Synry
Episode Seven
"Synry, I swear to the HELLS that I will gut you alive if you don't start paying attention!"
Synry pulled his eyes away from the dancing, multi-couloured flames of the summoning fire, and focused on the round little woman on the other side of the blaze.
"Sorry, Mum."
Jallia sighed, and said, "You have to focus on the chant, not get caught up in the lights and colours. That's dangerous. Chant, and call for your familiar."
Synry nodded, and started going over the words in his head, letting the weight of the nonsense syllables sink through the water of his mind, into the depths of his being as they rolled off his tongue. The ritual seemed to go on for days, although the moon crept across the sky at a normal pace. Each time through, the chant seemed to grow more difficult, and the words seemed to fight him, not wanting to be said. He wrestled with them in the depths of his soul, battering each syllable into submission and forcing it out with his voice, until there was no sensation except the chanting.
Then, a deep voice spoke within the depths of his being, saying simply, "Now."
"BRAN!" The word exploded from him with a joyous release, carrying with it all the pent up tension and energy of the ritual, all his loneliness and hope and fear and love. It pierced the night like a lance, striking up into the heavens, drawing the flames of the fire along in a slipstream that threatened to scorch the moon itself.
He collapsed back on the turf, spent and dizzied, and couldn't open his eyes for a long time. When he did, he saw the yellow eye that he had dreamed staring at him.
Ye came.
You called.
Are ye really mine?
Yes. And you are really mine.
Synry wiped the tears from his eyes before he sat up. Jallia was sitting across the fire from him, seemingly absorbed by a book. She looked up as he stood, put the book away.
"Well, Synry, I half expected you to fail, but I'm pleased to see that you haven't. You do need to learn more discipline, though. I think that I will recommend you return to martial training. Besides teaching you to control your mind, it never hurts for a wizard to be able to handle a sword when the spells are gone."
Synry just grinned stupidly at Bran, and nodded.
