Nero Walker, Book 4 Ch.62 (293)

Merrick reached out to carve his spell form, carefully manipulating the resulting spell construct to join with the shield being maintained over the tunnel’s opening. He could feel the mental presence of the surrounding mages incorporating him into their combined identity. Well used to the sensation, he allowed part of his mind to merge into it without issue.

Meanwhile, most of his attention remained on the fighting that was going on outside the tunnel. While he couldn’t see everything, it was clear to him that the melee fighters and what few archers they had were handily taking control of the situation.

What had started with an ambush costing them multiple Wackos, was quickly turning into a successful counterattack. He could see kobalds dying by the dozens, while fewer and fewer Wackos suffered any injuries at all. Without their illusionary wall to hide behind, the kobalds were falling back on their standard suicide tactics, attempting to overrun them with numbers. It was the type of fight the melee fighters were more than used to seeing from them.

“Mages, advance the shield ten units. Maintain cohesion at the edges and prepare for incoming,” he heard the team leader order over the designated channel being used for shield mages.

Stepping forward a few steps, he felt the combined will maintaining the shield alter the construct as ordered. Merrick had never had a strong mental presence, and he could feel that his contribution to the combined identity had been nearly subsumed by the more powerful mages around him.

He felt it the moment the kobalds began launching spells into the shield. It felt like tiny spikes of pain being transmitted through his spell link. While not terrible, it wasn’t pleasant.

Suppressing a grimace, he tried to focus on something else. He’d had plenty of practice being part of a shield, and he’d long since learned that the best way to handle the pain was to release his control on the part of his mind that was fueling the combined spell.

Unfortunately, with part of his mind along with his center being dedicated to maintaining the spell, there wasn’t much else for him to do. He couldn’t fight, as any concentrated effort would shatter his connection. He couldn’t cast any other spells, as his center was currently being slowly drained to power the shield. Technically, he could train his multicasting ability, but that would be an unnecessary strain on his mind. All he could do was hold strong, falling back on his meditations to keep his center from emptying.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he focused his mind as he’d been taught. He thought about nothing but his path. Where he was and what he was doing. Who he was and who he wanted to be.

The more skilled, the more powerful a mage was, the more spells he could cast without emptying his center.

Sadly, Merrick knew that he wasn’t all that skilled or all that powerful. He was average… at best.

Opening his eyes, he watched as the melee fighters continued to spread out, allowing for more and more reinforcements to pour out from the tunnel behind him. Runners were dragging away kobald bodies and tossing them along the walls while also retrieving wounded Wackos, escorting them to the healers. It was an inspiring sight. The kobalds were being annihilated.

He recalled just days ago when the melee fighters would have struggled with this number of enemies. But, like Battle Leader Averrett said, ‘War was a forge that tempered the worthy’.

Glancing to his left, he watched as the Battle Leader ripped through an assaulting group of kobalds like they were stalks of wheat waiting for harvest. Even from as far away as he was, he could see the shimmer of essence coating her speartip, promising death to every kobald stupid enough to get within reach of her spear.

As he surveyed the combat line, he could see abilities being thrown out judiciously, the Wackos having long since learned not to waste their center. No one out there could be considered a novice fighter anymore. There were no longer any weak and hesitant combatants worried about living up to the hopes of House Walker. They were all now battle-hardened warriors, each one having proved to themselves what they were capable of.

Merrick winced at the feeling of a particularly strong spell hitting the shield, while more of his center was being pulled out by spell construct.

‘Endure!’ he reminded himself as he reaffirmed his will and focused on recovering his center.

While the battle raged on, his thoughts returned to what Lord Walker had been saying during their march through the tunnels. As always, the young lord’s wisdom had been both thought-provoking and confusing in equal measure.

Lord Walker had spoken of responsibility and duty, of the right way to live and what kind of person a Wacko should be. He spoke of paths, and what kind of strength a person needed to walk them. Hearing how the lord saw the world opened Merrick’s eyes to many questions he’d never bothered asking.

He’d been taught that cities were responsible for their own progress for a reason. They would grow or die on their merit. It was the responsibility of the nobles in charge to cultivate and steer their development. But hearing the lord’s comparison to a parent raising a child resonated deeply with him.

Why did the powerful allow the weak to face challenges that were beyond them? How much stress was too much? Were the nobles leading Dorchester being irresponsible for not giving up control of Dorchester in the face of such trials?

But none of that was what really concerned him. What really concerned him was Lord Walker’s question of what each person owed to themselves and those around them.

The young lord was right, Merrick had to accept that he would only progress as far along his path as he was willing to go. If he didn’t push himself, then he’d eventually end up finding himself in a situation beyond his ability to survive. While the powerful had a responsibility to provide a safe place to grow, stress and experience were his to find on his own.

