Mason Does his Job
Mason was normally very good at waiting. he had a steady patience that made him a good wizard. He could spend hours distilling just a few drops of a tincture and not get impatient or wander off or ruin it by multi-tasking.
But this waiting felt pointless. He had dimmed the room so that the spark would be bright and visible when Kaelyn triggered it. he straightened the workbench, made sure he had all his materials at hand. he swept. He cleaned the glassware. He fretted, in a word. this was taking far too long, he was sure of it.
he set a large tome next to the glass of the spark and forced himself to study the reactions required to synthesize the essence of ice from chilled water. Mason was good with fire and air but earth and water had thus far baffled him. Finally, finally the spark lit up.
Mason, had he been anyone else, would have thrown the book from the table. Instead he closed it and moved to the protected bench, and began the spell.
Back-channeling Brant's energy through his blood was not in Mason's wheelhouse; it wasn't even entirely the right kind of magic. Kaelyn had designed part of the spell, and it was far too... organic for his tastes. Plants and words instead of simple inscriptions and incantations. Still, the moment he completed her chant the sigils around the book began to glow. It was working.
He was dimly aware that Sonja had entered behind him, but he had to focus, his will, his attention was somehow part of the spell.
The letters on the page were glowing softly now as well. Mason cut the page free, so that if this page burst into flame the book would still be a source for him to use.
there was a conversation going on behind Mason's back, so his Magister wasn't alone. He didn't know who else was there, couldn't stop to find out, the power was fighting back. He couldn't explain it, but he could feel the spell writhing, twisting in his mind. Heat was pouring upwards from the sigils.
Suddenly he felt two hands on his shoulders, one small and the other much larger. And he heard Sonja say “Well done. Now move. We will take this part.”
Colm and Sonja were standing behind him, their faces lit by the hideous brightness coming off of the book. Their expressions were...complex. Neither was exactly smiling, but this seemed to be something they were expecting, something they knew was coming. He felt suddenly very young and small. Colm nodded at him and Mason stood.
Mason stepped back and Colm and Sonja stepped forward, inner arms locked, outer hands on the table, intertwining their power. Mason looked around and saw Colm's wife standing there, a curious look on her face.
She caught Mason's look and half-smiled, although her worry was still evident. “Mama, I mean, Missus Marion...what am I supposed to do now? Can I help them?”
Marion laughed quietly, stepped forward, and hugged Mason. She was shorter than Kaelyn even, her head resting comfortably and comfortingly on his chest. She stepped back and looked up into his eyes.
“You can call me Mama, Mason dear. And no, I think you have done quite well here, now it's time for them to do their part. But perhaps you can help Kaelyn?”
She hadn't expected him to resist much, but he instantly latched onto that idea. “Of course,” he said and started gathering a few things into an already-well-prepared rucksack. Within minutes he was out the door.
Marion watched him go, then turned to her husband and oldest friend, and stepped toward them, gently took their hands in hers, just like last time, just like always.
“Is the boy worth this?” Sonja asked, her eyes intent on the book, bending her skill and art to keep it from burning.
“Every person deserves at least this much, Sonja.”
“We haven't trained them well enough.”
“I know. Nobody trained us either. But we made it through.”
Sonja just grunted. Colm had stayed silent. He knew his part and was doing it as best he could. There was little room for error and he was focused.
Marion bent her focus toward the book in front of them, and through it, to the hurt, angry, injured boy who had written it. While her friends pulled his energy toward the book, she sent hers along that same channel, reaching out to his heart.
She only hoped they were in time.