Page 65 of Ogres Don't Play
“Why would I kill her personally when I have a mountain troll that can do it for me tomorrow afternoon? Go now, before I force the issue. No time to argue.” He gestured, and a wind rose, and Lanise was swept out of the room, the door slamming behind her, leaving me alone with the elven guy who had just moved an ogre with the force of a wind that had barely made my hair stir around my face. He had so much power, and so much control, and had made it look so incredibly easy.
He leaned over to stare at my book, also the notes I’d scribbled in the margins. “Desecration, thy name is Mirabel. What are you trying to do?”
“I…That is, I want to make magical armor to protect me from hits.” Should I forget the part where he thought I was his granddaughter? Was I? Was he really not trying to kill me? Then who was?
“I am aware of your goal, but why are you changing so much of the original spell?”
“I…You’re elf, but I’m mostly angel, with a little ogre and a little elf, so I can’t use any magic other than purely angelic. I mean, not elven. I’ve been trying my whole life to make elven magic work for me.”
“Ah. And the blood? Your strings are saturated with your blood. What kind of magic is that? Only dark elves use blood magic. Oh, that’s right, the ogre in you probably uses blood to help with focus.”
“More than focus. Strength of the spell. It’s ten times more potent with blood.”
“Like I said. Because it helps you focus.”
I cocked my head, but I let the argument go. “Sure. I don’t suppose you’d know much about angel, elven, ogre magic.”
“No, but I do know a great deal about elven magic and the theory of most various kinds. I’m rather skilled, granddaughter.”
I flinched. “You don’t need to call me that. You’re probably mistaken about our connection. It’s too unlikely that some random elf from far away was my grandfather.”
“Unless he was here to kill you. Do you know more magic than that clumsy shield you used?”
I stared at him, then shrugged. “I guess.”
“Show me. Once I understand how you adapted elven magic to work for you, I should be able to tell you how to adjust specific spells.”
I brightened. “Really?” Whether he was my grandfather, or just some delusional elf, I’d take any help he could give me.
I started with all the various easy music ones I knew, and he listened carefully and watched even more closely, until he finally nodded.
“I see. Your ogre is also magical, so you have to bend it around that dark, ferocious, bloodthirsty beast inside of you, before you can get the elven magic to do anything. The real trouble, however, is the angel. Angels aren’t the best at subtlety. They are forthright, honorable, and deadly. In the reverse order. Elves are subtle. Terribly, awfully subtle. Your angelic tendency is to run at a problem and keep hacking at it until it goes away. The elf would disintegrate the ground beneath the problem, or tangle the problem in its own horns, or any number of other things. You’ve used your elven abilities at manipulation and beguilement to achieve what you have here, but with the magic, you haven’t learned to talk to the magic in a way it responds to.”
“With subtlety? I mean, I can do some like that, but it’s harder, takes more time, and is often a complete failure.”
“Show me.”
I described the compulsion spell I’d put on the ogre, and then how I’d turned it into a healing spell, and also mentioned burning the elven arrow out of the ogre, because that might be of interest.
“Time and patience. That’s what you need when building a spell. I believe we’ve hit on the crux of the problem. Let’s see if we can get this shield spell to listen to you.”
The way he put it, like magic had to listen to me, like I was a musician trying to beguile the audience, that struck the right chord. I watched as he adapted the spell, nodding when it started to make sense to me, and then I started around the edges of the spell, subtly drawing in the protections while I held my focus, painfully stretching out my patience until the spell snapped into place with a prick of pain that rushed over my whole body.
“Now let’s test it,” he said, pulling out a pretty dagger that looked wickedly sharp, and then he slashed me with it.
I brought up my forearm to block it, like I still had a vambrace in heavenly gold, but I didn’t need it because the knife bounced off my shield, only without the slightest impact on me. In other words, it was a much better spell than I could have done on my own.
I stared at that knife, held so casually in his hand, then slowly looked up at someone who was a real genius at magic if he could adapt spells to me without needing any testing.
“Thank you,” I said and then bowed low. “I appreciate your kindness in assisting me.” I tried to show him exactly how grateful I was, but he only sniffed and turned to another page in the book.
“We aren’t finished yet. If an elf is truly trying to kill you, you’ll need more than that shield to put a mark on them so they can be stopped permanently. Also, you’ll need a great deal of strength and speed, as well as an incredibly high jump if you’re going to defeat the troll. You’ll also need protections against metaphysical attacks. You are going to be severely fatigued when I’m done with you tonight, but you’ll be more likely to survive. Be certain that the ogre you’re willing to die for sings you his strength through the night.”
I was so shocked that the snotty elf would waste his precious time on some ogre-tainted angel-elf that I barely felt embarrassment at his assumption that I’d be sleeping with Rook.
The rest of the day passed in an exhausted blur of spells seeping into me, tangling together in a way that would make each spell stronger together rather than how it would be on its own. I created each spell, while the master spell-caster watched and explained to me what I was doing. Most of it was beyond me, but I took notes I could look over later if I didn’t die today. I mean tomorrow. Or today. It was late, and the stadium through the glass window had gone dark while I sat with the master speller over the books and Lanise growled occasionally from the other side of the door.
Finally, he sat back and stretched his long neck. “And with that, you need to rest, let the spells set, and have your ogre sing strength into you. This is essential. Otherwise, Mirabel, are you listening?”