It worked! Now I had a way to carry and haul logs that was even better than a tractor, at least in the thick woods. The only problem was getting the wood from the forest across the open yard and into my barn—unseen. Because somehow, I was pretty certain my aunt wouldn’t approve.
Laying the avatar back down, I covered him with some pine tree boughs and then thought about my new tool while I started cutting the log up into stove-length chunks. Even this would be easier with the muddy wood man, but my eagle-eyed aunt was sure to spot him.
I had a wooden log skidder that I had found with the saw, tucked away in the back of the old barn. It was meant to be pulled by a horse or mule across snow or low grass, but boys have been beasts of burden for eons, so with the addition of a rough-built wooden box, it became my vehicle to skid cut wood to the dry storage. I cut the log into thirteen pieces, split them, and stacked half of them on the wooden box, that being my best guess as to what I could pull. Turns out I was a bit generous in my estimation of my own strength. It barely budged. If only the big dirt dude was spelled like Draco, I thought, imagining wood being hauled to the barn and stacked for me while I slept in my bedroom. But wait… Why not? He was totally Earth formed, meaning the spells would be even easier for me than my Air dragon. Like a robot from an old sci-fi movie which I sometimes watched with Levi.
With a plan in place, I loaded the rest of the wood into the box and left the whole thing right where it was. After our habitually early dinner, while my aunt was busy with the regular evening dining crowd, I reactivated the big dude and had him pull the skidder to the barn. It was almost full dark and his brown earth colors went a long way toward hiding him. His strength and reach made stacking the cut wood a matter of mere minutes and then I walked him back to the rock pile and recovered him.
The next day, after school, I skipped Wytchwar again, heading straight to the wood lot. I had thought about little else but my project since the night before and had even drawn up some combinations of runes on scrap paper. With a thought, I peeled the mud from his form, then took my Sharpie to his frame. My aunt called to me once and I had to go to the forest edge and wave to her, showing I was diligently working on my firewood task. She studied me from the corner of the barn for a moment, then waved me back to work.
I manually ran the dude again, pulling a couple of logs to the cutting station, the action giving me even more insight into my spell program. Wood cut and split, I added more runes to his skeleton. Again, I stacked the wood in the skid box and left it.
This time, when dinner was over, I went to my room to do some homework. Aunt Ash nodded approvingly and left for the restaurant dining room. From the window in my little bedroom, I looked at the dark and shadowy forest. Putting my hand on the wood of the window frame, I sent my thoughts down into the ground, down into the forest, and into my creation.
Moments later, I saw the giant stride out of the tree line, picking up the rope and easily pulling the load of wood up and into the barn. From my desk, I could feel its movements, track its actions, follow its progress inside the dark old barn as it stacked the wood. Then I drove my magical worker back down to the woods, putting him to bed on his rock pile.
I added more runes to him the next day, carving some of these into stones that became part of his muddy body, using a small chisel from our odd collection of old tools. The layers of spells now allowed me to set him to certain tasks and let him run them himself, like the simple robots we were building in tech class in middle school.
The rest of the week continued that way, my robot gaining utility daily, now hauling logs, cutting with the big saw, and splitting the rounds with an old maul that I made integral to his right arm.
On Saturday, I got up a little late, ate a bowl of Cheerios, drank some orange juice, and ran outside.
But when I got to the barn to grab my gear, I found my aunt there, staring up at the stacks of firewood. I hadn’t thought about it, getting caught up in the magic of the project, but there was a lot of wood in there.
“How did ye get it stacked so high, lad?” Aunt Ash asked.
I almost lied, caught off guard as I was. Robbie, my wood, stone, and dirt robot, could stack wood nine feet high with ease. Me, not so easy. But lying to my aunt was a fool’s game. Air witches are incredibly tough to fool.
“Magic,” I said. “Instead of Wytchwar. I figured it counts as practice,” I said. “I was so far behind for the winter.”
“Show me, lad,” she said, causing my heart to lurch into my throat. Then she added, “Let me see you levitate the wood.”
I used telekinesis, lifting logs off one pile and onto another. Inside the barn, protected by its wards, my use of power would be muffled, hidden.
“Good control. But let’s not stack it so high. If I noticed, someone else might too. Darci and Levi know we have abilities, but showing them this is too soon, lad.”
“You want then shorter, like the normal four feet?” I asked.
“Make them
