by Liam Lawson
Well he was embarrassed too. And he shared her concern. This project was a significant portion of their grade and he’d essentially blown it.
“I have no idea what happened,” Trorm said, looking at a fixed point above her head. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze, but he would not allow himself to lower his eyes.
She reached out and put a hand on his arm. The touch caught him off guard and he glanced down. She was blushing. Nothing changed on the status window provided by his sunglasses. She was biting her lower lip. What was he missing? He glanced back at her status window. Her interest level had increased since he’d last checked. Not that he checked often.
As useful as his sunglasses were, that particular aspect seemed slightly more invasive than necessary. Originally the sunglasses were intended to help people who were on the spectrum recognize emotions. They’d been broken, then repaired by Abigail, who had included several “upgrades.” Why she’d felt the need to use the sunglasses to turn his life into a dating sim, he had no idea and hadn’t gotten around to asking Abigail about. In light of her recent night terrors, it seemed unimportant.
She withdrew her hand, blush deepening. He must have been supposed to say something. “Need a hand with those books?”
She blinked. SURPRISED. “Um, okay.” PLEASED.
What was she pleased about? He reached over and took her bulging satchel. Her entire posture shifted, and she stood up a little straighter. He supposed that to her it must have been an incredibly heavy load.
They strode from the classroom and made their way across campus toward her apartment. “I owe you an apology,” Trorm said after several moments of walking in silence. “You and Tibbs both.”
“Oh,” Nymal said. That had apparently not been what she’d been expecting him to say.
“I have no idea what happened up there,” he admitted. “I just, froze.”
“Stage fright,” Nymal said, nodding. “It happens.”
Stage fright? Was that it? It seemed so pathetic compared to everything he’d faced and been through. It raised a terrifying question. As the Arcane Advisor to the leader of the Glorious Horde, the position he aspired to fill when his eldest brother claimed his position of leadership, Trorm would be expected to give the occasional speech and more than the occasional presentation. If he could not manage a simple class exercise, how in the frozen hells was he supposed to do his job?
“I put both of your grades at risk,” he said. “I directed our project into an area neither of you were fully comfortable with and then failed to provide the support you needed.”
“You’ve been plenty supportive, Trorm,” Nymal said, drawing his eye.
She was looking at the ground so he could not see her face, but the tips of her pointed ears were crimson. “You know, I think I owe you an apology too.”
She did? That was news to him.
“That day, when I was attacked and you rescued me,” she said. “I…I was so…I’d never had an outlet before. Not a real one. I mean, sure, online, but you know, it’s always different in real life.”
He didn’t know, actually. In point of fact, he had no idea what she was talking about.
“When you found me, I was beyond mortified. I was also relieved. And I definitely overshared,” she said. “I told you things that I’d never told anyone, intimate stuff, because you were available. Because I felt like I was going to explode. We didn’t know each other, I hadn’t been nice to you, and I put you in an awkward position.”
“Ah,” Trorm said, suddenly comprehending. That had been the day he’d discovered Nymal’s secret after a doppelganger had broken into her apartment and taken her prisoner while dressed in her girl clothes.
“I keep expecting you to ask me questions or make something about it,” she said. “And you’ve been…well, you’ve been the most supportive person in my life, which is sweet, but also kind of sad.”
“I’m sure you’ve had people more supportive than me around,” Trorm said, trying to think of how he’d been supportive. As far as he knew, the only thing he’d done was go about business as usual.
“You gave me the courage to come out,” Nymal said. “And I’ve seen you with other girls, you don’t treat me any different than you do them. That means a lot.”
“Tibbs treats you like other girls,” Trorm said.
Nymal rolled her eyes. “I make him uncomfortable. Besides, he doesn’t do friendship with girls.”
“He doesn’t?” Trorm asked.
“Puh-lease. You’ve seen the bevvy of women he goes through. He doesn’t do girlfriends or friends who are girls. He tolerates me and that’s because of you.”