Just like now, where Lord Walker took care of the kobald’s illusion. He allowed them a chance, but it was up to them to seize it. It was up to him to be worthy of it.

Firming his resolve, he began to practice carving a separate spell form while maintaining his connection to the shield spell. He hadn’t attempted this exercise in years. It was too difficult, and too demanding on his mental reserves. Doing this had always resulted in leaving him with a headache along with a lingering pain in his center. But, it was an exercise that he felt he had to do if he was serious about becoming a mage of any significant power.

As the Walker said, “No one is born awesome. They become awesome by consistently being awesome. Awesomeness isn’t a state of mind, it’s a lifestyle.”

—--

The battle progressed quickly from Nero’s perspective. Especially quickly considering he had decided to stay out of it. He knew that if he’d stepped up and begun throwing spells left and right, the kobalds wouldn’t have had a chance. But, he couldn’t refute what that healer, whose name he’d already forgotten, had said. Cathleen and the Wackos didn’t need him to save them.

After watching for a few minutes, Nero could clearly see that they had everything under control. Even with how many kobalds there were, how many shamans and casters they had, and even with the inclusion of the few ‘true’ kobalds who were leading their forces… the enemy simply didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting out of this cavern alive.

From what Nero was hearing over the command channels, Cathleen even took the time to arrange for small teams to be dispatched to the surrounding tunnels to ensure that none of the kobalds escaped. Despite being outnumbered by a ridiculous margin, she was absolutely confident in her impending victory.

Once Nero came to terms with the fact that his help wasn’t wanted, he quickly and decisively decided to stop caring. He had no interest in standing by and watching them all kick ass like some kind of cheerleader. Instead, he found something more interesting to do. Namely, study the ritual plates the kobalds had left behind which were responsible for the illusionary wall they had set up.

Or at least that was one of the things on his agenda. There were unfortunately too many things on his mind and too many topics that deserved a few hours of his attention. Not that he had a few hours to waste tackling them. But, without the option of engaging in some ultraviolence, he allowed himself to be distracted a bit.

That said, he did remember to keep an eye on the healers to make sure they weren’t burning themselves out by overstressing their centers too badly. He made sure to let them know that he was available if they needed him, and went out of his way to ‘order’ them not to allow anyone to permanently die for the sake of their pride or any other such dumbassery.

By the time he got truly fed up watching everyone else being productive, he had already begun to study the soul stuff the dead kobalds left behind a little more proactively than he’d had the chance to up until now.

Having fully embraced his non-participatory status in the battle, he ended up pulling out his stump from his personal space and taking a seat right in the middle of the expanding circle of combat. His chosen perch was somewhat still near the exit from the tunnel. It wasn’t all that hard for him to ignore the curious looks and questioning glances he was getting from everyone around him, as he’d decided that if they weren’t going to allow him to fight or heal, then they had no right to bitch about him taking a break.

So, for the remainder of the battle, he intended to spend his time sitting on his ass with his eyes closed, using his senses to probe and play with what was left of the kobald souls which had been reaped by the enthusiastically bloodthirsty Wackos under Cathleen’s command. And, the longer he studied them, the more he learned.

For one thing, he was able to confirm why he was no longer so easily able to commandeer them to power his own spells. It really was all about their intention before their death. The remanent mind which was left behind in them didn’t ‘want’ to cooperate with him. He could overwhelm the mind, but it took more energy than it was worth, resulting in a net loss and defeating the point. However, he did find that the remnant minds were pretty stupid, so he was able to somewhat trick them into working with him if he was clever.

But what was most interesting was that the method he used to ‘communicate’ with them was much more abstract than literal. Meaning that he couldn’t ‘ask’ them with words or gestures. It was more like engulfing them with his presence and ‘emoting’ at them. It reminded him of trying to get a dog or an animal to cooperate with him. Naturally, he wondered whether or not it worked the same way with human soul stuff, or if there was a way for him to actually communicate with them.

That question did however cause him to take a mental morality check to ensure that he wasn’t considering killing anyone just for the sake of magical scientific advancement. For a moment, just a moment, he found himself understanding the impulsive and insane point of view of the necromancers and flesh crafters from the web novels he used to read.

“My lord, I don’t mean to interrupt, but may I ask what you are doing?” a voice asked from his right.

Opening his eyes, Nero looked over to see Merrick staring at him in confusion. Considering that he was currently sitting on his stool, which was in turn on top of a pedestal of stone he’d raised with his favorite spell, Nero was able to meet his eyeline almost directly.

“Just studying the ether a bit. Do you guys have pets here? Like dogs and cats and whatnot… I don’t think I’ve seen any since I got here. Is that weird? It sounds weird when I say it out loud,” Nero asked while rubbing his chin in thought.

