The Merciless Alpha(erotica)

“I don’t have years for this! I need to learn fast. I need to be ready when the shadow elves return.” I insisted.

Driveal’s brow furrowed, “The learning of magic is the task of a lifetime. It is years of debate and learning of the moral and ethical implications, not to mention learning theory and the weavings of the planes before you can even consider casting spells. It takes at least fifty years to even reach the most basic of spells.”

I grit my teeth, “No wonder your people are losing this war. Do all elves move at this snail’s pace?”

“Snail’s pace? I thought you were mature. How old are you? Three hundred? Four?” Driveal teased.

“I am twenty-six years old.” I snapped.

“Ha! Good jest.” He chuckled.

I just met his gaze.

“… good…. jest… by the gods! You aren’t joking, are you?” He realized, his eyes widening.

“My people age much faster than yours. Before the age of twenty we are considered adults. By thirty most of us are married and having kids if we’re going to. In our sixties the majority of our lives are spent and we retire to spend the twilight of our lives attempting to relax and find peace before we pass. Those who reach a hundred years old are considered ancient.” I informed the gaping elf. “I was told that my life here would be lengthened beyond normal for my people, but don’t go telling me to spend the equivalent of half my life, double what it took me to get the skills and talents I have now, discussing ‘theories’ and ‘abstracts’. I understand the morals, the ethics of such powerful tools. Every tool has its price. But I am willing to pay a hefty price if it means Narusil and my other matrons get to live in peace. I may have only just arrived, but I’ll be damned if I let this place fall under my watch.” I snapped.

Driveal’s eyebrows rose, “My my…. ” He rested his chin on his hand. “Such fire… though perhaps it is what we need. Kathra pushes her soldiers hard, she’d have a battle every month if they could manage, perhaps your haste is indeed needed. I can teach you the base concepts that will be utilized in your magic, but… I have never been trained for a battlefield. My magics are educational, philosophical, and practical for everyday life. Narusil could teach you more refined combat magic.”

His face clouded, clearly deep in thought. I could tell he was bothered by my response. I didn’t care. One of my matrons… my wifes…. was pregnant, that kind of thing changed you. I’d seen elves that looked just like my matrons get slaughtered, stuck by wyvern tails, cut down by shadow elves, and I was not about to let that happen to them. Maybe it was the fact that they were the first lovers I’d had that weren’t just in it for quick fun. Maybe it was the fact that they were the first females I’d even thought about, and now was, having children with, but I was more emotionally invested with them than I had been in a long time. I was a patriot back home, happy to give my life to keep my country safe, but this was more personal. It wasn’t horizon to horizon and beyond filled with strangers, the elven city was small, with a population small enough that with any decent time here I’d learn each elf by name. Each and every one was depending on me. I knew they would be killed, their culture extinct without me, the angel had told me so.

I also knew that the last thing I wanted was for this to be a narrow victory. I wanted to save as many elves as possible. I hoped Driveal could accept that.

Driveal seemed to come to a decision. “If you are skipping all the lessons usually leading up to learning the application of magic, there are still a few things you must know.” He lifted his hands and with a word and a series of finger motions nine symbols floated in the air: a fist, a circle with a rune, a skull, a flame, an eye, a brain, a swirling mist, a shield, and a face half man and half beast. “There are nine classes of magic. Augmentation…” The fist rose and flashed, “… Conjuration…” The circle responded. “… Destruction…” The flame. “… Divination…” The eye. “… Domination…” The brain. “… Illusion…” The mist. “… Interjection…” The shield. “… Transformation…” The changing face. “… and Dark magic.” The skull.NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

“Each type of magic accomplishes its objective. Augmentation increases your abilities without changing your nature. Conjuration calls or sends creations to do its work. Destruction magic strikes foes with the elements. Divination allows you to see things you otherwise wouldn’t. Domination changes or controls the minds of others. Illusion makes things seem as they aren’t. Interjection protects, interrupts and counters other magics. Transformation changes one thing to another. And… Dark magic…” he hesitated, “Dark magic channels the powers of death, to kill, to weaken and cripple, or to make the dead walk and obey your commands.”

I nodded, “Some of those seem far more useful than others. Like, besides pretty displays of lights, what use does illusion have?”