Trorm had no idea what to say to that. They were almost to her apartment, making their way into the complex and navigating the various buildings. It was quaint and quiet, a place reserved for longtime residents who attended the university and wealthy students.
“How are things with the cheerleader lagothrope?” Nymal asked suddenly.
“Winnie?” Trorm asked. “We’re doing good.” Better than good truth be told. “I’m going to need a part time job though if I want to keep taking her out on dates.” Not that Winnie was needy or expected him to spend money on her. Trorm simply refused to not properly demonstrate his appreciation for her.
“That’s good,” Nymal said. DISAPPOINTMENT.
They rounded a building and reached Nymal’s apartment building. “Forgive me for saying, but that doesn’t strike me as sincere.
Every bit of Nymal’s visible skin turned red. “Uhh…”
“What the frozen hells?”
An elf girl had come away from the apartment. It seemed that she had been waiting at Nymal’s door. She wore a long flowing skirt and tight top, both embroidered with silken birds and flowers. Her brunette hair hung in a loose braid all the way down to her ankles and was woven through with flowers and feathers. She was lithe and beautiful in the way of elven women, smaller than Nymal, which made her positively diminutive before Trorm. From the fiery rage in her eyes, she didn’t seem to notice.
Soliana Miralee
Gender: Female.
Emotion: EMBARASSED. ENRAGED. ASHAMED.
Interest Level: 0
“Nymal?” She said. “Goddess above, that really is you. I didn’t want to believe the rumors.” Tears fell from her eyes.
“Soliana,” Nymal said. Whereas she’d been red before, now she was an unhealthy pale. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I…? Some orc’s turned you into his concubine and you want to know what I’m doing here.”
“It’s not like that,” Nymal and Trorm said simultaneously.
It was apparently the wrong move because Soliana produced a wand, screamed the words to a spell, and let her magic fly at Trorm.
Chapter Three
Trorm got his shield spell up just in time to block the barrage of magical energy, which splashed off harmlessly. Either all of his time practicing that particular spell was paying off, or the elf girl before him wasn’t particularly skilled. Judging by the shocked expression on her face, he was willing to bet it was the latter.
She snarled, swished her wand about, and let fly another barrage. He bolstered his shield spell with a few arcane words and the elf’s spell, if it could be called that, splashed off again in a spectacular but harmless display of light.
Trorm narrowed his eyes. What was this? The spellwork was so amateurish that it was hardly worthy of the term. The elf didn’t seem to actually be casting so much as poorly gathering raw magical energy and throwing it at him. It looked impressive but amounted to the magical equivalent of picking up a rock and throwing it. Honestly, the rock might have been more effective.
Trorm adjusted his grip on his staff and made ready to counter attack. Rage surged through him, fueled by his failure in class. It roared through him like an oil fire and sparks flew from his staff as he raised it.
“No,” Nymal leapt in front of
him. “That’s my sister!”
Trorm cut off the lightning spell, then dropped his staff to grab Nymal and yank her behind his shield spell as yet a third blast of magical energy was hurled at him. With a roar, Trorm cast a new spell he’d been working on. Inspired by their recent conflict with a horde of enemies and their group project, Trorm had been working on layering spells on top of spells, essentially allowing him to effectively cast a spell upon a spell to create a greater effect or an all new one.
His shield spell glowed bright, becoming visible for the first time as it absorbed all of the raw magical and kinetic energy that had been directed at it and flung it back at his attacker. The elf girl was sent flying backward as the collected strength of her attacks was sent back into her. She hit the ground hard and tumbled over backward.
Nymal cursed and ran past Trorm to the elf girl, Soliana, dropping to her knees and helping her up. Soliana was crying. No, not crying. Weeping. Trorm stared. What the frozen hells?
“I didn’t want to believe it,” Soliana screamed. “You really are an orc wh—”
“Don’t you finish that sentence,” Nymal snapped.
