*ZAP*

Faint coils of smoke rose into the air from the brick I was using as target practice, and I grinned as I felt the faintly pleasant sensation of electric current flowing through my body to gather in my aura. It was an interesting side effect of shooting lightning bolts continuously, and as far as I could tell it was relatively harmless - or, I should say, it was completely benign to me and only should only harm others if I wanted it to. The electric potential that we called 'voltage' back on Earth was a fascinating phenomenon: Even if my aura was charged up, touching the floor, a person, or a piece of metal (for example) wouldn't cause it to discharge if there was no potential between my aura and any 'path to ground' nearby.

Even lightning rods only worked as they did because lightning itself was caused by a massive potential difference between the earth (ground) and the sky (usually clouds). Therefore, a lightning rod provided a more straightforward route between the two (earth and sky), and the current (free electrons) followed that 'path' because it took less energy (as there was less resistance) than traveling through the air. My aura was more like a portable battery, completely isolated from both the earth and the sky, and connecting one end of a battery to a lightning rod would do exactly nothing... however, if you connect both ends of the battery-

*CRACK*

-I winced as a minor explosion broke the brick in half, jerking backward as pain abruptly began to radiate from my fingers as if they were struck by a hammer! I had simply walked up to the brick I had been using as target practice and extended my hand to touch it, expecting another zap as the current built up in my aura surged into the brick that had already tanked a few dozen bolts - and which, in this case, was the other end of the battery. I shook my wounded hand wildly as I gasped in shock and danced around in pain. I hadn't expected the bloody thing to explode!

I inspected my poor fingers after they had stopped hurting enough that I couldn't even focus. It hadn't been the electricity itself that had harmed me, but when the brick broke in half some of the shrapnel struck my hand and one of my fingernails was bent backward, dripping blood into the floor. My ears were also ringing, but it was hard to focus on that through the pain in my hand. There was a stinging sensation in my forehead as well, and it occurred to me that I was lucky none of the shrapnel had struck my eyes! Next order of business - safety glasses. (Any serious damage would have hopefully activated my [Weak Forcefield], but since 'brick shrapnel' wouldn't have much of an aura of its own I wasn't certain how effective it might have been at protecting my vulnerable eyes).

After checking around to make sure that nobody had come to investigate, I bandaged my finger with a torn rag after folding the bent nail back into place while gritting my teeth against the pain. My people healed quickly, and since infection apparently wasn't a concern I didn't have to be overly careful about cleaning the wound. Not that I didn't want to clean it properly, just that doing so would definitely draw a lot more attention since I would have to leave the Waresroom facility to get clean water... and if Mom caught wind of this it might set me back months.

Reviewing my progress while scrubbing the area of anything that might raise uncomfortable questions helped keep my mind off the pain. Initially, I had been attempting to keep the ion trail between my hand and the target perfectly straight, which caused it to shift or fall apart because the molecules in the air were constantly in motion. To make it even worse, all the ions had the same charge, therefore they tended to repel each other just like tiny magnets! Not that it was impossible to use that method, of course, but it required a lot more focus than should have been necessary, and any minor slip-up caused me to miss the target.

The solution I came up with after a few hours of practice was pretty simple: Mentally 'tag' the target, relax my focus, and allow the ion trail to float around and take whatever shape it wanted. This was probably the same effect that occurred when natural lightning struck, and could help explain why it was always so jagged and random looking. The only difficulties were that if I gave it too much time the ion trail would break apart completely, forcing me to start over again, and if the trail touched something more conductive than ionized air (like the armor and weapons stored in this room, for example) the [Minor Lightning Bolt] would pass through the new material before jumping back to the ion trail and striking the target. Not a huge deal, really, and it happened much too quickly to be seen by the naked eye, but the current would noticeably heat up whatever it passed through, so I was careful not to let it happen... after the first few dozen times. (But most of those were for testing purposes, dammit, so let's just blame it on science!)

Now my next step was to work on getting myself ready to add [Ion Shield], which would let me build a 'solid' wall of charged air around myself, thereby providing far more reliable protection than my current option. It was a lot more expensive than the lightning bolt itself, unfortunately, at least if I wanted it to be strong enough to make a difference against a real threat, and I didn't have nearly enough CP yet... However, many of the insights I had gained practicing with [Minor Lightning Bolt] were directly applicable to my understanding of [Ion Shield], and I was already making progress that, according to my estimations, had the potential to reduce the CP cost by more than thirty percent!

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Bells rang out, a clamor from the north end of the village warning us of an impending attack. The slow pattern of different tones signified that the attack was still a few hours out, meaning that the outpost had spotted them well in advance and had sent a runner to bring a warning, but the complexity of the alarm indicated that the danger was high and that everyone had to convene in the central fortress.

