I sit back on a stool that a couple of Unevolved brought over not too long into our third attempt. That was before lunch; by now the sun is far past its zenith and the carcass that we were brought is picked clean. This isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.

  It seems that cement is beyond me even if I can create lava out of nowhere, and can recreate the earth into anything else I can conceptualise, including rock spikes, clay bowls, or quicksand. Maybe it’s because I’m not entirely sure about what the specific components are of cement, merely the effects of it. Right now, concrete is tantalisingly out of reach.

  River did manage to find a mixture of herbs and magic that, when mixed in with soil at the formation stage, does seem to make soil hold together better and be more resistant to impacts, but it’s still nowhere near concrete. It might enable the samurans to build perhaps one storey beyond what might have otherwise been possible for them, but little more than that.

  Perhaps we don’t need concrete to achieve our objectives here. Dry mud worked well for many human civilisations over the millenia. But it’s limited in scope. One storey, maybe two at the most. And that’s with the floor made out of wood. Even held together with woven roots it will only be able to expand past that with the help of River’s concoction.

  But maybe I’m being too ambitious here. Maybe the lizard folk don’t need the capacity to expand past those three stories – with the underground space too, they’ll already have four floors. That will quadruple the storage capacity of the samurans by itself.

  At least with magic they don’t have to face the issues that any primitive civilisation settling in this damp forest would have to contend with. No need to wait for the mud to dry when any Earth-Shaper or Water-Shaper can extract the moisture within minutes. And mud can be replaced easily enough by those same Earth-Shapers when it’s washed out by rain, just as damaged wooden shingles can be quickly created and repaired by Wood-Shapers and Plant-Shapers.

  I sigh, looking up at the sky. The fact is that we need to have shelter for all of the samurans by tonight. Pursuing perfection just means that my newest group of conquered Unevolved will have to sleep without a roof over their heads. And Windy’s indicated there’s going to be a storm tonight. Because of course there is.

  I look around at the samurans working on this project. Though, most of them aren’t exactly working. While Jumpy, River, and Flower are testing something together, the rest are mostly just chatting. Our group has grown significantly. The fields have apparently been put to rights physically, though the plants will take some time to reestablish – there’s only so much even Plant-Shapers can do. Fortunately, the Unevolved farmers are happy to return, and have taken a few of the newly arrived Unevolved with them to learn the ropes – and start earning Energy fragments.

  As a result, several of the members who had been working on restoring the area have come to join us here, namely the Earth-shaper from the bigger red village, Water-shaper, Plant-shaper, Ice-shaper, Dusty, Leafy, and Joy. Herbalist and the two Healers are still working on the animal husbandry situation. From what I’ve heard, Bares-claws along with a group of Warriors and Unevolved are doing a good job at collecting various beasts from the forest, both old and new ones. I’ll need to check up on that later.

  Having more Pahtwalkers around should have helped with our project, but honestly I’ve felt that it’s hindered it. I’ve felt more distracted and less inspired with every Pathwalker who came to join us.

  Perhaps it’s time to change that.

  “Alright everyone, clearly, this isn’t working out,” I say, glaring at Water-shaper and Earth-shaper until they stop chatting to each other and start listening. “We need shelters for everyone who arrived today, and we need them up fast. So we’ll just use the design which has worked the best so far – the one Leafy and Earth-shaper came up with that includes River’s herbal concoction. Assuming she can produce enough of it for five buildings.” I look over at her expectantly.

  If I have some help with fetching and processing the herbs, I should be able to make just enough, she offers.

  “Then some of you will need to do that while the others get started on the buildings. We’ll use that design with wooden shingles to make sure it’s waterproof because Windy’s told me that there’s a humdinger of storm already building deeper into the valley, and it’s likely to hit after dinner. We want everyone able to get inside and under cover when it arrives.”

  There’s a little murmuring as a couple of the newer Pathwalkers exchange comments, mostly about the storm itself – everyone knows to be fearful of storms and the damage which the lightning bolts can do. “As a bit of extra motivation, you can visit my den for whatever time remains between the construction of the five shelters and dinner,” I add, smiling wryly as I see the excitement among those who know what that means. I hesitated for a long moment before continuing. “And that applies to all Pathwalkers present.”

