Path of Dragons Book 7: Chapter 16: Benefits of the Grove

Miguel hunched over his project, his face only a few inches away from the blade he’d spent the last couple of days carving. He didn’t have the patience of his uncle, and what little he did possess had long since worn thin. As much as he valued the end product, crafting just wasn’t sothing he enjoyed. So, instead of sinking into what Elijah had described as a crafting trance, Miguel had been fighting against his own nature since the very beginning.

Still, he was too stubborn to give up, especially when he was so close to completion. With that in mind, he pushed even closer, digging the tiny awl into the spine. For the weapon’s shape, he’d chosen a single-edged blade, much like Colt’s old katana. However, Miguel had decided to take inspiration from Chinese blades, rather than the iconic Japanese weapons.

Because of his mother’s obsession with blacksmithing, he’d been exposed to all sorts of weaponry. She’d even made him morize their nas and general characteristics, so he knew enough to categorize his new weapon as a liuyedao, or a willow-leaf saber. It was about forty inches long, with a curved blade, and a straight hilt, and it was just as suitable for mounted combat as it was for fighting on foot. Given his partnership with Trevor, that seed appropriate to him.

There were a few issues with carving the weapon from wood as opposed to forging it from tal, but in general, it was a much simpler process. Moreover, it had allowed for the integration of more details, especially on the blade itself. Elijah had been adamant that such embellishnts were vital to the overall quality, and he’d advised Miguel to just let the crafting process dictate what shape those adornnts took.

But Miguel felt nothing.

So, he’d decided to cover the spine with swirling lines that looked a little like the decoration that had adorned Sting in the Lord of the Rings movies. Due to his lacking skill, as well as the fact that he was working from years-old mories, Miguel was only partially successful. However, his Dexterity made up for many of his shortcomings, and he was mostly satisfied with the progression of the carving.

Finally, when his patience had finally been exhausted, he made one final notch, completing the design. A second later, he let out a relieved sigh and set the awl down, where it joined the other carving tools within the leather case. The set belonged to his uncle, and it contained a half-dozen tools Miguel thought were redundant. Elijah had tried to explain their individualized purposes, but to Miguel, a file was a file, and a knife was a knife. He’d only used three tools during the entire process. The rest remained in their little pockets.

He blinked up at the sky, surprised to see weak beams of morning sunlight through the trees. Across the grove, he saw his uncle sitting where he’d been for the past few days. A localized rainstorm stood over him, and even Miguel could sense the wild fluctuations of ethera and life that surrounded the Druid. Beside Elijah was a pool that, apparently, would beco a hot tub soti in the future. For now, the water was only lukewarm, so Miguel was a little skeptical about its future.

Not that it mattered. He didn’t so much care about leisurely soaking in a pool of warm water. He had too much to do.

But first, he needed to put the finishing touches on his new weapon. Otherwise, it would remain no more than an oddly shaped hunk of wood. So, he pushed himself to his feet and, sword in hand, crossed the grove. His intended destination was the beach, where he planned to build a fire where he could harden the blade. However, before he’d even left the grove, his uncle called out.

“You’re about to fire harden that thing, right?” Elijah asked when Miguel ca into range. Before he had a chance to answer, the Druid – who still hadn’t moved or opened his eyes – said, “Do it here. The fire will help nurture the Ash Lotus.”

Miguel looked around. Nerthus definitely wouldn’t approve of an open fla in his grove. Plus, the rainstorm might make it more difficult to keep a fire going. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I am. Do it. I’ll get you so wax to seal it when you’re done. And I think Nerthus might be able to help as well.”

Miguel didn’t really have an argunt to disobey his uncle’s suggestion – or order, really – so he dug a small pit near the pool, then headed outside the grove’s bounds to gather firewood. After spending a good deal of ti in the wilderness, he was an old hand at the onerous task, so he returned quickly and carefully piled the sticks inside the pit.

