You couldn’t have taken Jacens’ breath away faster than that statement alone had. He felt the weight of the memories returning like rocks piling onto his chest. But with a practiced smile he said, voice unwavering, “I miss them for sure but it’s been years master.” He knew he was lying through his teeth, but he also hoped that this wouldn’t be detected by the aging mage.
“That it has but wounds that large aren’t known to heal well.” Something behind the mans aged eyes showed that he knew the truth to his words all too well. At his age he’d seen his own family pass one by one into the void that claims us all in time.
“Time heals all wounds sir.” Yet again more lies came naturally to his tongue. Jacen forced air back into his lungs. The man was just concerned, he reasoned with himself. The memories sinking back to the recesses of his mind. Fighting his inner demons would come later, when he was home alone.
“If only it were that simple, for I fear it’s time to reopen those wounds.” The maesters voice croaked, sympathy palatable in his tone.
“What… what do you mean?”
“I’m afraid I can’t divulge why. High council business and all. That is… if you feel you can palate what they have to say.” The old mans voice seemed to change to being the formal wizard, not the man that had seemed to care a moment prior.
“Of course you can’t,” Jacen huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “But do I really have any choice in the matter?” The elder shook his head, his snow white beard shaking with him. “As I expected. Shall you take us to the council room then maester?”
Neither man made a move to the door, but the old man reached to his wand. With wand in hand, he closed his eyes and muttered a phrase under his breath, as to not allow Jacen to hear. As he finished his words the two men began to face from each other’s vision.
All of a sudden they were both surrounded by a room of powerful looking men and women. Once the room stopped spinning from the teleportation process Jacen noticed the entire council was gathered in the room, not the sporadic attendance he had seen in prior engagements. The age and dress of the wizards varied quite a lot, but the aura of power hovered over them all the same. It caused Jacen to grip the arms of the chair he now inhabited until his knuckles turned white.
Suddenly a collective voice began to speak, the voices of the magi mixing to form a single note. “Mage Jacen Mills, you have been summoned in front of the grand council for a task that is required of you by the greater good of the guild. Would you wish to hear more of this task?”
The breath caught in Jacens throat. A task? He thought only the most powerful of mages, which he certainly didn’t qualify as. “Uh… I guess I would like to know first off why I was chosen of all people. There’s lots of wizards that are more powerful than I am.”
There seemed to be a shifting in the mood of the room, from an air of power to that of collective thought. A stoic faced man, dressed in furs typical of nomadic tribes of Mongolia, raised his individual voice. It was deep with a thick accent, “You possess unique knowledge of that which we seek, and as well your talents are possessed by very few magi in this age. While you may not be overly powerful you are precise, technical I believe we called it upon your passing exam” The room seemed to calm as the man spoke.
Jacen took the mans words in, nodding his head. The words were true, his precision was the mages most practiced skill. “Well then,” he pondered for a brief second, “I guess I’d like to know what I’m tasked to do before I have more questions. Then I’ll know what to ask.”
The room seemed to accept this move by the man. Their collective voice boomed, “Jacen Mills, your task is to bring forth the lost mage Wesley Bolt, the mage known to set the demonfire charges that ignited the Mills household five years prior. He has been seen in the Calgary area again and we wish to have him come before the council as one of our own.”
The breath caught in Jacens throat. Wesley had resurfaced in his city? The news had Jacen gasping for his breath, as if his chest had refilled with the smoke as it had all those years prior. The council’s somber faces all were turned on him, their voice echoed amongst the hall, “We have nobody else that knows the signature of this man left alive aside from you. We know it is hard for one who has lost so much to this man…”
“I accept,” Jacen muttered interrupting High Council. Jacens aura crackled, almost allowing a physical manifestation to flicker into vision. His rage was blurring his vision, but fear was also filling his lungs. He attempted to slow his breathing, to show strength to the counsel.
An aged womans voice comes from the wall to Jacens right, “Are you sure you’ll be able to bring him back? You seem to have quite a hatred for Wesley. We intend to have a fair trial, even after what he’s done.”
Jacen nodded to the woman, his rage fading. “If I am charged to bring him back I shall do that if at all possible.” His mind was racing, noting in the back of his mind they needed him alive, not well.
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