Wooden Swords and Holy Magic

Nora was somehow able to figure out exactly where we were and how to get to the nearest town, just from examining the yellowed map she had been given. We struck out at a leisurely pace, and luckily, our journey was smooth as we moved southward, with no encounters of bandits or beasts. Thankfully, the path was actually in decent repair the further south we went, which made our travel considerably easier.

In the meantime, we continued our training with the group. My skill slowly improved, and it wasn’t long before I was at least able to hold my own in a fight, even if it was only because I was largely relying on my strength and reflexes to make up for my lack of experience. Nora even joined in from time to time, her preference for a shield and mace providing a unique change in the rhythm of the sparring sessions. While she was quite skilled, apparently her strengths lied in her healing ability, specifically in her inclination towards something the group called, holy magic.

Using magic to heal was not something I was familiar with, as Andras and I had never really considered something like it necessary, and never bothered even trying. Dragons healed relatively quickly on their own anyway, and even most major injuries could be repaired through molting. Now, I recognized its utility, especially if I was going to be travelling the world of humans. I figured I should probably learn what I could, just in case, and with my natural prowess in magic, I thought it should have been a breeze.

However, when I asked Nora to teach me, she merely blinked at me as if I had asked something strange. Seeing my bewildered expression, she chuckled behind a hand and told me, “My apologies, I shouldn’t laugh. I’ve just never been asked that question before, so it caught me a bit off guard. Unfortunately, it’s not something I can just teach to anyone. Hmm…how to explain it?”

She grabbed a twig and leaned forward, drawing a circle in the dirt between us. “Think of this circle as our world, Terith,” she explained, “Within it exists mana and prana, the sources of magic that you’re familiar with. But there are countless worlds out there amongst the heavens, and each of them has their own unique sources of power. When Goddess Mariah descended onto our ancient world and created humanity, she did so in her own image, using the magic of her own homeland. That is what we now refer to as holy magic, a power from outside of our world. Unfortunately, the ability to tap into it is an inborn gift that only manifests in certain individuals, a remnant of the magic which birthed our entire species. And even for those extraordinary few who can wield it, the strength of the gift can vary wildly. I consider myself to be relatively skilled, but it took me nearly twenty years of training before I could heal even a light scrape.”

Lassan, who was taking a break nearby, commented, “It’s true. Most of us church knights can’t use holy magic at all. Even for those who can, they aren’t all able to use it for healing, either. Our captain, Julius? Well, let’s just say that there’s a good reason they call him the Faithfire Knight! Maybe you’ll get to see his skills in action, someday. He’s also one of the three Blade-Saints, the church’s strongest and most skillful warriors.”

I sighed, a bit disheartened by the news. Sounds like it’s a rare ability, then. And if it was a gift to humanity, it’s very likely I’ll never be able to learn it. Seeing my dejection, Nora added sadly, “It is a shame. Strong prana can help us recover from injuries naturally and resist illness and disease, but mana just isn’t suited to things of that nature. Or perhaps, we just haven’t figured out how to use it in that way, yet. I do wish there were more people in the world who could use holy magic to heal…it would make this world a much less painful place.”

I grunted in agreement, and promptly gave up on the idea of learning healing magic. It would have been nice, especially if anything ever happens to Rill. Oh well. I’ll just have to make sure to keep her safe, and I won’t even need healing magic.

My gaze drifted over to where Rill had resumed sparring with both Tark and Lassan at the same time, and I felt a bit more at ease. It might have only been a few days, but she moved with a grace and precision that was almost superhuman, effortlessly evading and deflecting their attacks, seamlessly jabbing her wooden twig into openings that even I could not detect. It was encouraging to know that she could at least hold her own in a fight, and judging from what I was seeing, she would probably be able to overpower almost any common opponent, bandit or otherwise.

Thinking on the subject, I quickly realized that our improving skills meant nothing if Rill and I had nothing to fight with. The bandits we had fought so far had not used anything other than crude weapons like clubs and spears, or axes. It seemed that even if they did have a monopoly upon the resources of the region, swords were still hard to come by, and they preferred to use what they were familiar with instead of wasting resources and time to craft and learn something new.

I could get by just fine with my natural strength and magic, and Rill did have had her bow, but even so, I was less than confident. If something went wrong, I wanted to her be able to defend herself. I pondered the issue for several days, before I suddenly got an idea.

One night while the others slept, I crept out into the woods, far enough away that I was sure no one would be able to hear me. I searched until I found a tree only slightly thicker around than my arm, and considered it for a moment. Even if I was pretty far away from the group, I still did not dare transform for the fear of them finding out my secret. Even if they did seem to have warmed up to us, there was simply no telling how they might react if they learned the truth, and I did not want to risk it.

Opening my core, I made a blade with my hand, channeling a stream of mana as air around it, sort of like an improvised chainsaw made of wind. With it, I chopped down the tree in a flash, and over the course of the next few hours, I painstakingly carved two wooden swords from the log, one for me, and one for Rill. Holding them up to admire my work, I grinned. I had never been the most artistically-inclined person in the world, and despite their simple design, I was impressed by my own handiwork. I had put special care into the balance and grip, focusing on function over form, and was overall satisfied by the result. Still, they were really only fancy wooden sticks. There was no way they could rival a real, steel blade.

Alright, now for the moment of truth, I thought, and took a deep breath, charging mana into the air that filled my lungs. I had never breathed magic as a human before, but it could not be much different than doing it as a dragon, I reasoned. Holding the wooden swords up in front of my face, I carefully coated them with a light breath of magic, the heated air wafting over the wood and seeping deep into the grain. The idea was similar to fire-hardening wooden implements, but it was my hope that imbuing the wood with magic would create something a bit more robust.