That was when his uncle surprised him once again by dragging what looked like an old laser pointer from his pack and using it to spark a fla.

“That’s so cool,” Miguel muttered. He couldn’t rember how many tis he’d struggled to get a fla going. In a dry environnt, it was simple enough, but when the weather didn’t cooperate, it was usually quite a pain. “Where did you get that?”

“There’s an Artificer in Argos. I’ll introduce you when we can spare the ti to visit.”

After that, Elijah went silent while Miguel tended the fla. Once it was ready, he placed the blade a few inches over the fire. The idea behind fla hardening was pretty simple, but it needed a steady hand at the proverbial tiller. If he did it right, the moisture in the blade would evaporate, and it would harden according to his intentions. But if he left it over the fla too long, the whole thing would char and be ruined.

Thankfully, while Miguel might’ve had a deficiency in patience, he did possess a powerful ability to focus. So, there was never much danger of him letting the process go too far.

It only took a little less than an hour before it had finished, and when he tested it, he was satisfied with the results.

That’s when he realized that Nerthus was watching him.

“Oh. Hey,” Miguel said, trying to hide how much the tree spirit’s sudden appearance had startled him. He’d spent a lot of ti trying to work on his situational awareness, and it was more than a little disheartening how easily Nerthus could sneak up on him. It was a good thing, then, that the spryggent intended him no harm.

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“I have two things that should help you finish your project, though I hope I can trust you to nd the damage you have done to the grove,” Nerthus said, his voice unquestioning. Miguel assured the tree spirit that he would take care of the fire pit appropriately, which brought a nod of approval. “Then hand your blade.”

Miguel followed Nerthus’ command.

For a mont, Nerthus held the weapon by the hilt and inspected it closely. Finally, he said, “This is an acceptable first effort, though I expect you to improve with your next attempt. You are this grove’s protector. A defense against all who might covet its power. As such, you must wield weapons appropriate for your station.”

Nerthus raised the sword, then used the blade to nick his finger. After that, he sared his blood – which resembled black sap – along the entire edge. When he was done, he said, “I have consecrated this blade as a symbol of your authority and duty, Green Warden. Accept this gift in the spirit it was given.”

He held the blade out, and Miguel took it as reverently as he could. After giving Nerthus a bow, he said, “Thank you.”

“You are welco, young Green Warden. Now, you must sharpen that blade. The resin will enhance the wood and hold an edge much better than even the most durable wood.”

Miguel looked at the blade. The area up to the primary bevel was entirely black, just like Nerthus’ sap, though the additional material had thrown off the blade’s geotry. So, Miguel followed Nerthus’ instructions and retrieved a file to remove so of the material. After that, he used so homade sandpaper to give it a fine edge that, when tested, proved incredibly sharp.

Throughout the whole process, Elijah continued to use his plant-growing spell, which flooded the entire area in extre vitality. Miguel wasn’t certain if that would help, but he knew it couldn’t hurt. Thankfully, his uncle had let the rainstorm stop. Otherwise, it would have made things a little more difficult. Not impossible, but definitely ssier.

In any case, once Miguel was satisfied with the edge, he found that Nerthus had once again appeared out of nowhere. This ti, he held a large jar, which he said was a sealant Elijah had developed for his various staves. It was made of beeswax gathered from the grove’s apiary and homade linseed oil. Because all of the ingredients had been sourced on the island, the final product was absolutely teeming with ethera.

That reminded Miguel just how lucky he was to have such resources available to him. Certainly, he could have made do with other, lesser ingredients. He knew that much. But it wasn’t out of the question that the grove would push anything he made within its bounds to a much higher tier than his ager skill would normally dictate.

It also made him wonder what a true crafter could do in such an environnt. When he asked Nerthus, the tree spirit said, “Many groves are widely renowned for their crafters. I rember very little of my ho planet, but at tis, I can still hear the song of the Treesingers. However, you must be wary of any Tradesman who appears too eager to join a grove. Many have no real connection to nature, and thus, only wish to use the grove’s resources for their own ends.”

