Path of Dragons

Book 7: Chapter 39: Communing with the Grove

Sitting in the center of the grove, Miguel focused on his surroundings. Because of his class, he’d been afforded the ability to perceive the grove in a way that exceeded the effects of his mundane senses. From what he understood, his uncle had a similar ability, though Elijah’s version was far more powerful and offered significantly increased detail. Yet, for Miguel, even his watered-down version was almost too much for him to fully comprehend. The volume of information was nearly overwhelming, but even more disconcerting was the change in mindset it took to understand it all.

It was one thing to see a tree and to know that it had thousands of leaves, but it was something else altogether to feel each one of them fluttering in the breeze. Even with his Mind cultivation, he had difficulty dealing with that much awareness – especially when it was multiplied by the entire grove. The best he could usually do was to push it into the back of his mind – a partition, according to Nerthus – where he could mostly ignore it.

But he wasn’t worried about that for now. Instead, he wanted to make a stride forward in his cultivation. Specifically, his Soul, which he hoped would allow him to use his abilities more quickly. There were supposed to be other benefits as well, but those seemed to be dependent on the quality of said cultivation.

That was the thing about progression – at least as far as he could tell. At the most basic level, everything seemed to follow a similar pattern. However, the more one advanced, the more their path would diverge from everyone else’s. In terms of levels, that was represented by Specializations, spell evolutions, and class evolutions, and with cultivation, what someone put into it – in terms of work, preparation, and execution – determined the quality.

Eventually, everyone would become wholly unique, even if they started with identical classes.

“You do realize this won’t work for you, do you not?” came a familiar voice.

Miguel opened his eyes and blinked at the sudden brightness before glancing toward Nerthus. “What do you mean?” he asked the tree spirit. “This is how Elijah does it.”

“First of all, he doesn’t do it here in the middle of the grove where the act of cultivation could foul the balance,” Nerthus answered, positioning himself in front of Miguel. He knelt, adding, “He uses his cultivation cave. Partially, this is because the ethereal density is much higher down there, but it is also because he wishes to protect this ecosystem from his meddling.”

“Well, I can’t go down there. I can’t breathe underwater,” Miguel said. He’d yet to get an item that would let him do that, though he’d run the tower a couple of times for that very reason. To bypass the Sea of Sorrows, he was forced to use potions, which had limited durations and always left him feeling queasy.

“Then what should I do? What am I doing wrong?”

“In a word – everything.”

Frustrated, Miguel asked, “What is that supposed to mean? Just tell me.”

“You are a Green Warden. Do you know what that means?” Nerthus asked.

“It’s just a class.”

“So you do not,” the spryggent stated. “You are this grove’s primary protector. A shield against any who would attempt to exploit it. That is a martial class. Do you understand how that changes things?”

Miguel shook his head.

“You must act. You must train. You must interact with this grove. If you attempt to follow your uncle’s example, you will, at best, experience inferior results. At worst, you will stagnate,” Nerthus explained.

“And how do I do it right? I’ve been training here for a while.”

That much was true. Every morning since he’d returned to Ironshore was spent pushing himself regarding both his physical fitness as well as his combat skills. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d raced Trevor around the circumference of the island, or how many huge rocks he’d lifted. He’d done thousands of sword and spear katas, and he’d even incorporated gymnastics into his regimen. He usually spent at least five or six hours a day in training, which pushed him to the limits of his stamina. Perhaps if he had access to some of his uncle’s healing spells, he could have gone further, faster, or harder, but that just wasn’t the case.

“You have been training your body, but you have not been training your Mind. Or your Soul. Certainly not your spirit,” Nerthus answered. “To do that, you need to focus on your intent. You must concentrate on your purpose.”

“And what is that?”

“Only you know, young Green Warden,” Nerthus answered. “It is personal to you, just as the Pledge of the Green Warden was wholly your creation.”

The Pledge of the Green Warden.

It hadn’t been that long since he’d made it, and it was still just as fresh in his mind as ever.

