“Give it a try,” Narusil instructed, and I couldn’t help but notice her brace herself in her protective runes.
That wasn’t helping.
I took the stance she had. Point fingers, pinky fingers, and thumbs touching, other fingers curled, I began to imagine the electrons in the air in front of me, and I imagined my will… which was always a golden beam in my mind for some reason… I imagined my will forming two hands, one for electrons and one for the rest of the atoms’ bits. I picked a target and focusing on the center of the target, I pulled my hands apart, surprised to feel a tension trying to keep my hands together.
Again, following her form made me feel like a cartoon character from something like The Last Airbender, or one of those stupid animes that I’d seen bits of here or there, but as I was casting a fucking spell… I guess that was more or less what I was. At least the world wasn’t animated.
I stretched my hands apart, twisting into something like a karate pose.
I could feel the strain, like a muscle I rarely used but in my head, and I struggled to keep my focus.
“Likra saif,” I repeated, twisting my wrist like Narusil had and imagining the lightning, snapping to the target like a released rubber band.
“CRACK!!!”
What shot from the air in front of my forward hand to smash against my target was not a little jolt of energy, it wasn’t a spark, it was a BOLT, like lighting in a storm but horizontal.
“… ow…” I noted.
My fingers were definitely singed. My two fingers that had been curled only had the burnt remnants of the hair that grew on them.
“That was…” Amura noted.
“Yes… a direct hit.” Narusil acknowledged.
It was hard not to acknowledge. The target had a hole, the size of a soda can where the bullseye had been, small flames flickering on the edges. Luckily, that didn’t seem enough to destroy the target and after remaining a blasted floating wood ring for long enough we all could gawk properly, it returned to its state as a solid disk.
“… Master, you confuse me,” Narusil admitted, walking over to Amura. “You have a raw power that defies all we know about the fundamentals of magic but seem incapable of casting magic on a reasonable and usable scale. You can aim the most erratic of magics that our most capable struggle to have passing accuracy with, but can barely keep easier-to-aim spells on the target. Your magic is unstable and unpredictable, but also… reliably over powerful and destructive, which is hard to say is bad for a warrior, but could have unintended consequences on a battlefield.”
She leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor next to Amura and pulled her knees to her chest.
“You have so far to go and so much to learn, and I am not perm-… it would not be wise of me to leave Ealphamir with you.” She lamented. “I… fear I am failing you.”
“Absolutely not.” I retorted. “We are just in unknown territory. I’m learning and I’d like to think I’m making progress.”
“But… you should be better prepared! You leave so soon, and… a good teacher would have you properly prepared.” She declared.
“Narusil, you’ve only had a couple of days! I think you’ve done amazing! I’m casting spells… that was an impossibility, a wish of creative minds where I’m from… something I never thought I’d do, and here I am, casting spells entirely because of your guidance.” I reassured her.
It was hard to read Amura’s expression, but Narusil had to wipe a tear away.
“You’re right. It just feels… I can’t have you go off and have…. I can’t be alone again.” Narusil sniffed.
“Not gonna happen.” I tried to assure her.
Of course, that’s what I’d thought before an RPG turned me into a pink mist back on Earth.
It took some effort to help her calm down, but eventually, I helped her stabilize. We returned home and Diamiutar met us at the door.
“Oh, good! The Notice of Schedule just arrived moments ago, and the discussion on diplomatic relations is to begin within minutes. Here, I packed you a quick lunch. Tavorwen and Creadean are prepared to accompany you. Go!” She urged, handing me a small basket as my battle matrons rose to follow.
The four of us hurried across Ealphamir, arriving at the amphitheater of the Council just in time to be ushered into some seats just outside a hallway that was concealed behind some of the seating, but opened into the central platform of the amphitheater. I finished up what was essentially a flatbread sandwich that Diamiutar had prepared for me as we waited. Tavorwen took the basket, and with a twist and push it compacted and she stowed it.
The Council was clearly wrapping up their discussions on the previous topic.
“Then it is settled, on a vote of 23 to 13, we will begin seeking to acquire more raw iron and seek to reopen the Mythril mine. This matter is concluded.” Audriul declared, and though I couldn’t see her, there was a sound like a bell or something being struck.