“Isn’t that how it works with most people?” Miguel asked. He was not well-experienced in the ways of the world, but he knew enough about human nature to know that people were often self-interested, sotis to the detrint of everyone else.

“It is,” Nerthus agreed. “That is why we must be selective in who we allow within the grove. Your uncle has no interest in such things. Left to his own devices, he would never allow anyone into his ho.”

“I’m right here,” muttered Elijah without opening his eyes. He was around ten feet away, but he was more than close enough to hear Nerthus’ assessnt.

“I am aware,” the tree spirit said, which elicited a dramatic groan from the Druid. Then, to Miguel, he continued, “A person must be of very specific character to serve the grove. Rember that before inviting others. But do not be too selective, lest we beco vulnerable in our stagnation.”

“You talk about it like I’m going to be out there recruiting people.”

“So I do. Now, finish your weapon. I am eager to see the results,” Nerthus said.

Miguel sat, and though he was tempted to let his mind wander to Nerthus’ statent, he focused his attention on the task at hand. The sealant went on easily, and he spent quite a lot of ti massaging it into the wood, including the simple hilt and guard. He’d been tempted to go with sothing more elaborate, but in the end, he neither had the skill nor the desire to carve anything too fancy. It was a weapon of war, not art.

He spent a few hours covering every inch of the weapon, using his awl to help him get it into the carved embellishnts. Once he was finished, he again found Nerthus waiting for him with a few strips of leather.

“This is from the mightiest guardian your uncle has encountered,” Nerthus stated, handing it over. “The boar king was at the peak of the mortal realm, and if it had been in its right mind, it would have ascended long before eting Elijah.”

“And he killed it?”

“It gave it the rciful death it deserved,” Elijah announced, his eyes finally open. He didn’t move from where he sat, but he continued, “The guardian had been robbed of its natural treasure but left alive. It was panicked and distraught, and it had begun to rampage across the plains, killing hundreds of people. I stopped it, but there was no victory in it. Just a tragedy. Using its hide to help protect this grove honors it.”

Then, Elijah once again closed his eyes.

For his part, Nerthus provided more sap to act as an adhesive, which Miguel used to affix the leather to the hilt. As he wrapped the strips around the handle, he felt a surge of ethera emanating from the blade, and once he’d finished, that surge beca an explosion of energy that felt powerful enough to physically burn him.

It didn’t.

But when he finally looked upon the weapon, he saw that the product was far better than he could have expected. The curved blade was perfectly shaped, and the carved embellishnts stood out just enough to give it character. When he hefted it, he found that it was well-balanced, and the hilt was comfortable in his hand.

The blade was finished, and the second he acknowledged that, a notification flashed across his inner eye:

Congratulations! You have created a unique item: [Blade of the Green Warden]

Overall Grade: Complex (low)

Enchantnt Grade: C

“It’s…Complex-grade,” he whispered to himself. “I shouldn’t be able to make sothing like this. It’s not…it just shouldn’t be this good.”

Elijah smiled in his direction. “That’s part of being connected to the grove,” he said. “I don’t know how it works – not exactly – but the power of the grove tends to fill in gaps and helps us get more out of the materials than we otherwise would. Sadly, as non-crafters, everything we make is already bound.”

“That would not be the case for any Tradesn we recruit,” Nerthus stated. “Rember what I said.”

Then, the tree spirit disappeared, flowing into a nearby root. anwhile, Elijah closed his eyes, and the pulse of the Druid’s ethera told Miguel that his uncle was in the middle of a powerful bout of cultivation.

“I guess I need a scabbard now,” he said. That was true, but now that his task was complete, all the sleep he’d missed over the past few days had begun to tell on him. So, he retreated to the treehouse that he shared with his mother, then collapsed onto the bed of moss and fell asleep.

The mont he drifted into unconsciousness, he dread of the community Nerthus wanted him to recruit.