Chapter 42: Testing The Limits
“After some discussion, we’ve decided…” I hold my hand up for a handshake. “Welcome to the party, Heather.”
Heather smiles and shakes my hand, the tension bleeding out of her. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
I smile in return. I don’t know if I’ve seen her smile before. It might be a sign that she’s starting to heal. “Don’t worry about it.”
“So…” She asks tentatively, “What sort of jobs will I need to do around the camp?”
“Only what you’re comfortable with.” I reply. “Everyone here appreciates the difficulty of what you’ve gone through. If you don’t feel that you’re able to help just yet, then that’s okay. Which reminds me – how are you doing right now?”
Her smile grows pained, and I fear that I’ve said the wrong thing. “I… It just hurts. I can’t stop thinking about everything we did together as children, how good all those times were, but even those memories hurt because of how much he changed, what he did. Sometimes I feel like I can’t trust men ever again, but then I remember my father, and you, and I know not everyone is like that, but… It’s still so hard to trust people.”
“It takes time to heal. You’ll get through this eventually, don’t worry.” I reassure her. “In the meantime, don’t feel obliged to do things. Whenever you’re ready.”
Heather shakes her head. “No, I think I need to help. To be doing things. I can’t just sit and cry to myself every day.”
“Well, if you want to help out, there’s always something that needs doing. But that can wait for tomorrow.” I say. “It’s too late for talk about this.”
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“Hunting is a constant need, of course. We always need fresh meat.” I explain. “Any greens you might find, wild vegetables, herbs, edible plants and the like, those are good as well. And if the stockpile happens to be getting low, you can always collect some branches and the like for the fire. Well, outside of camp it’s best to move in a group, unless you aren’t going far.”
“Inside of camp, there’s cooking, watch – speaking of which, we’ll have to build a ramp up to the watchtower or something. You can’t climb ladders, right? – weapon and armour maintenance, although we mostly take care of our own weapons, and the twins take care of minor armour repairs.” I continue. “Our clothing need repairs every now and again, too, and if I’m perfectly honest, none of us are great at that. Then there are general heavy lifting jobs: construction, lugging around logs, chopping down trees, that sort of thing.”
“Outside of those, you can train or relax however you like.” I finish. “What sort of things are you good at out of those?”
“Well, I think I still remember which plants you can eat from what my father taught me when I was younger… And I think I might enjoy finally being able to go out and hunt. I’m alright at sewing, it was… one of the things the tribe thought ‘suitable’ for a woman.” Heather grimaces. “I can carry a lot, centaurs are quite strong.”
I nod in understanding. “Should be good having another helping hand around camp. Especially when one of mine is injured.”
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With my arm as it is, I spend a lot of time in camp. Some of it I spend keeping watch, twice as often as usual, trying to be of some use while I recuperate. I walk around the perimeter of camp a few times a day, not wanting my body to stagnate, but also not wanting to overtax it while my body heals. Other times I just spend sitting and relaxing, watching as the others begin constructing a building for Heather or thinking to myself.
The rest of the time I spend practicing magic. It occurs to me with recent events that my control over magic is quite adequate. For now, at least, I don’t need to spend too much time on it. Rather, I’m more interested in finding my limits. How much I can compress earth mana, how hot a fire I can make, how far I can send mana before I lose control.
Reaching out with my unbroken left arm, I release a huge cloud of earth mana, easily as large as our little cabin, and start compressing it. From a cloud the size of the cabin to a ball of earth the height of a person, to a ball of stone the size of a basketball, to a ball of hard rock the size of a volleyball… Three quarters the size of a volleyball… Half… At just over a quarter the size of a volleyball, I’m struggling heavily to increase the current density, so I gradually ease it back up to just under half the size of a volleyball, where I feel it isn’t much of a strain to reach the density.
So, this is my practical limit. If I really try, I can probably compact it even smaller than I did just before… But then I would run the risk of it slipping from my control and, perhaps, violently shattering. Explosive shattering… If I could control that, or rather, just ensure that it goes in one direction, that could be a deadly weapon. Another time, maybe. I would want a wall in between me and it when I test that. Or maybe a boulder.