Jaws and I were at the Smithy with the other Blacksmiths (who froze momentarily when the bells started ringing and began the practiced routine of making the forge safe to leave unattended), the Apprentices (most of whom quickly took charge of the startled Assistants), and the Assistants (who seemed to be in charge of panicking and being scared). There were monthly drills, a tradition started hundreds of years ago by a clever Noble who had noticed that fires and minor (non-beast related) injuries were all too common during or after an attack, especially among businesses such as Smithies, Bakeries, and Potteries (to name a few). Most of the buildings were stone, but fires could still spread and make it even harder to repair everything after The Merrik saved us.

I didn’t know the routine well yet myself, and I had only experienced a single drill since I had only gained permission to work at the Smithy a few weeks ago. So I mostly stood out of the way, watching as solid metal covers were set in place over the fires and clamped into place. Any work-in-progress that was still hot enough to burn was set into a long metal box in a corner of the Smithy, and then everyone started to take up weapons (but not armor this time).

I had been taught that if the bells at all four corners of the village were ringing it always meant ‘prepare for battle’, but if it was just one set of bells it was a signal that we still had time to reach safety if we were quick, so slowing down to put armor on wasn't worth the risk. (The bells also signified the direction that the attack was coming from, but that was more for the guards than for the villagers themselves.)

We hurried through the streets, and immediately I noticed the atmosphere quite different than the last attack I had experienced. Everyone was moving quickly, and many were carrying weapons, but there was more chatter, and even some laughter coming from here and there.

“I hope I get a chance to skewer them beasts!” boasted one of the Apprentices. I rolled my eyes but didn’t say anything.

“More like get a chance to feed one,” retorted Carver, her tail waving behind her as she mimed exaggerated biting and chewing motions. She was my favorite among the apprentices, and I laughed along with the rest of the group

The first Apprentice (a boy of fifteen with blue-grey skin, and white feathers instead of hair) frowned at her and opened his mouth to reply, but then quickly snapped it shut again when he saw the look she was giving him.

One of the Blacksmiths slapped him on the back, “Still upset about the Tournament, are we? Always next year, if we get that far,” the older (and much larger) man said in a conciliatory manner.

My father was silent, as usual, but in a way, I had to admit that I kinda agreed with the cocky Apprentice – I had never really tested out my powers, and at some point I would want to see how they measured up against the soldiers of House Flameward. The mysterious Celestial runic-cultivation-fractals that lived in my mind (or maybe in my imagination) had only gotten more powerful with time, drawing in ever-increasing flows of Qi (which seemed like a good name for 'universe energy') as they evolved. But I had only turned five a short while ago, and I still needed more time. Being a kid sucks!

After separating from the group we swung by the house to pick up Mother, who was waiting for us outside our home wearing leather armor, a sword-dagger combo strapped to her belt, and a backpack full of supplies. There was a big sack on the ground that probably contained my father's armor (plus anything else we might need), while his massive weapon and gigantic shield were leaning against the house (I was impressed she had managed to move them by herself, even if she hadn't gotten them very far). I noticed that the front door was latched open again, which reminded me of the last time I had seen this done.

“Dad, why do we latch the doors open again?” I asked as we made our way to join up with Mom. I already knew the answer, but I was nervous and wanted to hear his voice. Additionally, I often received new information (and sometimes entirely distinct answers), when I asked the same question at different times or of different people - not having access to libraries, or the internet, to look things up myself made quality research (cultural or otherwise) nearly impossible. (As an example, if you asked a half dozen people the question 'why do we wear pants' you might be surprised at the variety in the answers; 'because it's cold', 'to protect my skin', 'for modesty', 'I like the way they look', 'to block the sun', 'because society forces me to conform to its gender norms'... ahem. Anyway, all the answers might be equally true, but even a simple query can garner results that are vast in their complexity and scope.)

“The scent, Heller. Many beasts hunt by smell, and will destroy our homes thinking they are still occupied if we trap the scent in," my father replied.

“Brilliant question, Heller!” said Mother as she joined us. “It also helps confuse the beasts, mixing smells in the street so they can’t hunt down any stragglers so easily,” she added, giving me one of her beautiful smiles. “It’s been tradition for so long, I don’t even know where it started!”

I wasn’t sure if I agreed with the reasoning given - since many animals could easily discern the 'age' or freshness of a scent, if memory served - but then again, it was still another valuable piece of the puzzle. Our door hadn't been broken last time, but the few that had been left closed (likely due to the panic and subsequent rush to safety) had been destroyed beyond repair. And now, looking up and down the street, every door I could see was open (although few had a fancy latch like ours did) and most used a flat heavy stone to trap the door tight against the exterior wall of the house.