The metal deadbolt box sits open on the floor in front of me, only the yellow cloth inside. I look around for the ingot but can’t locate it. A brief glimpse of black flashes past my periphery and I look down to see that my hands have turned into the void color of the ingot. Faelynn bursts into the room and grabs my shoulders only to be absorbed into the black void color that’s spreading through my body. Once it’s up to her elbows she lets out an ear piercing scream – I bolt upright, sound still escaping my lips. It was I that was screaming.
I’m covered in cold sweat and look at my hands. Normal hands. No void. Check. I look around to get my bearings. I’m in the living room that was previously filled with magic items, now emptied of them save one or two. I’m laying in the hammock I spotted earlier. The side opposite the bar is near missing an entire wall save a narrow railing that I don’t think I’ll trust my weight on and is open to the view of the forest below if the forest itself weren’t obscured by the rain-forest-esque torrential downpour.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Faelynn tips her glass of light blue liquid my way before taking a sip.
I try speaking only to find my mouth full of cotton and my voice weak and raspy. “Waa-teer,” I finally whisper croak out.
Faelynn gets out another (magic)glass and pours an amber liquid into it. The bottom of the glass glows briefly and the amber liquid turns to light blue to match hers and she walks it over to me.
I reach out to grab it and am surprised to find that it’s cold. Very cold. Well, so much for my resolve. I knock the liquid back and chug like I’m back in college. It tastes foul. Almost like if you mixed cough syrup with rubbing alcohol. I surprisingly feel much better. The cobwebs in my throat are gone and my head no longer feels sluggish.
“What is this?” I whisper croak out. Cobwebs are gone, but I guess it didn’t heal it.
“Mana spirits. You kind of donated all of your mana back there.”
“Donated? What metal was that?” I ask attempting to swing my feet over the side of the hammock. I feel like a patient that just got out of surgery and move slowly as I’m not sure if my body will support my weight.
“Orichalcum. Holds enchantments like no other material and is bar none the strongest metal and best substance for enchanting,” she said giving her glass a swirl.
“Sounds too good to be true. What are the drawbacks?” I ask while placing an experimental foot onto the floor that is met with pins and needles.
“Ultra rare, prohibitively expensive, and notoriously hard to smith. In fact, I’d say it’s nigh on impossible to smith without a dwarf,” she replies instantly.
“Guess that’s why not everyone is walking around in it,” I flop back onto the hammock. “Did I ruin it? I remember it turning clear.”
She snorts, “Far from it. Opposite of ruined, actually. It absorbs mana from anyone that touches it and it keeps that mana until it’s enchanted.”
“Ah. So I’ve just charged it and now it’s ready to be smithed,” I go silent for a moment and think, “How come it was fully black, then? Wouldn’t you give it small doses here and there until you had fully charged it?”
“Al...how long was your finger on the ingot?”
“I dunno, maybe ten seconds or so? Why?”
“It was less than two seconds. When I said that it’s fatal, I meant it. There was a very real possibility that you would die there.”
“Then why did you push for it? Were you trying to kill me?” I raise my voice a little and it cracks from the effort.
“My plan was that if you lost consciousness while still touching it then your hand would fall away from you and you would simply be drained of mana but alive. I could then feed you mana spirits,” at that she held up her glass and swirled, “until you were fine again. If I were to attempt that alone, there is the possibility that I would not fall away from the ingot. There also wouldn’t be anyone there to nurse me back to health afterward.”
“Ah. Sorry. Guess all these brand new near deaths are catching up to me,” I reply thoroughly rebutted, “Did we at least find out what attribute I am? What does clear represent?”
“Honestly? No idea!” she finishes what was in her glass and slams it down on the bar and opens the bottle to pour another. “I can’t exactly go ask the elders of my clan and I’m actually scared Thavim would attempt to steal the ingot if I question him on it. He’s an honest enough fellow, but that single ingot could buy the entire city where he lives and all the land surrounding that mountain.”
“If I had to guess,” she continues, “I’d say all of them or none of them – as in magic just won’t work on you, so you’d be the anti-magic attribute I guess.”
“Hopefully finding out won’t be life threatening,” I groan while staring at the ceiling.
“Oh! I have just the test for that. Sit up and hold out your finger, the one we cut,” she says as she opens a drawer and rummages around for a moment before finding what she was after and slams it shut. That’s gotta be her equivalent of a junk drawer.
As I’m sitting up I watch her slip a golden ring(!) with an emerald set in it. I hold out my finger and she holds her hand over it and recites something in her leaf-language. The emerald glows briefly and the cut on the finger itches as it mends itself closed.