That train of thought filed away for now, my attention is drawn back to the sphere of stone resting in my hand. It’s much heavier than it appears, feeling as if I’m holding a small boulder in my hand rather than something a few sizes up from a baseball. I manipulate its form, changing its shape into that of a sword. As it turns out, I have too much material to work with, so I have to split off a fair amount to maintain the balance of the weapon. It trembles ever so slightly in my hand as I shape it, the combined effort of molding the shape while ensuring the density doesn’t decrease pushing the task back towards the limits of my concentration… But only just. Sharpening the edge with a thought, I look around for something to test it on.
I find a stick and use the sword to shave pieces off with relative ease, albeit awkwardly due to the size of the weapon - this is not what swords were designed for. The blade isn’t dulled at all. When I swing the blade at a log, it leaves a deep notch. But when I swing it at a boulder, the blade snaps, sending a few shards flying.
Too brittle to use as a sword, I guess. Just too much force on too thin an area. I doubt I’ll be able to use this as an actual weapon, but maybe if I make it thicker I could use it as a shield. Then again, I probably can’t do that. It uses way too much mana. A shield at that level of compression would probably take my entire mana pool. But maybe if I’m disarmed I could use it as a temporary weapon, or perhaps as a small hardened plate to precisely block a ranged attack. I reckon if I had a plate like that in between me and that magus’ spell, it wouldn’t have broken my arm. Course, there’s still the matter of creating it and getting it in place before the projectile hits - no simple matter - but it’s a possibility.
Another thing I could do is encase the head of my hammer with it. If I did that, the weight of the hammerhead would increase drastically. It would become very, very difficult to wield as I normally would, but at the same time, each landed hit would become much more powerful. If I time it well, that could be a deciding blow. It would also allow me to change the striking surface of my hammer as needed: flat, round, bladed, spiked… There would also be the added bonus of reducing damage to the hammerhead itself. I’ll have to test that out, too, when I can actually swing my hammer again.
Figuring that I’m done with testing for now, I relinquish my control over the earth mana. Intruigingly, the broken weapon doesn’t dissipate as fast as I am used to - while at a clearly visible rate, it is considerably slower than the near-instantaneous disappearance that I’ve seen before. It seems that this speed might just decrease depending on how concentrated the mana is. I can’t really think of any way this effect might help me, but maybe in the future.
Now I have to wait until my mana replenishes before I do any more testing.
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Fire mana is different from earth mana. Notably, it isn’t solid. You can’t coalesce fire mana to form an object. You can form a shape, maybe, but not a physical object that you can interact with. Secondly, fire mana is much more short-lived than earth mana. Fire mana is literally burning itself to produce the heat it gives off. Theoretically, so long as you kept concentration, you could keep earth mana in one place forever. Fire mana will be gone long before then, burnt out.
Of course, that isn’t to say creating a compressed area of fire mana is of no effect. With the same amount of mana, a less dense ‘cloud’ of fire mana would produce relatively low heat over a large area. A more dense ‘ball’ of fire mana will produce relatively high heat over a small area. There are other factors to take into account, as well. You can control the burn duration of fire mana. You can make a fire that burns low and slow, or a fire that burns quick and hot. The faster you burn it, the hotter it’ll be.
Does that mean you could create an infinitely hot fire by burning through fire mana instantly? I don’t think that’s how it works. And even if it was, it’s not that simple. Just like compressing mana, changing the burn rate of fire mana takes concentration. And that goes either way. There’s like a default middling burn rate, and increasing or decreasing that gets progressively more difficult the further away from that default you go.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Anyway, the result of this is that if you want to maintain a high temperature fire, you’ll either have to have to produce a dense area of slow burning fire mana or constantly provide mana to an area of fast burning fire mana. Either way is going to take a lot of mana.
But for combat what I generally want is a short burst of extremely high-temperature fire. It’s easy enough to create something similar to a fireball, just make an area of slow burning fire mana, move it towards your enemy - since fire mana has nowhere near the same weight as earth mana, this is much lighter on mana consumption - then make it burn very quickly once it reaches them. At shorter range, it’s also simple to just spew a jet of fast burning fire mana it them.
So how hot a fire can I make? I suppose it depends how much mana I’m willing to use at once. I pick up a thin stick and, with a bit of fire mana, cause it to catch fire. Not too difficult. Then I become slightly stumped. I’m not sure what temperatures different materials burn at, and what I might move on to from wood to test how hot the fire is. So I figure, what the heck, and fetch a knife from the storage cabin. It’s one of the ones from that group of dwarves. Knives don’t take up much space or weigh much, so we brought quite a few of them back, almost a dozen. Never know when you might need a knife.