  Trust me, Earth-shaper, Dusty says surprisingly enthusiastically, I can’t tell you why, but you want that reward! Even if the group of Pathwalkers were a bit uneasy with each other at first, apparently most of them seem to have put the recent events aside in favour of their commonalities as Pathwalkers. I don’t understand how they can forgive and forget so quickly – a single day since the attackers fought to kill or kidnap my villagers and they’re chatting like they’ve been friends for years. Perhaps this is why village takeovers actually work and manage to convert Pathwalkers’ loyalties to their new villages.

  Maybe I’m being a little harsh here. I can sense that there’s an element of awkwardness and unease even as they speak brightly to each other. And I’m not blind to a number of resentful looks which have been thrown around – and not only among the Pathwalkers but from some of the Warriors and Unevolved passing by. But it’s still far less than I would have expected.

  Something in the samuran mindset makes concentrating on the present so much easier than focussing on the past. I can’t imagine the same thing happening among humans. And frankly, I’m almost feeling a bit of whiplash at how quickly public opinion towards the invaders has changed. It’s not like they’ve evidently forgotten what happened…but almost every Pathwalker other than me seems to have mostly got over it. Happy is the only Pathwalker who I can say with confidence is angrier than I am about what happened. The Warriors seem to be warier and angrier than the Pathwalkers, but even they are less so than I would have expected.

  When thought about logically, I should be glad about it – dealing with resentment between two groups would probably be far more difficult than the current situation. Unless they’re just sublimating their feelings and that will lead to them exploding at some inconvenient moment, of course. Still, that’s one reason I decided to make the offer of going to my den to both groups – it’s only in my interest if the invaders integrate into the current village and start being productive members of society. If it will work to motivate them through showing them the rewards for being cooperative, then I must push my emotional inclinations aside. I can’t afford to cling to my anger, not if it will potentially damage my people.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Similar conversations to that between Dusty and Earth-shaper happen with quiet clicks as those in the know share their excitement with those not. I doubt making progress was on the invaders’ minds the last time they visited my den, after all.

  It doesn’t take too long for all the Pathwalkers to get started. The Earth-Shapers pair off with the Plant-Shapers, evidently deciding that working on multiple houses at the same time is the best option while several of the others go to help River. I leave it up to them – now that they’re focussed elsewhere and the shelters are being created, I might be able to focus on what I wanted to achieve – finding some way of creating concrete or something similar enough to it. I move off to the side so that I’m not in the way of those now eagerly getting started, the enthusiasm of the local Pathwalkers apparently infecting the newcomers.

  Thinking about it, even if I can’t manage cement and therefore concrete, there might be something else I can try. Lime mortars were in use for many hundreds of years on Earth, and it seems on Nicholas’ world too. in addition to knowledge from secondary school about how the Victorians used to have pits where they transformed limestone to quicklime by heating it – much like I was inadvertently doing with my use of lava right on my limestone fellapodil trap – I have memories of how to mix quicklime with sand to create a basic mortar. While it’s not as good as cement, it’s better than plain clay or mud. Perhaps working out how to create large quantities of limestone – or better, quick lime directly – is a better use of my time than trying to recreate cement itself.

  I could create limestone directly – I still remember how to do that even though there are no examples of stalactites or stalagmites nearby to copy. But I sense that it would help me to increase my understanding of what goes on when I manipulate the earth in the first place.

  Leaving my stool behind, I sit on the ground and dig my hands into the earth, rubbing the fragments of soil between my fingers, feeling its grainy texture as fragments fall back to the earth and become one with it again.

  Closing my eyes, I sink my mind into the earth along with my magic. I touch the steady calmness of the earth’s fabric, its reliable presence, its patient forbearance of all those which tread upon its surface. It is an immense whole, every piece of earth somehow connected to every other piece of earth – even the deepest river or sea has a river- or sea-bed of earth.

  Yet at the same time, it is made of utterly tiny fragments. The soil I’m rubbing so meditatively between my fingers is composed of tiny bits of rock and decayed vegetative matter. Rock which was scoured by the wind, beaten by the rain, and baked by the sun until it broke away from the cliff-face. There, even more weathering occurred, bits of itself falling away and being broken down into smaller and smaller particles.

