“Time-consuming,” she said. “But not difficult. Not for someone with your skills.”
“And the bark bear?”
She laughed. “That, at least, offered you a challenge.”
“You could have helped.”
“How will you learn anything if others do it for you?”
“How will I learn anything if I get disemboweled by a monster?”
“That was never going to happen.” She smiled and laid a hand on my knee. “I believed in you.”
“So, this hard part…”
“Close your eyes,” she said. “Now, it’s time for me to teach.”
I did as she said. Without sight, I was more aware of the other sensations filling my world: the roughness of the log I was sitting on, the chitter of bats swooping through the treetops, the smell of wood smoke.
Faryn laid a fingertip gently against the center of my chest.
“Tolin has taught you to carve simple pathways through your spirit,” she said, “but to access the arts and techniques of Augmentation, you must forge far more challenging paths. The wood magic you have taken from the wisps will allow you to learn the Stinging Palm technique, but for that you must make the first of these paths.
“Imagine all that energy in one place, here, where I’m touching you. Now, imagine it growing, spreading out through your body.” She spread her finger and ran them across my skin until her open hand was planted there. “Imagine it growing further and you growing with it, expanding not just in the physical space around you but in that of the spirits.”
As she spoke, I could feel it happening. The energy flowed through me like roots wriggling through the earth. It became a part of me, like a second skeleton, and as it spread, so did I. I was an ancient oak, always growing, driven by the slow but unstoppable strength of the wood spirit.
“Steady your breathing.” Faryn’s voice came as if from a great distance. “Let the world drift away from you. Then, you’ll see what you must do.”
The scents of the forest, the sound of her voice, even the touch of her hand against my chest faded away. At last, I found myself standing in another forest, a shimmering place that glowed with a ghostly blue light. When I looked down, my body was the same, a bright thing of spirit, the edges trailing off into the air like the edges of clouds. I was naked, clothes and weapons left behind in the physical world.
A figure emerged from between the trees. It was as tall as I was, elegant and leanly muscled, its skin the pale smooth bark of a silver birch. I couldn’t tell if it was male, female, or something in between, but I could sense that it had come for me.
A dryad. A protective spirit of the forest, like I’d heard about in stories. And I knew, without knowing how, that I must master it if I was going to open the pathways within me.
I bowed to the dryad, and it returned the gesture. It raised its hands, and I did the same.
The hands were a feint. I realized it a moment too late as the dryad’s foot slammed into the side of my body. I bent double in pain but forced myself to stand upright. I wouldn’t be surprised twice, and I focused on blocking the attacks. Except it was much faster than any other opponent I’d ever faced. It flowed smoothly from one strike to the next without any hint of slowing down.
I managed to block a few strikes, but the other dozen hit home with all the force of a sledgehammer. In what the dryad intended as a final move, it brought a knee up into my face and sent me staggering. Its other leg lashed out, and I fell onto my back.
It had me at a disadvantage, and I couldn’t see any way to win. But I wouldn’t lose. Not when beating this dryad meant learning how to channel wood magic.
I rolled aside as the dryad leapt, so that it landed on the misty ground where I had been a moment before. This time, it was my turn to kick, and I caught it in the side and knocked it over.
I scrambled forward, arms flung out to catch the dryad around its torso, but it caught my wrist. My opponent slammed its other hand against my chest and flung me over it, using my own momentum against me. The air exploded from my lungs as I hit the ground.
I twisted my trapped hand around, grabbed hold of the dryad’s wrist, and yanked at it. It was falling onto me as I slammed my fist up into its stomach. It had no breath to let out, gave no sound of pain, but I felt its grip weaken. I dragged my hand free, grabbed the dryad by the arm, and wrestled for the advantage.
The dryad was still on top, and its strength was a match for mine. It writhed around until its knees were planted on either side of my chest. Both hands went to my throat and gripped it as tightly as any vice. I could feel the breath being squeezed out of me, thoughts coming harder with each passing moment. I battered at its arms, but they were as sturdy as pine trees, unyielding against my attacks.
One last chance. I flicked my legs up, then slammed them down as I arched my back. The movement flung the dryad off me. As it landed, I twisted on top of it. I pressed my chest against its body, shot one arm around a leg and the other around its neck, pinning it to the ground with my weight.
The dryad flailed its legs and battered at me with its fist, but it couldn’t get the leverage to have any real impact. It writhed and twisted, but I clung on tight. At last, its strength gave out and it went limp before tapping a hand against the ground in a final sign of surrender.
The ghost wood faded. I opened my eyes
