Inhale.
Open your meridians.
And Breathe.
With a few weeks of training, even a dragonet can discharge pure mana.
The mentors repeat it often: mana must be channeled. But why? What happens if you simply produced raw, unchanneled mana?
One quickly observes that its own, pure mana does nothing. It sparkles a little, it glows, and then it is gone. A cheap lightshow.
This tells the wrong story, though; pure mana does not do that – this is an environmental effect.
The true agent responsible is light.
Think of light as a sort of magical weed. It spread incessantly, and aggressively catalyzed any free mana into more of itself. In this way, every ray of light served as a mere spore for the radiances.
Even miles distant, the pseudosun ensured the training yard was replete with light cast and reflected, like any springtime meadow dusted in pollen. One dragon in the training yard, though, reflected little light.
Kaon inhaled.
Light, and its studied effects on pure mana, were not what he was thinking about, really. But the example served to clarify his thoughts.
The black dragonet secreted a little bit of his cast-off. As always, it started off dark like inexplicable shadow, and then faded to odd clarity.
But why?
As a single data point, this presented Kaon with a puzzle missing many pieces. But he had gotten more than a single piece, today. He recalled what happened when his cast-off was struck with Welk’s lightning. He couldn’t forget the absorption of the fourth level’s first homing firebolt.
Absorption. That’s what they said. It had been right in front of Kaon all this time. Pure mana didn’t glow; one simply saw it always in presence of Light mana, to whom it was a resource ripe for exploitation.
Kaon’s cast-off didn’t become transparent; he simply plunged it always into a world suffused with Air.
Did this matter, though? Abstractly, Kaon might never had cared, but for its potential application.
By nature, certain mana dominated out other types of mana: light consumed pure mana, but could not consume Air, or almost any channeled type. Air, though, was dominated in turn: by lightning, bursting across it like a claw swiping through flesh; by fire, simply consuming it like prey. No wonder then, that even after absorbing Air, Kaon’s cast-off could then still absorb Welk’s breath, or the firebolt.
Imagine the cast-off were a bucket. Any bucket is first filled with air, yet this was easily displaced by water. That water could be displaced in turn by pouring in sand. Wet sand, because the water would remain, clogging things.
But what if you never had to get rid of water?
“We don’t have much time,” Kaon said, even as his mind combed again over the reasoning, suspecting fault. “Are you ready?”
“You know what you’re doing?” The white dragon stood across from him on the dirt path leading from the training yard into the dragoness’s lair. Kaon had lead the way, so Kaon stood nearer to the cavern mouth.
Kaon thought about his response. For half a second. “Of course. I have a plan,” he told Oap with a meaningful nod.
Really, if nothing else – he would cause some proper havoc today. It had been so long.
Kaon watched Oap slowly gather mana into his throat nexus, shaping it. Hints of glowing lines traced along his neck, flowing and swirling. Evidence, Kaon decided, of his poor technique. Kaon had never managed to channel mana as the mentors directed, but even he did better than this – that glow was mana leaking out, and that dense, spiderwebbed network of submerdians was inefficient compared to merging them into direct, voluminous pathways.
Oap opened his mouth, and Breathed.
The white dragon’s breath was not wind. It would produce wind, of course, but you would not say that Imbry breathed heat, nor that Welk breathed light.
What emerged from Oap’s mouth was a Zephyr.
When light shined through air, its inherent mana was attenuated, like a kind of propagation tax. It was how air grew laden with mana; it could not to directly absorb pure mana. A continuous flow of light, then, from an ooze or a true radiance, would create a gradient of mana-laden air. And this is why creatures breathed at all; the lungs extracted ambient mana to sustain life from moment to moment. Most air, however, did not get breathed. Without extraction, the mana density would grow and grow, reaching extremes. And when this happened, the air was ready for a Zephyr, just as a forest layered in underbrush was ready for a wild fire.
From Oap’s mouth emerged a thin, pale swirl. An ephemeral thing, it flowed like slow, sinuous lightning. Tendrils fluttered behind it, or snaked out in front. In profile, it typically looked as a collection of swaying lines, occasionally bunching up into a spiral.
Oap still shaped the mana and he shaped his physical exhalation as the Zephyr flowed out. Like a smoker blowing rings, Oap created a vortex of air that trapped the Zephyr, and directed its path.