Soliana’s mouth clapped shut and she sniffled, tears and snot running freely down her pretty, if now reddened face. A quick once over revealed that the worst that she would have was a bit of bruising. Was she really so weak that she thought she was seriously hurt? No, it seemed more likely that she was upset about something else entirely.
Trorm consulted his sunglasses. ASHAMED. EMBARASSED. ANGRY. SAD.
Helpful, but not as much as he’d hoped. What he really needed was the root cause of those emotions. If Abigail had been able to enchant an item that could figure that out though, she’d be rolling in money and already graduated with a wizarding degree.
“Let’s go inside,” Nymal said, rising to her feet and helping Soliana up as well. “We’re making a scene out here.”
Trorm glanced around and found a small group of neighbors gawking. Great. He could just imagine what the ElfWatch and OrcWatch apps were making of this. He’d be vilified in no time for defending himself.
“I’ll take my leave,” he said. “I seem to be a divisive subject.”
“No!” Nymal rushed from her sister’s side, leaving Soliana gaping. She grabbed his hand in both of hers. “Stay. Please.”
This was a bad idea, Trorm knew. He glanced down at Nymal. DESPERATION. “Alright,” he said. This was a really, really bad idea.
Nymal attached herself to his arm. He could feel her breasts pressing into his bicep and tried to ignore that feeling. “Come on, inside,” Nymal said.
Soliana went with them, eyeing the pair as if they were venomous serpents, stopping only to pick up a backpack that she’d dropped by Nymal’s door. Trorm set Nymal’s satchel down on the kitchen table but held onto his staff when he noticed that Soliana hadn’t put away her wand. He was not about to let this third-rate wannabe wizard sucker punch him with a half-baked spell. It was hard to believe that this girl was related to Nymal given their discrepancy in skill. Then again, he could hardly be one to judge considering the family he came from.
He and Nymal took a seat on the sofa while Soliana sat on the loveseat. Trorm wasn’t sure that their sitting so close together was a good idea. Soliana seemed to be under the impression that they were a couple. More than that, that he was some kind of abuser who’d made Nymal into what she was, ridiculous as that seemed.
“What happened to you, Nymal?” Soliana asked.
“I…” Nymal straightened up and tightened her grip on Trorm’s arm. “I found the courage to be myself.”
“This is not yourself,” Soliana said. “This…this is just what he wants you to be.” She pointed an accusing finger at Trorm. Thankfully it wasn’t the hand holding the wand.
“No! No, I was already going down this path before Trorm saved my life,” Nymal said. Soliana’s hand fell limply to her side and her mouth dropped open. She mouthed the words ‘saved my life,’ as if trying to process them.
“Trorm gave me the courage to come out,” Nymal said. “I’m just being honest about who I am now.”
“Honest?” Soliana said. “So, what? Everything before this was a lie?”
Trorm really thought that he should be somewhere else. He had absolutely no business being a part of this conversation. This was not his business.
“No,” Nymal said. “Don’t be so overdramatic. But I was lying to myself.” She shook her head. “I wish you’d told me you were coming, this was not how I wanted to tell you.”
“Were you ever going to tell me, brother?” Soliana asked, sullenly. Trorm couldn’t help but find her remarkably childish compared to Nymal. It was hard to tell with elves, but he thought that they were about the same age.
“Of course, sister,” Nymal replied. “And I am your sister, not your brother.”
Soliana made a choking sound. “I didn’t want to believe the rumors. I thought…I thought you could help me.”
Trorm raised an eyebrow. This was how she went about asking for help? “Elves have strange customs.”
He knew the instant that he spoke that he should have kept his mouth shut. Soliana glared at him. But Nymal began giggling. That only made Soliana glare harder at him.
“I needed that,” Nymal said, after a moment, wiping away a tear from her eye. “Thank you, Trorm.”