There was some shuffling and a door somewhere closed.
“Next, a request by our summon, Master Thomas Nord. Floorkeeper, has the petitioner arrived to state their case?” Audriul inquired.
“They have.” The elf who had led us into the hall declared.
“Bring them forth.” Audriul requested.
We were led from the hallway into the main platform and to an empty bench on one side.
“Before the petitioner states their case, have all present been able to familiarize themselves with the request?” Audriul verified.
Two staves and a blade were lifted high as heads were nodded.
“As High Elder, I acknowledge Pevein Bladehand. You may speak.” Audriul declared.
The blade-bearing elder stood. “I must object to the proposed action. For years we ruled over our sister bloodlines and did so with a just and even hand. A hundred and fifty years ago, we lost many lives to them before their betrayal opened the way for the Kathra and her ilk to emerge and further the slaughter. We have lost far too many of our daughters and sisters to their treachery, I cannot and will not support the idea of turning to them and relying on them at this time. We must learn from the mistakes of our past, and not place ourselves in a position to suffer the consequences even further. Who is to say that even if they help us overthrow Kathra and her legions, they won’t just turn around and stab our exposed backs?”
A rumble passed through the group, and I could tell there was a bit of salt being rubbed in old wounds.
“Your words have been heard. Qualin Windreader? You are hereby acknowledged. Speak your peace.” Audriul moved on.
A staff-bearing elder, with the figure of one who had never borne children, rose, and her garb and the symbols hanging at her waist identified her as a priestess.
“Sisters, we have long been trusted with the position and authority over our sister tribes. But as our sisters rebelled against us, so two they rebelled against our gods. We cannot trust them and they must be brought back under our authority and taught the consequences of rebelling against the gods and against us. Until the proper reparations have been made and the rest of the children of our gods have properly sworn allegiance, I do not support any actions reaching out to them for support.” The elder priestess declared.
More rumbles bounced around the chamber.
I wanted to stand and yell, but I’d been in leadership enough to know that an outburst from me wouldn’t help here. I had to play by the rules for a bit and let them spout their drivel, then I’d get to tear them a new one when my turn came.
“Still yourselves, sister. There is much to be heard. Your words have been heard. Weilkeir Stoneguard, as High Elder I acknowledge you. Speak.” Aundriul declared.
The second elder who had raised her staff stood. If I was reading her garb correctly, she was not a priest, but a mage. She had a tome of magic at her waist, no religious symbols and runes lined her staff and belt.
“Sisters, there have been good arguments laid out by both of my sisters. We cannot allow the treachery and betrayal of those we once called sisters to go unpunished, but there is a singular simple reason I vote this proposal should be dismissed. Wood elves, we have called ourselves. Have we forgotten that this name is not who we are? We are the High Elves! Chosen by the gods themselves to lead. We are the high elves not due to elevation, or the Cloud elves would bear that title. We are the High Elves because we have been set above and acknowledged as the superior bloodline of Elves.” The Elder declared. “We are strong, and, with the aid of our summon, we need not rely on the lesser peoples. The very idea is an insult to who and what we are, by an outsider who understands neither our heritage nor our capabilities. I reject the idea of its necessity or benefits.”
I could feel the energy in the room, and I didn’t like it one bit.
“Silence,” Aundriul called, stifling the murmurs.
“We will now allow the petitioner to present his case. Master Thomas, I acknowledge you as the High Elder. Speak.” She declared.
I took a deep breath. Fuck. I hated public speaking, but I had done it before and I would do it again.
“Elders, I hear your objections.” I began. “But I am disgusted by what I hear. Is this your idea of leadership? Demands for reparations, demands for subjugation, and declarations of racial superiority? Do you claim to know every aspect of why your fellow elves turned against you? Did a great battle occur? Yes. Were there losses by the High Elves? Yes. Do you know who else suffered losses? Every single one of the other elves. But do none of you find it suspicious that the moment the battle began to wind down, Kathra and her forces were able to emerge from supposed isolation deep in the earth? How did they know when to emerge? How did they know everyone would be vulnerable?” I pressed.