Driveal smiled, “Illusion was what let me show you what was inside Tavorwen. It can be used to check for injuries, to mislead opponents and even to become imperceptible to your foe.”

I nodded in concession.

“The most powerful illusionists can create images so powerful and terrifying they overload the mind and cause the death of the viewer.” Driveal explained, “Or invoke images so believable they harm the subject.”

Like psychosomatic effects? I wondered. Beliefs so intense that they affected your body because you believed them?

“But every magic is limited by the mental capacity of the caster. Utilizing magic of the highest orders requires time and mastery, as well as reserves of mental energy. Most casters can master one to a greater degree and another to a lesser degree, with only the greatest of mages mastering a third.” Driveal explained. “You will have to choose your mastery, but each has their limitations.”

Driveal waved his hand and the images dispersed like dust in the wind.

“Now, we use words of power, words from the tongues of dragons, archons, and… in some cases… devils… The words give us power to shape the world, but you can’t just go saying whatever you want and doing anything with it. The universe does not bend freely to our will. More often than not attempting to freehand with the language of creation has serious and terrible consequences. And since words power your magic, the reach of your magic is limited to the reach of your voice.”

I tried to accept that, but something didn’t sit right.

“But at the battle with the shadow elves… they threw fire from hundreds of feet in the air! You’re telling me the shadow elves’ voices reached that far?” I challenged.

“Oh-ho! A good observation.” Driveal congratulated me. “Now, did the shadow elves directly cause our forces to catch fire? Or… did they conjure fire well within the reach of their voices and throw it in the direction of our forces?”

I blinked, “That’s… that’s a petty distinction!”

Driveal shook his head, “Not to the magic it isn’t. I’m guessing you saw lightning too. That is a use of destructive magic. However, it utilizes a second technique. The user projects their voice in a line, and the air and anything caught in its path is blasted with the lightning. Now, since the sound precipitates the lightning, it can be blocked or countered. This is a primary example of the exchange of spellcasters in battle. There is always a tradeoff, either your spell is slow enough it can be blocked, or short range enough that you are at risk by enemy troops. And since most spellcasters tend to devote every moment they have to study, they rarely have time to keep up on their… physical capabilities.”

I rubbed my thumb on the stubble on my chin, it had started to grow since I’d arrived. Many of the men in my platoon had grown out beards when we’d been deployed. You were only viewed as a man if you had a beard. I had tried to leave most of the interacting to the others, I hated the itching and could never get past that phase to grow it out. This was about as long as I ever let it get.

“Now it sounded like personal aptitude plays a major role in what classes of magic you should specialize in.” I noted. “Is that right?”

Driveal shook his head. “For the vast majority of spellcasters, the difference in their aptitude levels is so minute that it is near impossible to even determine. There are the rare individuals with immense talent in one or two classes of magic, like Narusil. She is a one in a thousand spellcaster for interjection and destructive magics. Her level of aptitude with these types of magic puts her on level with mages who have studied these magics for hundreds of years more than her…. It is just a pity that, when she would need to actually use those skills…. She freezes. Interjection magic can have great value for an enchanter…. One who has learned to use magic through runes and other means to permanently instill the effects of spells onto a physical item… but Narusil has no talent for enchantment. When attempting to imbue her interjection and destruction magic into items, the differences in how you cast and how you have to think about the magic is so wrong to her that she is worse even then her peers that have only minimally studied the field of her expertise.”

He sat back, “She visited me… after she was stripped of her position… To apologize for being born. She said that had she not been born perhaps an actually useful elf would have taken her place. I told her that the Great Father has a plan for us all. His Matrons would not have sent her spirit to a mortal vessel at this time were there no use for her.”

I was so sad for Narusil, and I knew even now doubts plagued her. She was happy where she was, and I was guessing she’d be very happy to learn that she was with child, but I knew the doubts she had voiced at the congress of maidens would not be so easily cast aside, even once she learned she was pregnant.

“So how does one discover if they have magical aptitude?” I refocused.

“Well, usually the quick understanding of the concepts related to that class of magic is the quickest indicator. Can you believe it? Narusil only took seven years to fully understand the nature of destructive magic! And another eight for interjective magic! Fifteen years! That’s half that of your average elf! I was so proud of her.” Driveal declared his chest swelling with emotion.