“I pledge to defend this hallowed ground with every breath, to protect against every threat, be it the Abyss or greedy mortals,” he repeated in a whisper. “My sacrifice is my honor. My duty, my life. As long as I draw breath, no harm shall befall this Grove. I will uphold this code, conducting myself with honor until the end of my days or such time as my service is no longer required. This is my solemn pledge, sworn before the World Tree, to honor, serve, protect, and preserve this sacred Grove.” Ṙ𝓪ɴo͍ʙƐ𝐒

The words were far more elaborate than he normally would have used, but the gist of his vow was uncomplicated enough to distill into three facets. First, his charge was to protect the grove. A simple purpose, but one that covered so much ground. The second was to serve the grove’s interests. Whatever it needed from him, he would give. If that meant tending to a garden or recruiting an army, then that was what he would do. The grove’s well-being came first, his own interests well after.

But there was more to it than that. Something that encompassed every other part of the vow.

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Suddenly, he felt Trevor’s approach. Miguel looked up to see the lunar stag at the edge of the grove. He wasn’t quite as majestic as his father – his antlers were barely even developed – but he was getting there. Soon, he would pass into adulthood, just like Miguel himself.

However, as he locked eyes with his companion, Miguel experienced a realization.

“Embody the spirit of a guardian,” he muttered to himself.

It made so much sense. Miguel was human, but at the core of what the Green Warden was meant to be was encapsulated by a guardian’s natural role. They were tied to natural treasures, and their charge was to protect them at all costs. And what was the grove if not the most potent natural treasure on Earth?

Certainly, Miguel had not visited even a tiny fraction of the planet, but he suspected that there were no other challengers on that front.

Without further discussion with Nerthus, Miguel pushed himself to his feet and drew the Blade of the Green Warden. It was not the best weapon he’d ever seen, but it was infused with the very essence of the grove. As such, it felt more appropriate than ever as he began one of his most complex katas.

He’d learned Dance of the Dragon from Birk, and it was far more intricate than the exercises he’d gotten from Colt. Within it were some moves that simply weren’t possible without superhuman control and Strength. According to the big man who’d tormented Miguel for months, it was intended to force him to adapt to his increasing attributes, and in that respect, it was extremely effective.

To date, Miguel had only mastered a small portion of the Dance of the Dragon. He simply didn’t have the attributes to go further. However, Birk had promised that as he progressed, he would unlock more and more of it until, in the end, he could call himself an adept.

There were other katas to learn after that, but Miguel knew it would take years – perhaps decades – to fully master the Dance of the Dragon. So, he didn’t give much thought to what might come afterwards.@@novelbin@@

Regardless, he wasn’t concerned with the nature of the kata itself. Instead, he found himself focusing on the intricate movements, the sudden shifts of momentum, and the control required by the Dance of the Dragon. As he did so, his mind settled onto the vow he’d taken to activate Pledge of the Green Warden.

At first, it did nothing.

He pushed harder. He moved his blade faster. Stopped it more suddenly. His every movement was under perfect control, and the results were spectacular. It was like a mixture of ballet and combat, but with absolute, machine-like precision. And through it all, Miguel continuously repeated his Pledge of the Green Warden – at least in his mind. Aloud, he only said, “Protect the grove. Serve the grove. Embody the guardian spirit.”

Over and over, he repeated that mantra until, at last, he felt a spark within his core. His ethera moved, swirling slightly before igniting. Suddenly, he could see the potential pattern of his soul. It only burned briefly in his mind’s eye, but that was enough to tell him he was on the right track.

Gradually, as he kept going, the day wore on, and the process continued. The glimpses into his soul were brief – barely lasting more than an instant – but each time he saw them, he cemented a portion of the pattern into his memory. Eventually, he would get the whole picture memorized.

But that would have to wait, because he simply didn’t have the stamina to finish. In fact, after almost two entire days, he only had committed a tiny fraction of the pattern to memory.

Sweating profusely, he suddenly stopped, then opened his eyes, only to see an unfamiliar person sitting near the tree. The girl was thin – unnaturally so – suggesting that she wasn’t entirely well, but there was something about her wide-eyed appearance that awakened something in Miguel.

He was no stranger to attraction to the opposite sex. He was a teenaged boy, after all. However, what he felt when he saw the girl was something different. Something more. Something he didn’t fully understand. It was connection and attraction rolled into one feeling, then combined with something ephemeral that he could only scarcely comprehend.

