiny pathways in Ito’s Spiral, he felt the minute fibres that made up the side of his pool. He’d withdraw from the edge for a whisper, then touch it again, repeatedly building more memories of successes for the Mark. The longer he focused, the more it guided him in his task.

The more it guided him, the more defined and clear the fibres became in his senses.

‘Wow!’

What once felt like a single, unbroken surface, now felt textured and full of life. ‘Enjoy the moment, soak it in.’ He thought, awestruck. Not too many wizards honed their senses to the point where they could feel their own mana so strongly.

Waves of power crashed over his senses.

He let himself feel the electric texture of his mana pool’s fibres, he let it steep for a bit.

Then, it was time to get to work.

Breaking his mana into hundreds of thousands of streams, Alex searched out a row of fibres and connected the streams to the fibres.

‘Entrance connections created.’

He then reached out to the opposite side of his mana pool and connected the mana streams to fibres.

‘Exit connections created.’

With a long exhale, he began pouring his mana into the entrance connections. Fibres twitched.

And then he felt it.

A flow of power.

An ignition.