The wood shimmered and crackled beneath the magical bombardment, and when it finally stopped making strange noises, I made the determination that whatever the result might be, my work was complete. I repeated the process with both blades, and hefted them to check their feel. There was no knowing what sort of wood I had used, but it was certainly dense, and the weight had ended up feeling very close to that of the longswords Lassan and Tark used, which I had referenced as my model.

Swinging them around a few times, and listening to the satisfying swish they made as they cut the air, I smiled, happy with the results of my labor. Well, now all that’s left is to see how they fare in an actual fight.

The next morning, as we settled in for our usual warm-up practices, I presented one of the swords to Rill, who took it reverently at first, holding it as delicately as she might a glass bowl. “You made this for me?” she wondered, and beamed with absolute elation at my affirming nod, practically squealing, “Thank you, Leo! This is the best gift ever! Thank you, thank you!”

She hefted the wooden blade, taking a few practiced swings and blindingly quick stabs at the air before nodding in approval. Tark regarded it with a critical eye, and even Lassan’s expression spoke of his unsureness as he voiced his concern, “A wooden sword? That’s…certainly a unique idea, but I’m afraid there’s a reason people don’t use them outside of training, Leolyn. It’s liable to shatter after a few hits.”

I smiled, and winked at him, saying, “Well, let’s just say I made these ones special. Why don’t we put them to the test?”

“Alright,” Tark grunted, rising to grab his own sword and face off against Rill. He unsheathed the blade with a loud rasp of leather on steel, and readied it in front of him. “You might be able to get the better of me using some stick, but I’ve been itching for a rematch with an actual blade. It just isn’t the same, you know? Don’t worry; I’ll go easy on you.”

“Ha, ha,” Rill mocked, dropping into a stance of her own with her new wooden blade at the ready. “Just don’t cry when I beat your sorry butt fair and square, Tark!”

A breeze scattered fallen leaves into the air across the field, ruffling the tall grass as the two of them stared at each other in silent concentration. Lassan and I shared a look, before turning our full attention on the fight, both of us eager to see what was about to unfold.

Both of them moved in the same instant, a blur of motion that I could barely follow. It seemed that Tark really was considerably more skillful with a real blade in his hands, the silvery length of steel flashing in the morning light as he wasted no time launching his assault. However, Rill seemed unperturbed, her face shining with confidence as she continued to flow through various forms and stances she had devised almost entirely on her own, easily keeping pace with the man’s attacks. I suspected her unconventional way of fighting also contributed to her having an edge over these two, with them being noticeably more regimented in their style.

Still, when blade met wood, we were not greeted by the dull clunk that we expected; instead, there was a shower of glowing sparks with each impact, along with a crash that defied logic, a sound deeper and fuller than that of metal on metal, but similar, all the same. It seemed that my magic hardening of the wood had worked, albeit with some unexpected effects.

We watched as Rill went on the offensive, her confidence in the wooden blade’s durability having been bolstered with use. Her each and every strike grew in intensity as the realization slowly dawned on her that, at long last, she could unleash the full extent of her ability. She quickly began to overwhelm Tark, pushing him backwards across the field, his eyes widening with each successive step he was forced to retreat. Sweat poured from his brow in rivulets as he struggled to defend himself from Rill’s onslaught, her blade a dull brown blur streaking through the air.

He yelped in pain as Rill’s sword smacked his hand, and his own blade was tossed into the air, spiraling end over end to land point-first in the dirt behind him. She held the tip of her wooden blade to his throat, and declared with a cheeky grin, “Well, well. Looks like I win again!”

As Tark collapsed onto his backside, Lassan let out a breath beside me, murmuring to himself, “Unbelievable! Has she been holding back this entire time?”

Rill approached, running a hand over her new sword to inspect for any imperfections. Of course she’s been holding back, I thought, If she had fought like that with a simple stick, it would’ve broken on the first swing. Now that she doesn’t have to worry about that…just how far could she go in this world?

Seeing my questioning gaze, she smirked and gave me a victorious thumbs-up, saying, “Leo, this is so awesome! Did you see that? I totally kicked Tark’s butt!”

The man in question scoffed loudly, crossing his arms and looking pointedly away, grumbling, “Damned lucky hit, is what it was...”

Rill chuckled at him, and turned back to me, rapping her knuckles against her sword with a hollow toc-toc. “I don’t know how you did it, but this is almost as good as a real sword! At least, it seems to have held up just fine. Still solid, no signs of damage whatsoever. I know it’s made of wood, but I’d feel totally confident using it in a real fight.”

I smiled, caressing the matching sword that I had stuck through the belt around my waist. “I’m glad to hear it! Honestly, it was just an idea I came up with one night. It’s nice to know that it actually worked!”

The matter settled, we packed up camp and set out, Nora mentioning that we should be approaching our destination within the next day or so, a fishing town as she described it. And even though I was aware it would be next to a body of water, I was not fully prepared when we crested a hill to see the settlement in the distance.

The town itself was larger than I had expected, but it was nothing more than a tiny port compared to the absolutely massive lake that stretched out behind it, nearly meeting with the horizon in the distance. A dozen ships of varying sizes were moored at the faraway dock, but strangely, I could see no vessels out traversing the shining waves. We exchanged an excited, and trepidatious, look as we admired the sight.

We had reached the aptly-named town of Lakeside.