Glyph

Chapter 7

Dirk carefully drew the glyph on the floor, concentrating on forcing it to obey its purpose. You absorb heat. You take it in, and extinguish it. 

This ward specifically, was not all that complex, though Dirk still found it a challenge, being the first he had ever attempted. 

Unfortunately, the drawing itself was not the most difficult part of the process. Forcing the glyph to obey his will was. If his concentration slipped for even an instant, the glyph would become no more than a fanciful drawing. To his frustration, this had already occurred three times. Another time he had not slipped up, but the ward was incorrectly drawn and, thus did not perform its intended purpose.

This time however, he had not lapsed in focus the entire time, and he believed the drawing was correct as well.

Finishing the last curve of the ward, Dirk watched as it glowed brightly. "Cynric," he called. "I think I did it."

Cynric looked up from where he was sitting in an armchair by the fire, reading a book. He got up and walked over to Dirk's glyph, leaving the book closed atop a nearby table.

Kneeling, Cynric scrutinized it. He looked at every twist and angle, trying to find any flaw. For, as he had explained to Dirk when he first set him to the task, "Most of the time, glyphs drawn wrong will not function at all. On rare occasions, however, they will work, but not correctly. It is possibly the most dangerous thing that could happen while drawing glyphs."

As Dirk followed Cynric's eyes through the glyph, seeing them draw nearer to the end, he became more and more nervous. Please let it work, he prayed.

Cynric looked up. "Well done," he approved.

Dirk let out a relieved breath.

"Watch out," Cynric warned. He moved his fingers in the same pattern and said the same words as before. A gout of flame erupted and licked the stone. 

Dirk flinched, but nothing happened. There was no heat! His heart leapt. He had done it! After all that, he had done it. It would be easy now, probably. The first time was p-

A wave of heat struck him in the face. He blinked and leaned away from it, eyes streaming.

Cynric quickly ended the flames.

"What happened?" demanded Dirk. "Yours lasted much longer."

"It all has to do with practice. You don't have much practice, so you cannot force your intent into it as well and, you don't have as much. In time, both will increase."

Dirk nodded slowly. That made sense.

Cynric got up and walked to his chair. "Now," he said, "Again."

Inwardly Dirk groaned, but he doubted Cynric would want to hear his complaints, so instead, he got the blue chalk and started drawing the ward to absorb heat.

Several hours later, Dirk's neck and back hurt from leaning over so much. His knees were sore from crouching. He had a headache at the base of his skull, which sent up flares of agony every time he moved. He had just finished his thirty-seventh working ward. His attempts had gradually begun lasting longer and longer. 

Calling Cynric, Dirk took the opportunity to stand up and stretch. He let out a relieved sigh as he felt his back stretch and neck pop. Looking down he caught the end of Cynric's motion as more fire came forth from his fingers. This time the ward lasted well over three minutes. Dirk had developed a sort of sense about how long it  would last from the amount of willpower he put in.

Just as the afterimage of the flames was fading, there came a timid knock at the door.

"Enter," intoned Cynric, looking up.