He shrugged and went back to doing his best impersonation of a great green boulder.
“It’s Mom,” Soliana said. “She’s…she’s not just sick, Nymal. She’s dying.”
Nymal blanched. “Ailre’s dying? How?”
Ailre, not Mom? Weren’t they sisters? Odd that Nymal would refer to her own mother by her first name. Trorm was better with human culture than elven, but he thought that both, like orcs, referred to their parent as mother or father, rather than the use of their name. There was something here he was missing.
“Cancer,” Soliana said. “They just found it. It’s in the final stages. She’s got a few weeks left at best.”
Trorm clenched his teeth and felt Nymal squeeze his arm for all she was worth. Cancer was an insidious illness and one of the few that was a serious problem for elves. It was notoriously difficult to detect in them until the latest stages when it was usually too late to do anything about.
“Soliana, I am so sorry,” Nymal said. “Your mother was a kind and powerful woman.”
Soliana leapt to her feet. “Don’t talk about her like she’s already dead!”
Nymal nodded. “I apologize, that was…thoughtless.”
“You can make it up to me by helping me to save her,” Soliana said, opening her backpack and emptying out several notebooks and tomes upon Nymal’s coffee table.
“I don’t know of anything but divine intervention and the most powerful of transmutation and healing spells that might be able to help at this point,” Nymal said, sympathetically as Soliana fell to her knees and set about opening her various books and notes, spreading them out in no particular order that Trorm could discern.
“That’s just it,” she said, speaking quickly. “That’s just it. At this point.”
She picked up a heavy book and passed it over to Nymal. Trorm glanced at the chapter heading. It was written in elvish but he was able to translate a single word. Temporal.
“You want to time travel?” Trorm said skeptically.
“Don’t be absurd,” Soliana snapped. “I think I’ve found a way to create a localized liquid temporal field, capable of resetting a place, object, or even a person, back to a certain state that they previously were in.”
Nymal nodded. “You think that you can reset your mother, put her back to a point before the cancer grew beyond being treatable and catch it in time.”
“Exactly!” Soliana nodded vigorously, her long braid bouncing behind her head.
“I don’t think it can be done,” Nymal said. “Believe me, pharmaceutical companies have been trying for years to
find a way to restore people to their youth. And they’ve got teams of highly skilled wizards working on it.”
“But they’re limited,” Soliana said, leaning forward, eyes burning feverishly. “They have short-sighted government oversight. I’m talking about true temporal magic here, not just reversing biology.”
“You’re talking about magic that’s forbidden by every known nation,” Trorm said flatly. “And for good reason.”
Manipulating time was one of those few areas of study that everyone collectively agreed upon was too dangerous to be allowed, primarily because the effects were so profound. The effects of tampering rippled outward in unpredictable ways that altered things on a global scale. Small changes led to massive ones. There were all kinds of theories about early temporal wizards conducting all manner of experiments before the great nations of the world collectively put their foot down.
There were always rumors, of course, of various nations secretly working on their own temporal manipulation spells, just as there were always rumors about aliens and nuclear programs. While Trorm had no doubt that it was an area of significant study, there was no way to actually practice it without some very powerful people finding out and coming to chop your head off.
“I’m talking about magic that could save my mother’s life,” Soliana said through clenched teeth. “I’ve found a way to contain it through conjuration, see?” She grabbed a notebook and jabbed a finger repeatedly upon a diagram. “That’s always been the biggest problem, uncontrolled effects spreading out and getting everyone and everything. I’m talking about a highly focused, limited effect.”
“Soliana,” Nymal said slowly. “This…this is beyond me. I don’t know how any of this could work.” She looked up at Trorm. “What about you?”
Trorm looked over the diagram.
“You’re trusting him?” Soliana gave a disbelieving look. “You’re the best spell caster out of all our siblings!”
“Yeah, and Trorm’s at least as good as me,” Nymal said. “Better in some areas.”
