An Elf Teaches a Dwarf to Fly

The night at the crossroads was darker than usual. It was like moonlight couldn’t reach the ground from here. It was a hundred kilometers to reach Fargo, and yet darkness had a peculiar effect on the weather, obscuring the land with clouds ahead of pitch blackness. The wind sounded different too, howling with a banshee-like shriek. It could only be the work of an encroaching corruption and a demon general to facilitate it.

Still, nothing of note happened at the brothel. Shige was forced into his own room. Shenanigans forced the others to seal him in, lest any other services come his way, and of course, the girls got their own room. Their journey was much more comfortable than Dige’s, but even they were overjoyed to have a cotton spring mattress to themselves. Only one kept their rest ot a minimum.

“Dwarf? Are you awake? I wish to speak with you.”

Dige stirred and stared up at the sky. It was still pitch black, though the sun's rays attempted to penetrate from the east. Vel moved into view, her face distorted by night vision.

“Apologies. It looked like you were awake.”

“That’s an assumption to make, elf.” Dige’s voice was slurred and unintelligible. “A dwarf can sleep anywhere, at any time.”

“Should I come back at a later time?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.” She stood ready to leave.

“Wait!”

“Yes?”

Dige’s mind tried to catch up. “Can I get some beer?”

“Certainly.” She spotted her opportunity and procured some from the tap. She paid for it, of course, leaving the exact amount of coin needed. She also snatched some water to brew up something herself. When she returned, she gave the dwarf a tall ale glass, which made her instantly trustworthy. However, his eyes were on her tiny mug.

“What dark ale is that?” he asked.

“It’s coffee,” she stated, smelling the notes. “It’s grown not far from here in the mountains. A valuable export for other realms.”

Dige’s nose got a full buffet of the juice. It was a tantalizing affair, but his sense of smell helped him estimate its taste. Deep, flavorful, but it’d be the wrong type of bitter. Nothing good would come of it. Alcohol was the dwarf’s fuel source, not this dark bean juice.

“I wanted to continue where we left off last night,” she stated, sipping from her cup. “About your magical abilities.”

“I don’t have any magic,” Dige responded, doing the same. “What, do I get a rematch?”

“No, rather wish to teach you some.”

"No!" Dige’s lips snarled. “I told ye, I don’t have any magic.”

Vel shook her head. “I disagree. Magic in the astral realms is fluid and versatile. There are many ways to channel it. Fura connects with the further astral gods to request magic via prayer. Shige interfaces with it using statistics and a unique interface. Nice uses both mana from her blood and magic from her connection with Rani, meaning she uses two magicks. As for me, I use aura from my spirit and direct it through spoken spells, the standard wizard method. And from what I’m seeing, you have an aura around yourself, too, dwarf.”

This made Dige uncomfortable, but his curiosity was piqued. “Is it a powerful aura?”

“It’s…” Vel took her time to analyze it. “Average. A normal amount.”

“Oh.”

“B-But it’s still useful. You can master a good amount of spells with it.”

Still, Dige shook his head. “I don’t want spells, and I don’t want to deal with magic. It’s bad manners.”

“Is there something wrong with magic?” Vel felt like she was about to get offended.

“A dwarf deals with the natural world. What we build, construct, and design all come from an understanding of physics, architecture, and metallurgy. Magic has no place for that. It’s making shit up. You throw all this fancy stuff around, and it has no meat behind it, no soul. You just say it exists. Why would I wanna work with a fake design?”

It was almost enough to make her shout. The level of ignorance from this luddite was out of this world, but it all clicked for her. The missing pieces were coming together. She figured out his anti-magic, so despite everything, she nodded sagely.

“I see. Then let me give you something more concrete. What is something you want to do but don’t have the current tools for it?”

That was enough to get Dige thinking, enough to get several ideas, in fact, but they were all under one central thesis. “I do wish I could reach higher places more easily.”

The offer was made. “Dige, give me your shoes.”

Dige did so, and Vel immediately passed out from the stink, but after she came to a few minutes later, she turned over to the heels and used a spell, Mind to Material, to form an intricate symbol made of lines and shapes overlapping with each other. This was another conduit for magic, alchemical circles. It wasn't her forte, but she understood it well enough to know its application.

“These writings are made to streamline the magic process by having the incantations written down on something concrete, or rather, leather. It'll have two spells engraved, one for the actual spell and a durability spell so that your boots won't take any damage. All you need after that is a fuel source, magic. Put these back on.”

Dige did so, but he felt like he was about to sign his own death warrant. Literal magic was in his feet. It was a trap. He knew it!

“Do I have to say anything?” Dige shuddered.

Just concentrate your feeling of magic into your feet, and it’ll work. Don’t worry. Your body knows what that means.”

"And...then what?"

Right, the physics. "Just think of the alchemical circles as circuits for electricity, as Shige once said. I hope you understand that."

“Uh, if ye say so, lass.” Dige stood as if he were on ice skates. “Here comes the ma-.”

Dige’s feet flew in two different directions as blue flames shot out from his heels, stretching him in ways a dwarf shouldn't before tossing him across the sky like an out-of-control bottle rocket. His indeterminate trajectory had him crash through a tent, some tree branches, straight into the ground, where he proceeded to skid his face across the dirt like a plow, and finally through a brothel window, where he splattered and dragged his face around the corners of the room. Mars and Madam Swell, moments ago asleep in a tender embrace, sat up, dreary-eyed and brain-dead, watching Dige sputtering in the corner like a game character glitching in the geometry. Eventually, Mars marched over, picked up the screaming rocket, and tossed him back out the window like a bad dog.

Dige’s flight would eventually end when he crashed into the tree outside of the brothel, nearly snapping it in two with his noggin. Vel rushed over to check on him, healing magic ready, but the mess she found was not worth it. The dwarf was dead. 30 seconds of trying magic, and he managed to kill himself. Looking at his skull, it reminded her of Shige.