Day 17: 540 words. Spider and Chronicle
“Sanctimus Faniumi.” Warwick waved his hands over the book and watched the words glow. “Prisim Prisemi Protis Protsi.”
The words rose, hovered inches from the page before bursting into a million pieces. He blew a big breath over the book and the glitter dissipated.
Warwick’s face changed from wizen old man, to the smooth complexion of a man a third his age. He drew in a breath, his eyes closed in concentration. Lifting his hands, the pages turned rapidly before slowing. He began to chant again without looking down at the book.
“Previsa, Previsa, rumini. Previsa, Previsa, rumini.”
The words echoed in the room. His eyes fluttered, a glow appearing around his body before he finished the incantation. This time the whole room brightened and his body seemed to suck the light into his being.
“The vial, Sebastian. And bring the Book.” He gasped, glitter floating from between his lips. “Quickly.”
The young man scurried over with the requested items in hand, nervousness making his hands shake as he approached his mentor. Warwick drew a knife across his wrist, barely wincing as the blood flowed. He snatched the vial from the shaking man’s hand, filling it to the top before the wound sealed over.
“Dictate, Sebastian.” The young man cleared a space on the table and placed the book titled The Chronicle of Wizards before him. “The woman will reveal herself only to the wizard how poses as a youth and who has sent forth rain to herald his coming. Wrapped in a gold cloak, the wizard will slay the dark mage that haunts the woman with a twist of magic…”
Warwick paused and Sebastian paused too, the quill tip just above the page.
“And?” Sebastian asked, breathy anticipation in his voice.
Warwick lapsed into silence, his face blank as though a scene played out before his eyes. Fear contorted his face before it smoother out into more determined lines. When he came to, he appeared younger than before. His clothes changed from the drab cloak of a common wizard to the gold one of the man he’d mentioned. Sebastian stared on with wide eyes.
“I must go Sebastian. Practice the casting spell and tidy the workshop.” His words were distracted, whatever he saw leaving him looking troubled.
“But… but the chronicle…”
Warwick disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving Sebastian in a daze.
The younger man looked around the dusty workshop. Cobwebs occupied every corner and a large, furry brown spider sat within arms length of him on the table. Tubes, books, and a sundry of items were placed haphazardly around the room.
Sebastian cringed. The workshop didn’t appear to have been cleaned since the time when the wizard actually was a young man.
A cleaning spell sounded like a far better idea. He eyed the spell book, the weathered pages seeming to flap enticingly in the wind. The book called to him, exuding a glow all its own. He couldn’t look away, but the flutter of fear in his chest helped him break the trance.
Sebastian wasn’t ready for that magic yet.
“Perhaps the old fashioned way is the best. I’ll keep with the magic I know.” He mumbled to himself as he retrieved broom from the corner.