They’re steel, although I wouldn’t have a clue as to the quality or carbon content. Leaving the cabin, I set a magical fire under the blade. I go with the tactic of compressing lots of fire mana into the area at a slightly quicker than average burn rate, if only because I’m more used to compressing mana. The knife quickly gains a dull red glow which increases in intensity over the next few seconds, shifting to an orange glow, then yellow, until it brightens to an almost white shine.
I tilt the blade slightly downwards, and a glowing droplet falls from the tip of the blade, sizzling as it hits the grass. More drops quickly fall, with increased size and frequency until finally, I stop fuelling the fire with more mana. The knife cools, or at least, what’s left of it does. There’s not much there anymore. Stamping at the few flickering flames on the ground before me to put them out, I consider what I’d done. I melted steel. That’s a considerably hot flame.
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I check how far I can send mana before I lose control with a small ball of pure mana, just moving away from me from where I am in the watchtower. It’s hard to get an accurate grasp on distance, especially when I can hardly see the mana when it gets far enough. I figure it goes maybe a few hundred meters before I lose control and it dissipates, though.
What does all this tell me? Well, it seems that my magic is a lot more powerful than I thought. Again.
At about this point, Xiltroth climbs up the ladder. “Time to switch. How’s the arm?”
“Not bad.” I reply, shrugging. “It’s only really annoying when I forget it’s broken and try to use it for a moment.”
Xiltroth nods lightly. “Noticed you practicing magic. Anything new?”
“Hard to tell exactly until my arm heals up, but I’ve been testing the limits of my magic.” I reply. “Some surprises. I managed to melt the blade of a dagger.”
Xiltroth’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “That’s… A little frightening, really. Wish I could do something like that.”
“You know, I wonder about that sometimes.” I muse, frowning. “I mean, you hear stories about warriors that fought on equal terms with magi, long ago. People who could catch arrows and shatter walls.”
“It sounds nice, but they’re just stories.” Xiltroth shrugs. “People born with the ability to control elemental mana are just naturally more powerful, that’s all there is to it.”
Scratching my head, I say, “I would think the same, but… I saw a man once. He moved like lightning, no magic involved. And I can’t help but think to myself, even if I trained the rest of my life, could I do that? I don’t think I could.”
Xiltroth nods pensively.
“We’re strong, Xiltroth. Stronger than most people. And you’re fast on your feet, when you need to be. Do you reckon you could outrun an arrow?” I ask.
“Of course not. I’m fast, but that’s ridiculous.” Xiltroth replies.
“How about after another ten years of training? Twenty?” I ask again.
“I doubt it.” He shrugs again.
I nod. “The man I saw moved at least that fast, probably faster. We train hard, and I would say all of us are talented. But we still can’t do what he did. There has to be some method, some technique that he knows that we don’t. Something that used to be commonplace, but isn’t anymore.”
“If you put it like that, it sounds plausible.” Xiltroth muses. “But why do you think it used to be commonplace?”
I look to the sky, thinking. “If I had to name a particular reason…” I say slowly. “It would probably be Tuig, that insanely fast plant-thing. It mentioned that people had become boring in the last millennia. From its personality and ability, I doubt it was stuck in the valley all that time. It probably went all around the place, looking for people to race. I would think it odder if nobody raced it, what with the temptation of immortality. If it was racing just as much as it used to, then the only reason for it thinking people had become boring is that people couldn’t go as fast as they used to.”
“That does make some sense.” Xiltroth nods. “I wonder… The gnome town has records from that long ago. Maybe they would have something about that technique?”
“Could do.” I agree, nodding slightly. “Wouldn’t hurt to check next time we head that way.”
We stand in silence for a while, leaning on the railing as we look into the distance. Normally, I would head down, but I don’t really have anything better to do.
“I just remembered.” I exclaim, furrowing my brows. “While I was talking with Ren, he mentioned something about orc tribes to the south-east.”
“That’s roughly where we are.” Xiltroth says, frowning. “You’re saying there could be orcs living not too far away? We’ll need to look into that.”
