Excerpt From The Mad Scholar's Wall—

Over and over, the doors leading to the courtyard of death opened, letting hundreds and thousands die at one time. But it was only drops in a bucket for the beastman hoard.

Every time the doors rippled shut, the beasts would claw at the stone chipping off small pieces. No one was doing much, but the damage they collectively caused needed to be constantly mended by the knights' terra.

And beasts that they were, when the passage closed in front of their faces, blocking off their access to prey, they would go berserk. Leaping onto and then off of their brethren in futile attempts to reach the edge of the battlements. At least, that was the case at first.

Many of their brethren were killed in their attempts, and more were killed as the archers released volley after volley of arrows into their ranks outside the walls, but it did not matter to them.

No, the smell of blood and death permeating the air only fueled their rage. Drove them to press harder against the walls of the Gauntlet.

As time passed and the bodies mounted, more and more of the beastmen were clambering up onto a ramp of bodies thirty feet tall and leapt the last twenty, latching onto the battlement's edge.

And at that point, the pits beneath the courtyards were already full of bodies, and the beasts were clambering over their own dead to reach the next passage of the Gauntlet.

Thousands of beastmen lay dead inside and outside of the walls. Tens of thousands. But everyone could tell that it would not be enough.

We all came to the same conclusion; we needed a bigger fort.

**********

Poking my head over the grass, I looked around.

I couldn't see any blatant indication of the beastkin, but then again, if there wasn't a hoard marching out of the forest, I wouldn't see any signs of them.

Though I wasn't that concerned, we were still a couple miles from the forest's edge, and I figured that if there were any beastkin scouts, they would be there.

Falling into an easy gate, I resigned myself to traveling the rest of the way across the grasslands without any excitement.

I was not moving in formation with the trainees but circling around them slowly. And occasionally circling back to the group to walk with them for a bit before doing another lap.

There wasn't any real reason behind why I was making the laps. More than I just didn't want to put in the effort to move in formation with them.

And I guess it was good practice for them to work together and learn what they could from watching me move around. That sounds like a good reason, if anyone asks… I thought, mentally patting myself on the back for being a good leader.

As I returned from this loop to check on the squad, I slowed down to match their pace five feet from them, and I heard a few whispered words and the sounds of quick movements before a loud cough sounded.

Looking over, I saw the two men nod their heads and flick their wrists toward me while letting out a few grunts I couldn't make out.

Giving them a look of bewilderment as I raised my eyebrow, I waited for someone to speak up. It only caused them to increase their antics as they tried to get the other to ask me a question.

Finally, Kathren sighed and said, "They want to know what you think are the odds that we will find beastkin."

Though she framed it like she was asking for them to get this situation over with, I could tell she also wanted to know the answer.

I didn't need to think about the question long. "There are scouts in this forest. I have no doubt about that… But I don't believe we will meet them or a warband."

"Why?" I looked at the man who asked the question, not saying anything for a moment. His face was turning red at my look, and he started stammering, "Umm. I— I. I mean… Why do you think we won't meet them… Sir."

"I know what you meant," I said, waving off his embarrassment or fear that he angered me. "I was just thinking… And I don't see them confronting us because it won't do them any good. If we fight, we could win and track them back to their base. If we are killed, it would tell the legion something is here. And they will send more people. No win for them either way. So long as we don't find anything they don't want us to see, I doubt there will be a problem."

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"It doesn't mean we won't be attacked, though." Stated Kathren.

I nodded to her in acknowledgment. "Just because I don't believe they'll attack us doesn't mean they won't."

"And even if they do attack," said the man that hadn't talked yet, "We can wrap them in strands of force and crush them!" He even pumped his hand in the air with his last shouted words.

It took a second for the words to sink in, then I turned my head to look at the man joining the other's incredulous stares with my own skeptical one.

No one had said a word yet, but his shoulders were hunching, and he was collapsing in on himself. “Well… Uhh. You know… cause they don't have. Mental powers?" He stammered out, his voice getting quieter as he spoke.

"That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Maybe your parents had a reason for naming you, Jim." The other man, who I did not know the name of, said with a shake of his head.

Head snapping to the side, I looked at him with disbelief, "His name is Jim. Really?"

If it could happen, the guy hung his head lower, and I faintly heard him mumble, "Yes, Instructor, my name's Jim."