“One mystery solved! You’re not anti-magic!” she holds her glass in the air and twirls with a woop before bouncing down beside me on the hammock. “Honestly, that’s for the best. You’d have a hard life if all you could do was pick out magic items but never use them.” She finishes her glass once again and falls back onto the hammock, “Kind of like being a servant at a banquet. All of that delicious food that you’re never allowed to taste.” Each of her words grew smaller throughout her sentence and she was asleep almost before she finished.
I don’t really trust my legs at the moment and I’m still fatigued from the whole ordeal so I just laid back down next to her and quickly drifted off as well.
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The next three days consist of nothing but learning letters and languages. She is still scared that I am low on mana and is avoiding further magic training until she thinks it safe. With the number of times I’d nearly died since learning magic existed, I’m in full agreement. I’m still seven. There’s time enough to at least ensure I won’t die in the attempt to learn magic. Right?
The magic book and quill that she brought to my room that day also use magic so you’d think she’d be against those, but I guess convenience trumps worries. The quill never requires ink as long as you supply it mana and the writing in the book fades away once you write a large ‘X’ on the page. Super useful for things like practicing handwriting and memorizing verb tenses in other languages. I’ve been mentally calling the magic book my own ‘personal whiteboard.’
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
I’m now learning dwarvish, elven, and common. None of which are even remotely close to my native language of english but alas! Maybe this means that I can encrypt my notes in the future! Muahahahaha! The idea that I have notes the could warrant an encryption is exciting all by itself. Although, I suppose my powers could be considered encryption-worthy. If noone else on...Earth? What do I call this planet? If noone else here has these abilities, it will definitely be best to keep them under wraps. Which also means I definitely should not be writing about them. Oh the conundrum.
Faelynn raps me on the side of the head, “Stop daydreaming.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I mumble and get back to practicing handwriting.
“I swear, sometimes you act like a normal child and others you act as if you’re past your prime and ready to retire.”
I say nothing and hope I have a convincing poker face.
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On the fourth day she finally relents to do some magic training! Woot! So I’ve used magic items now, the book and quill, but those are passive draw items. They take mana from you to do their job rather than requiring me to donate mana to activate them; I was never technically in charge of them. But I am now familiar with the feeling of mana being drawn from me. Perhaps that can be harnessed!
I’m now wearing that same golden ring with the emerald that she healed me with on my other thumb and Faelynn’s sat me down in front of a bunch of pots with soil and handed me seeds.
“Shove one of the seeds into the soil and channel your mana into the emerald. Then attempt to direct that at the seed that you know is in the soil,” she grabs my shoulder and turns me to look her in the eye. I’ve come to recognize this as how she gives warnings for things that are or can be dangerous. “Do not attempt to make the seed grow in your hand. The roots will dig into your palm, down your arm and suck you dry. Also, do not grow the seed on the floor. I like the floor how it is and refuse to spend the next decade to coax a new sapling to move out. Grow them in soil. Only.”
“In soil only. Got it,” I repeat quickly as I excitedly turn back to the pots of dirt. I know I’m acting a little childish here, but I can’t help it! I’m about to do real magic! Maybe. I don’t have the chants that she uses so we’re really just throwing things at the wall to see what sticks. And her assumption is that if I don’t need incantations for appraisal, then I also won’t need them for other things.
I take one of the seeds and look at it, “what kind of seeds are these, anyway?” I ask.
“Mint,” she replies. “If it fails, it’s not a huge loss, and if it’s a success we can have a nice tea! But also it’s not a plant that I’m terribly worried about growing too quickly. If I had given you an oak seed and you gave it too much juice, it could crash through the roof. How do you think the tree we live in got do big?”
“Wait, you made this tree?” I ask momentarily distracted from my own magic.
“That’s right. Each elf from my old clan would have their very own tree to do with as they saw fit. Most made them larger and hollowed out the middle for a little living space, but I’ve always thought that was a little cruel to the tree,” she replied while lovingly stroking the wall that was also part of the tree.
I turn my attention back to the pots and seeds before me. I take one seed and shove it into the dirt of the first pot and think for a moment. If my aim is off, isn’t there a possibility that I could make the ones sitting on the floor next to me grow instead of this one? Or both at once? Hmm. I’ll just prep them all just in case. I shove each seed into the dirt of their respective pots and try to focus.
Remember how it felt when the quill refilled itself. When the book erased the page. That tiny little tug that those gave? Give that to the emerald. And now aim that emerald at the seed. Oh, the dirt moved! Look a single leaf! I turn around to face Faelynn who’s sitting on a chair behind me. I’m grinning from ear to ear.
“I did it! I used magic!” I shout excitedly.