“Definitely.” I agree, turning and walking to the opposite side of the watchtower, squinting into the distance as if it might help me see something that none of us had noticed since we got here. It doesn’t. “Their information on the outside world is nearly three centuries old, but large groups of people don’t move unless there’s a solid reason to. There’s a fair chance that they’re still there, wherever there is.”
“Heather might know. Her tribe roamed, didn’t they?” Xiltroth notes.
“She might.” I blink in surprise. “Suppose I’ll ask. Well, nice talking to you.”
I climb down the ladder and go looking for her. She’s about where I expected her to be, practicing archery. Waiting until she has finished firing and is returning from collecting her arrows, I approach. “How’s it going?” I ask.
“Slower than I would like.” She shakes her head. “When I was young, I could hit animals as they ran, most of the time. Now, I have difficulty hitting the same spot on a mound of dirt. It’s frustrating.”
“You’ve done it before, you can do it again. It’s just a matter of practicing until you can shake the rust off.” I reply optimistically.
“I hadn’t expected that it would take so long, is all.” Heather sighs. “But enough of that, did you need me for something?”
“I was wondering if, in your travels, you had ever come across an orc tribe anywhere near here.” I ask.
“Tribe? It’s more a city, about a day’s travel east across the river.” Heather replies curiously. “Why, are we planning on heading there?”
“We could be, at some point. Probably only after my arm’s healed, though.” I say pensively. “What’s this orc city like?”
“Friendly, for the most part. In my father’s time, we used to trade there if we were lacking in food or other supplies.” Heather replies, thinking. “From what I can remember, they were rowdy, but not too aggressive. And very proud of their city. I think the… Last chief… Of our tribe didn’t like being around an army stronger than his. He always said we don’t need more supplies, but looking back, he was lying.”
“That’s good to know. When Ren said there were orc tribes near here, I was worried that we’d have to worry about raiding parties or something.” I sigh in relief.
“Why would Ren think it was a tribe?” Heather asks.
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Right, sorry, I forgot you aren’t familiar with the gnome town. All the passages into that valley were blocked until just not too long ago, when we opened one by accident. Before that it had been… I think it was somewhere around two hundred and fifty years ago that they last had contact with the outside world.”
“Ah, that makes more sense.” Heather nods.
I exhale slowly. “So much happening lately. Think I might just head to bed. Thanks for easing my worries about the orcs.”
Heather nods, turning back towards the dirt mound and drawing an arrow.
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I’ve been thinking recently about creation. I’ll probably do it at some point, creating a new world, whether out of curiosity or boredom. But as its god, how would I interact with this world? To be a god is to see all, know all. So long as my people have the ability to choose, there will inevitably be people who choose poorly. People who choose to harm others, themselves, the world, for endless reasons and with endless methods.
Should I punish every one of these harmful choices? But then, would it not be as if they had no choice in the first place? That is, if the punishment is too harsh – say, death. But again, if the punishment was too light, then people would just ignore it. And wouldn’t that be unfair, if someone who made a poor but not too harmful choice was punished similarly to someone who made a terrible choice? Then, what of punishments relative in harshness to the severity of the harmful choice? It could work, I suppose.
I would have to work out the punishment for every single crime, or in more basic terms, a detailed set of laws. That would take time, but I have plenty of that. Then again, the circumstances around every ‘crime’ would be different, and even the same crimes might warrant different punishments. I would have to judge each crime individually, and if I’m doing that, it may as well be my full-time job until the world is destroyed. And in the end, I’m not perfect. My judgements could be flawed, inaccurate, and my punishments unjustified.
If I were to create or delegate from amongst the people judges to do the work for me, well, that sounds like less effective work with extra steps.
Looking at it from the opposite end, what if I were to do nothing, and let the people do as they pleased? Many people would argue that having the ability to prevent a crime and not doing so makes you partially liable for the crime yourself. By that argument, I would be liable for the collective crimes of the entire peoples I created. Other people would argue that restricting a person’s ability to choose freely is a crime. Apply both those arguments and I may as well be the devil himself, whatever I do. Huh.
And if I saved people from every trouble they fell into, they would become completely reliant on me. Not too bad in and of itself, but it would then mean people will expect me to save them and they won’t be careful or learn skills they should and then I’ll need to help them more… It all just sounds like a humongous pain in the neck.
Honestly, doing nothing sounds like the best option.