I heard Karthren stifle a snicker when he said his name, though I was pretty sure she already knew it. I could understand the urge. I mean, I felt it too, and I went by Green. But who names their kid Jim?

Shaking my head, I went back to doing what was important, doing my job. I mean, don't wanna feel guilty that someone died because I was lazy. Or distracted by a man named Jim. How would I enjoy my off time, then?

"It's a common misconception, actually." I suddenly said, drawing the group's attention back to me.

"What?" Asked Kathren.

"That we can use mental force strands to rip apart the beastkin. Every time legionaries go into combat against beastkin, someone tries it. They quickly learn that they are wrong, but by then, they are usually collapsed onto the ground in mental exhaustion as all of their mental energy was sucked away. Hmm," I hummed in thought, "you guys know why we can't use mental force strands against each other, right."

I looked at them, and none of them would meet my eyes, too embarrassed that they did not know the answer to my question.

It was not surprising that none of them knew the answer. Only elves who paid attention to their elders as children during their childhood village lessons and the wealthy who could afford to go to an academy would know. While it wasn't hidden knowledge or anything, the reasons mattered little. Most only bothered to know the fact that you couldn't squash someone with a mental strand. And some didn't even know that.

As we walked, I continued talking, "While everyone says that we cannot rip another person in half or compress their body to the size of a fist like we can with a three-foot patch of ground, that isn't really the case. It comes down to two things, willpower and mental energy reserves. The stronger the willpower of the one being attacked, the more energy it will require the attacker to overwhelm and smash them. And if you have strong willpower and a large reserve, it's impossible. Even those with only a small amount of willpower and mental energy are so draining on the attacker that it's not worth the effort. Besides, most people don't even have the raw power to get past the natural defenses mental energy gives. But you need to have some mental energy to have that defense. Meaning a deer or tree won't be able to resist our mental energy and thus could be smashed. So it's far easier to pick up a rock and mentally throw it at someone than try and squash them. While the Beastkin does not have mental energy, they are far stronger, faster, and more durable than they should be. It has long been believed that they have some other energy that is similar… and based on recent examples, that belief will be far more credible." I got lost in thought for a moment as I mentally went back to the beastkin's ability to throw around fire. In that light, it made a lot of sense…

Shaking off that line of thought, I focused on the moment again. Every step was taking me toward greater danger, and now was not the time to get lost in a thought experiment that I had no way to prove or disprove.

Looking back at the group, I found that only Kathren's eyes weren't glazed over at my explanation, but I could tell she wasn't wholly following me. "Hem!" I grunted, clearing my throat and snapping their attention back to me. "Anyway, to make a long technical answer short, beastkin have some kind of resistance to being squashed like bugs, but it is not quite as good as anyone's with mental energy would be. So if you feel the urge to show off your mental powers, pick up a rock and slam or throw it at them."

I saw Jim nod, taking my answer to heart.

Already turning back and planning on taking another trip to circle around them, I was stopped when Kathren spoke up.

"If we can't use a mental strand of force to kill someone, why can we use objects propelled by force." Turning back, I found that she had a genuine look of curiosity and was not simply asking the question because she thought it would get her on my good side.

"It's quite simple when you get right down to it," I said, deciding to answer her, "you're not using a mental strand to kill them." I held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest, signaling I wasn't done talking. "Everybody is resistant to foreign mental energy within them. The only real exception is healers, but even then, their energy can be resisted if one is of the mind to do so. So when foreign hostel mental energy comes into contact with a body, the mind instinctually lashes out, disrupting and dissipating the mental energy. So when a stick propelled by mental energy hits a body, the mental energy is dispelled, but the stick is still there. It is an object and will do what it was made to do."

"Ahh," Kathren said, a look of thought on her face.

I hoped what I said would help her and maybe the others in some way, but we had other things to worry about.

"What about mentalist then," asked Jim. "How would they get past our defenses and attack the minds?"

I turned to him, surprised that he had asked such a question, and I answered it instinctually. "They don't," I said. "they change their energy frequency to resonate with their victims. Then manipulate the victim's internal energy with external tendrils to relay what they desire. You can tell a good mentalist by how efficient they are."

They all had looks of consideration on their face but now wasn't the time. "Focus," I said, drawing and refocusing their attention again, "we're at the edge of the forest."

Crouching lower, I planned on using the grass as cover for as long as possible while I stalked forward.