Zephyrs sought mana-laded air with their leading end, and along the linear “body” the mana was used to grow the Zephyr and create propulsive air flow.
The Zephyr flew right at Kaon’s face. His pulse quickened – few wouldn’t jump at another dragon Breathing at them. But he stilled himself and with timing, pushed out his cast-off – all three of the cubic inches he still had.
As Vessia taught him, his own cast-off was mana-laden. When he released it, the Zephyr hitched faster, responding to subtle changes mana density – it was drawn, attracted.
Kaon pushed it harder, while the cast-off still looked black. He reached out for the zephyr, enveloping it. Absorbing it, he hoped.
His cast-off began to lengthen like the windblown Zephyr. Success? As the Zephyr flowed at him, he pushed his cast-off leftward.
And the Zephyr turned.
“Woah dude,” Oap said. “I didn’t know you could control other dragons’ breath.”
I didn’t either.
Kaon spun the Zephyr in a loop parallel to the ground, seeking a stationary flow pattern.
Oap glanced back – glanced up. The gliding figure had neared the ground in those few seconds. “Aren’t we supposed to be doin something about that dragon, though? They’re bad news, aren’t they?”
“I am not just showing off,” Kaon said.
Step two.
This was where his plan really began.
Kaon could draw mana out from the corona and let it flow down his spine; he could even begin to channel it, but met resistance when he tried to push it back up his throat. Only pure mana could leave – pure mana, which turned to light seconds after emergence.
But Vessia showed Kaon that he could pour mana into his cast off after it left his throat.
So he pushed his head into the spinning vortex of air, and sent out pure mana, letting his cast off soak it up. His cast off, now acting as a Zephyr.
The vortex grow larger, faster. Kaon heard the whipping wind.
More mana. More.
A large enough Zephyr grew tendrils, trailing behind it like ribbons in the wind, creeping forward like the fingers of lightning.
A large enough Zephyr produced more Zephyrs, just as flames spread.
Kaon’s broke his cast-off into pieces and separated them, again and again.
It became a catalyst. Each piece of his cast-off a spark, and the tearing lines of multiplying Zephyrs the roaring flames.
The wind began to howl.
“Kaon, buddy, this seems a little dangerous.”
He didn’t respond.
“Did you clear this with the mentors?”
More! Other dragons had limited use of their breath, but Kaon had never worried about charges. Mana wasn’t his limit, volume was. Unlike the Zephyr or the homing firebolt, his cast-off wasn’t a construct of mana. It was a conduit for it.
Kaon took a step back, otherwise the swirling vortex would knock him off his feet.
Little motes of dust and dirt spun round and round, drawn up from the ground and caught up in the flow. It sparked an insight, and Kaon kicked more dirt into the mass, then grabbed a handful from the ground to throw in and darken the air. A flinch drew his eye, the other dragon blinking away bits of dirt flung into his eyes.
The two of them stood at the entrance to the young dragonness’s cavern-hall. Kaon had stepped into the tunnel – but Oap stood on the other side, a miniature tornado between them. Kaon gazed upon his creation, and looked back to the other dragon.
“Oap!” Kaon was loud, to be hear over the howling. “You’ve still got mana, right? Can you keep feeding this?”
“Does it need to be fed more?”
“It needs mana to not fade away,” Kaon said. In the long term, this was true – that is, after it had exhausted the mana-laden air around it, something which might take minutes. Feeding it mana now would only increase its size.
Kaon altered his approach. He pulled his cast-off back into himself, then ripped them back out. They were once more black, and he let them take on the translucency of the air. He let them be swept back into the vortex. Then he looked up to the other dragon. Oap looked unconvinced. “Think about it. We’re facing a fourth level dragon. We need all the edge we can get, right?”
Oap was frowning, the red crests over his eyes lowering in suspicion.
“Trust me, please? You can run away when the fourth level gets here, leave me to take him alone. But help me out, for these few moments?”
He thinks of me as a friend, doesn’t he? Would he abandon a friend in the face of something like this?
Oap sighed out a breath. “Okay, Kao. I’ve got your back.”
Kaon looked away, into the tunnel. “Shout when they get here, alright? I need every second if I’m going to find anything in here.”
Oap grunted, and Kaon saw his shadow giving wing-salute as the white dragon turned to face what’s coming.
The black dragon turned to get away from it.
Snuggly Serials 