“Too weak,” she rebuffs me immediately, a slight grimace on her face. “You didn’t put enough power into it. Plants aren’t meant to grow so fast and forcing them to do so sends them into a temporary state of shock. You have to ensure they’re strong enough to survive the shock and that one isn’t. Try again with the next one.”
Okay, the amount the book and quill took wasn’t enough to ensure the plant stays alive. What if I go for broke? I imagine the feeling of the orichalcum ingot taking mana from me and reverse that into the emerald. The entire ring grows hot on my finger just before I aim it at the second pot and release. The pot makes a loud cracking noise and mint leaves spring into existence. I take a closer look to figure out what happened with the cracking sound.
The clay pot actually exploded but no pieces of it went flying past because the roots grew faster than the explosion and caught the clay fragments midair. The diameter of the bottom of that pot is a full foot wider than it had been only moments before. I don’t even bother to turn around this time. I figure I’m in the Goldilocks zone now. I use about a quarter as much power for this third one as I did for the second. The mint leaves dutifully sprout forth and only a single hairline fracture appears on the side of this clay pot. I turn to Faelynn with a smile.
“Well done Al. Hand me that ring please?” she asks while holding out my hand.
I slip it off and place it in her palm. She slides it back onto her finger and goes to the first plant. She places her hand over it, then places that same hand on my forehead.
My body seizes up. Every muscle is in pain. Everything hurts. I’m unable to even scream from the pain, but my eyes and ears are working fine.
“This is the pain that this failed attempt is going through. Plants feel pain, Al,” she says quietly. Sadly. “Elves are attuned to plants much like this but on a larger scale. Think entire forests rather than single houseplants.”
“This is why, Al. This is why the elves have gone to war against the humans. This is the pain we feel each time they decide to build a new house. This is what we feel each time their towns need to expand and the forest is in the way.” She pauses for a long moment while I writhe in silent agony.
“I may not be obligated to uphold their values, but it’s not like I don’t understand where they’re coming from.” She pauses again and turns to me with a tear in her eye, “And you should learn it as well. You’re likely going to be very powerful.” The pain starts to fade.
“Powerful enough, I think, to stop this war. With the victor being the side of your choosing. But before you do that, before you leave here, you should learn a small fraction of torture we have endured to indulge humans their creations.” The pain is all but gone now.
She sniffles for a moment longer. “I’ll take care of this little one. It may be saved yet. You can go practice languages.”
I head to my room and regroup on what just happened. Okay, she wants to 1. make sure I see where the elves are coming from and 2. carve a little bit of empathy for them into me before powering me up and releasing me into the world.
I understand what she’s doing, but I’m still a little mad at it. At no point did she warn me of failure resulting in death for the plant and pain for both her and I. Wouldn’t I have just worked a little harder to minimize those possibilities? Maybe she’s got her own prejudice against humans to work through but she’s certainly not winning any awards with me.
I decide I’m too angry to study and just lay down to take a nap and hopefully calm down about what just happened. As I’m staring at the ceiling, I take a few deep breaths. Maybe the seeds were like her little siblings. Then why would she entrust me with that? I can only conclude that it was all for the lesson. All to make sure I was aware of what the plants we trample go through and how the elves go through it too. I fall into a restless sleep.
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The next couple of days I spend studying languages again. I haven’t touched the gold ring with the green emerald since and Faelynn seems content in pretending nothing’s happened. I’m still a little angry and am all but resigned to teach myself once I’ve soaked up enough of the languages. Books can take you pretty far in life, after all.
Eventually Faelynn decides she needs to drip feed me magic again. I’m convincing myself that she’s going slow on purpose to ensure she can keep me contained for as long as possible.
“Hey, Al, let’s learn some more magic today.” I show absolutely no reaction. “Aww, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited to learn more magic! You were all smiles last time!”
“Just to be clear, you’re talking about the time you tortured me for failing, right? That time?” I respond in monotone.
“Oh don’t be such a baby!” she says in mock exasperation.
“I’m seven. Aside from that, when did you warn me of the repercussions that failure would bring?” I paused for a moment before continuing, “You didn’t. You unilaterally crowned yourself judge, jury, and executioner. Is this indicative of your entire race? Is this why the elves have vowed to exterminate the human race? Because they can’t hold a fucking conversation?” Okay, maybe I’m angrier than I thought.
“And with the new magic today – for which part of it were you going to blame the failures of humans on me? Which part were you prepared to torture a child for?” She remains silent.
Whelp, this seems to be a thoroughly burnt bridge. I take off the featherfalling ring she gave me the first day and set it on the floor and leave the treehouse. Not only does she not say anything but also doesn’t stop me. The back of my mind knows this is an impulsive and stupid decision and it knows that it’s going to be a rough couple of days as I descend the steps to the forest floor. The rest of my brain doesn’t care.