Confused, Merrick replied, “Pets? Yes, people sometimes have pets. But not often. It’s never really caught on in Dorchester. But, I believe several cities specialize in taming if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Nero nodded, seemingly accepting Merrick’s answer without being all that interested in digging too deeply into the subject.

“May I ask what it is about the ether that has you so fascinated? Are you trying to read the echo of the spell form the kobalds used for their illusion?” Merrick asked.

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Nero replied, “Wait, you can do that?”

Before Merrick could answer, Nero muttered to himself, “Did I know that? I think I knew that. Maybe I read about it somewhere… Delving maybe?”

Catching Merrick off guard, Nero changed the subject by asking somewhat directly, “Hey man, do you always have your essence shield up?”

It was obvious to Nero that Merrick was beginning to regret coming over to speak with him. He’d come to recognize the subtle emotions in the man’s essence field. While not easily interpreted, he was definitely starting to get a feel for the process.

Merrick replied, “Of course not. I’m not an archmage or even an adept.”

Not understanding what the man meant, Nero did however get his point. “Fair enough,” he replied.

Hoping that despite the man’s low opinion of himself he might be able to still help him, Nero asked, “Well, let me ask you this then. I recently began noticing that my mind has been getting better at maintaining multiple thought streams. And as a result, I’ve been finding it too easy to get distracted by things.”

Merrick replied easily, “That’s a common enough problem for mages who are progressing along their path. As long as you keep up with your training regime, your skills should allow you to maintain equilibrium as your mind grows into your stats.”

Nero nodded in understanding but didn’t bother to pursue any information about the ‘training regime’ he mentioned. Instead, he said, “Right, I figured as much. But my question is this. Why is it that if I dedicate part of my mind to maintaining my essence shield, I keep struggling to keep my center stabilized? It’s like I’m suffering a constant drain even though I’m not taking any damage. The shield isn’t doing anything, so where’s the energy going?”

Merrick took a solid minute to think before he answered. When he did reply, it wasn’t nearly as helpful as Nero hoped. “Have you managed to solidify your essence film? That can be pretty difficult from what I understand.”

Keeping his expression blank, Nero tried his best not to let the poor man know that he was way past that point of the process. That was like asking Gorden Ramsey if he’d mastered the art of microwaving popcorn.

Suddenly, Nero felt a connection request from his link. Somewhat surprised, he checked who was pinging him and saw that it was Nick.

“My lord?” Merrick asked, wondering why Nero hadn’t answered his question.

Refocusing on Merrick, Nero replied, “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just receiving a ping. Thanks for your help. Feel free to get back to the battle. It looks like the left flank could use a little support. But feel free to ignore me.” Somewhat sarcastically, he added, “After all, I’m not here to alter your path. Because that would be wrong.”

Ignoring Merricks slight bow as the man stepped away, Nero accepted Nick’s ping and asked, “Hey man, how are you calling me? Isn’t the Battle Hub separate from the Thought Hub? Aren’t you still in Dorchester?”

Nick’s presence over the connection transmitted his amusement with Nero’s question. Ever eager to sound like a professor dropping knowledge bombs, he replied, “Yes, I’m still in Dorchester. And no, Battle Hubs are not technically separate from the Thought Hub. In this case, it’s being used as a relay to transmit my signal through the still functioning nodes within the upper city, which is where you presently are. You see, each hub is merely a crystalized node for communication-based on-”

Nero cut him off the moment he began getting into the expected technical jargon. “Right, so why are you pinging me? I’m currently in the middle of a battle.”

Nick replied somewhat uncertainly, “Really? The archmage didn’t mention that. In fact, he specifically said that you were currently stuck on a problem and recommended that I get in touch with you. I believe his exact words were, ‘Ping him now before he starts experimenting again’.”

Chuckling, Nero took a moment to give the middle finger to the cavern ceiling along with everyone else who was watching him before returning his attention to Nick.

“Alright, so it’s like this. I’ve been using my extra brainpower to maintain my essence shield, but it's a pain in the ass to keep my center full. I end up wasting more brainpower just trying to focus on my identity to recover what I’m using. So, what am I doing wrong?” Nero asked.

Nick replied, “Why do you assume you’re doing anything wrong? Correct me if I’m mistaken, but you’re likely still using some sort of spell form for the anchoring identity of what you call your ‘mage armor’. If you are, that would obviously be the cause of your center usage.”

Nero replied with confusion, “But, I’m not taking any damage. Should I really be noticing the drain? I’m pretty sure that essence shields on melee users don’t take much effort to keep active.”

The moment Nero said that, he could feel Nick’s presence begin radiating disappointment. All of a sudden, Nero felt like he was standing in the presence of a coach on the way back to the dugout after striking out.