  The biggest became sand. Others were broken further until they became silt and even clay particles. And at the same time, they were mixed with leaves from trees that were eaten by fungus and bacteria until they decayed into tiny fragments of nutrient-rich matter. Animals walked over this ground too, dropping fragments of their bodies and leaving deposits of their waste that joined the fragments of leaves and trees.

  So many lifecycles went into creating this soil beneath my feet, turning bare rock into fertile growth. Once, it was part of the forests, its body supporting trees and undergrowth, bushes and vines. And then the samurans came and cut down the trees, cleared away the bushes, and trod the ground with their feet until nothing could grow in its beaten-down state. But all it would take would be time and water and this clearing would be transformed back into forest.

  Just like the ash-field which, once grey and barren, is now green and colourful as the spring flowers bloom. Saplings are already poking their way through the undergrowth at the edges of the clearing and within a few years will become young trees, the forest taking over once more.

  I marvel at the way plants and earth interact, plants tearing up the earth and drinking deeply of its nutrients, and then, when they die, feeding themselves back into it as their bodies press the earth down once more.

  But that, while amazing, is not what I’m trying to do here. But maybe it can help. After all, what is limestone but the accumulated bodies of beasts? Bones that sink to the bottom of a sea bed and are compressed? That might appear more like Flesh-Shaping than Earth-Shaping, but is it? When the chemical composition is the same? When all that stands between Flesh and Earth is time?

  Reaching into my Inventory, I pull out a number of bones, then press them together, feeding in my mana to try to find the mineral I’m looking for – calcium carbonate. And then once I’ve found it, extract it directly, skipping the many eons of pressure and slow chemical change. My eyes are closed, but my magical senses are fully open as I work.

  And then, like something snaps into place, it works. The bones before me condense into a hard, white mass, dust blowing away in the wind – everything other than the calcium carbonate I was looking for. A breakthrough dances on the tip of my tongue, a sense of how Flesh-Shaping and Earth-Shaping are somehow connected at a basic level.

  Markus? The voice breaks my concentration. My sense of inspiration, that ephemeral glimpse of understanding beyond my own knowledge disappearing like a feather on the breeze.

  I look up, immense frustration running through me. I was just about to get it! I know I was! The speaker steps back, nervousness spiking at me through the Bond. I school my expression and my emotions both, only now realising just how dark it’s getting. A look up at the sky reveals that it’s not because it’s already dinner time, but because thick grey clouds have formed above us, blocking the sun and the mountain peaks from our view. The storm is building.

  I turn my attention back to the one who hailed me.

  “Yes, Dusty?”

  We’re done. Can we go to the den now? Her nervousness gone, she practically vibrates in excitement. I smile.

  “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but all five shelters need to be constructed before anyone can go,” I remind her. Perhaps they misunderstood me. She emanates confusion.

  They are all done.

  I frown in confusion myself, and then turn to look. My eyebrows change direction and rise into my hairline at the sight of several shelters now rising high above any of the other huts of the village. How long was I in a trance? I push myself to my feet to inspect them for myself using both magic and physical senses.

  Sure enough, there are five shelters present, each about five metres in diameter and circular. Their roofs are domes of earth with shingles attached to the roots holding the dried clay-like mud together firmly. I approve – they should resist the water of storms even better than the traditional build. And if a few shingles are ripped away, it’s not the end of the world.

  I look inside – at the single solid piece of wood which offers a roof to the room below and a floor to the room above – and sense the roots which grow through the slightly angled walls of the hut, offering a firm structure which is sure to last a hundred storms. It’s technically only a single-storey above the ground but, combined with the below-ground accommodation, will work well.

  Inspecting the other four, finding them to be just as good as the first, I congratulate the Pathwalkers.

  “You’ve all done an excellent job. You’ve well-earned your reward. But make sure you’re back here in time for dinner and the council meeting!” I call as they grunt loudly in excitement and take off for the mountainside gate, the newcomers quickly following the locals.

  Seeing the camaraderie between them, I have to shake my head in disbelief. I still don’t understand they can just get over the fact that half the samurans were trying to capture the other half so recently. Still shaking my head, I go to find Hunter – we need as many of her rune-inscribed lights as possible.

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