But more importantly, she wasn’t supposed to be in the grove.

“Who are you?” he demanded, noticing that she was cradling a tiny, snow-white fox kit in her lap. “And what are you doing here?”

“Um…Elijah said I could come here when I wanted,” she answered without a hint of fear. That was abnormal, considering how most people in Ironshore usually looked at him. Not only was he associated with Elijah, of whom they were terrified, but many of them had seen him during the battle against the dark elves. They knew what he could do, and that elicited a good deal of fear. “I didn’t know anyone would be here. Except Nerthus, of course. I just wanted to visit the foxes – they’re really cute, right? – but I saw you dancing, and…”

“It wasn’t a dance,” Miguel argued, even though the kata was literally called Dance of the Dragon. “It’s a kata.”

“Oh. Like karate? I had a friend who did karate. She was a yellow belt.”

“It’s not…I mean, yeah. It’s kind of like karate, I guess. Who are you?” Miguel asked, a little discomfited, and not just because of the feelings racing through his mind. The conversation had thrown him off guard.

“Oh. I’m Hope. You?”

“Miguel.”

“You’re Elijah’s nephew, right? I’ve heard about you around town. People are kind of scared of you,” she stated. “But you seem alright to me. Kind of sweaty, but…well, you didn’t kill me, so that’s better than what they’re saying about you, I guess.”

Miguel blinked, a little stunned by her candidness. He obviously had some inkling of his reputation, but no one had outright said that everyone was afraid of him.

“I…uh…thanks, I guess,” he managed to say, lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. “For what it’s worth, I try not to kill people unless I have to.”

“Probably a good start,” she acknowledged with a small smile as she scratched behind the kit’s ears. “So what were you really doing? That kata looked serious.”

“Training,” he answered. “Working on my cultivation.”

“My dad does that sometimes, but not like that. He usually just sits around and thinks about it really hard,” she explained. “No dancing involved.”

“Well, it’s kind of different for everybody,” Miguel said, crossing the intervening distance and sitting next to her. “It’s important because of what I am.”

“And what are you?”

He was tempted to lie or conceal his class, but at the end of the day, he knew she wouldn’t have been there unless she was friendly. Nerthus never would have allowed it. Besides, there was something about her earnest nature that just elicited trust. So, he said, “A Green Warden. Kind of like a guardian of this grove.”

“I thought that was Elijah’s job. Or Nerthus’.”

“Nerthus is the caretaker,” Miguel said, sitting near her. “And my uncle is…I don’t know…he founded the place, and it’s tied to him, but his role is different. I’m not really sure how yet.” He massaged the back of his neck. “I’m kind of new to all of this.”

“And you take it seriously, huh?”

He shrugged. “It’s my duty.”

She looked up from the fox and locked her eyes on his. “Sounds kind of lonely.”

The words hit harder than Miguel expected. He shifted in place, unsure of how he was meant to respond. Was it lonely? He hadn’t really thought of it in those terms, but now that he thought about it, he couldn’t deny that there was some truth to her assertion.

It wasn’t the whole truth, though. He had his family. He had Trevor. Colt and Kurik, too. And just across the strait was an entire city.

“I’m not lonely,” he said a little more defensively than he intended. He sighed. “I’m not.”

“Well, you don’t have to be,” she said. “You’ve got this little cutie and his brother and sisters. Plus, all the other animals here. I saw this white deer prancing around about an hour ago, too. Plus the trees. And now me.”

“You?”

“Sure,” she said. “I like it here, and Elijah told me I’m welcome to hang out whenever. It’s much better than the city.”

“Well…I guess that could be okay. The grove could always use more friends.”

“Exactly,” she said. Then, she pushed herself to her feet – not without some degree of difficulty – and said, “But I need to go home. My dad’s going to start worrying if I’m gone too long. Do you want to come with me?”

Miguel felt a flutter in his stomach. “Sure,” he said. “Just let me clean up a little first.”

After that, he headed back to the treehouse he shared with his mother, his stomach twisting into knots of nervousness.