“Nero, essence shields for mages are entirely different than what melee fighters use. We talked about this. You were intent on creating ‘mage armor’, infusing your essence shield with protective properties like a mage shield. Of course that is going to have an ongoing cost of center to keep active. In fact, you shouldn’t even have enough center to keep your shield up for more than a few minutes at a time. How long have you been keeping yours active? And how much center do you have left?” Nick asked, sounding somewhat annoyed at having to ask Nero what he assumed was an obvious question.

Nero, now more confused than ever, replied, “I don’t know, like 20 or 30 minutes… or thereabouts. And my center is full. It’s just a pain in the ass to keep it full. I just told you that. I have to constantly concentrate on refilling it. It’s annoying and defeats the entire purpose of having half my brainpan dedicated to keeping it active. The point is to cut down on distractions while providing myself a benefit.”

Nero could feel Nick’s disbelief quite clearly. Quietly, Nick replied, “Your stats must be monstrous. Not to mention your sense of identity nearly solidified. No wonder the archmage believes you’re close to unity.”

Realizing that Nick likely wouldn’t be able to help him and that the conversation was probably going to soon begin pissing him off, Nero decided that he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “You know what, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out. And if Jennings has a problem with it, he can talk to me directly.”

Nick replied, “I don’t think he can. I can’t be sure, but likely what you’re having trouble with is a matter above my level. Nothing I’ve read about in the local archives addresses the issue you are dealing with. He most likely legally can’t help you. It would be interfering with your path while you remain in the city. Although, I’m not sure that restriction applies since you are a unique. Perhaps he just wishes you to progress without his interference and to utilize me as a resource for information that will help you discover things on your own.”

Nero, not at all happy with the discussion turning once again toward their ridiculous dogma, replied, “I said forget about it. If there is nothing else, I’m hanging up now.”

While not familiar with the term ‘hanging up’, Nick clearly understood what Nero meant because he replied, “No, there is nothing else. I will however leave a channel connection open so that you can contact me if you have any questions. If you do intend to experiment with your essence shield, I suggest you proceed with caution. Many a mage have nearly killed themselves by being too reckless and draining their centers by accident.”

Not taking Nick seriously, Nero replied, “Uh huh. Got it. I’ll be careful. Anyway, I got to go. Someone’s calling on the other line.”

Nick replied with confusion, “Someone else is pinging you? Who -”

Chuckling to himself, Nero cut the connection.

Now free from distractions, he took a moment to check on the battle still going on throughout the cavern. He could see the kobalds trying to condense themselves into somewhat tighter groups. They were no longer throwing themselves into combat like mini suicide bombers and were now finally going full-on defense as their primary strategy. Not that it was helping them much.

For the first time, he had the opportunity to see small groups of mages standing apart from the melee, launching spells at the kobalds from afar. However, the unoriginality of their use of fireballs was somewhat disappointing if he were being honest.

Scoffing at the sight of what passed for ‘magical combat’ here, Nero turned his attention back to what he’d been doing.

‘Wait… what had I been doing?’ he thought to himself before remembering. ‘Right. Soul stuff research. Although, this area is pretty empty by this point. I should probably head closer to the fighting.’

With a flex of his will, his stump returned to his personal space as the pillar under his feet returned him to the ground. Mentally checking on his ‘mage armor’ he noticed that it was still going strong. Yet, he could still feel the annoying drag on his center like a crink in the back of his neck that he just couldn’t shake.

‘I’m really going to have to do something about that,’ he griped to himself before walking off to get closer to the closest available soul stuff. ‘The closer you are, the easier it gets,’ he reminded himself while recalling a lesson he once heard for convincing women to like him.

*Chapter Title: Warming the metaphorical bench.

*Spoiler: The 'right' way to do things is always a matter of debate.  I've heard countless people express their opinions about countless subjects, every one of which has been contradicted by the next brilliant asshole whose opinion I was stuck listening to.  Consequently, I've come to believe that any way that works is a perfectly valid way of doing something.  I'll never agree to call it 'the right' way, or even 'the best' way, but I'll accept that it is 'a way' and then leave it at that.  I've even had to chastise myself a time or two for falling into the trap of believing that the way I do something is the 'right way'.  I once spent an entire afternoon arguing over the correct way to make grilled cheese sandwiches.  Only later did I realize that I was being a dick, and that the girl I was arguing with wasn't worth the effort of disagreeing with her.  I should have just nodded along and enjoyed a pleasant afternoon with her before never calling her again.  For the record though, I do not advocate ghosting people... that's mean... convenient... logical even... but still a dick move.  Get it?  It's not the 'right way' to break up with someone... but it is 'a way'.  See what I did there?