* * * * *
The next week flew by with preparations. The doors arrived. Liam gathered ingredients, made potions, and memorized spells. Finally everything was ready.
Confidently Liam mixed together the ingredients in the silver cauldron. Setting it aside he began crushing the lodestone in the mortar and thinking through the process. All was going smooth. Soon he would add the lodestone to the heated cauldron. A chill went through him. The heating stones! He set the mortar down almost spilling it and hurried to the cupboard. How many stones? Four? Five? He brought out five and set them under the cauldron.
Liam's hands trembled as he adjusted the pot over the heated stones and ran through the spell in his mind again. He checked the cauldron. The stripe was still green. It's taking too long, he thought. I should have used six. He lengthened the chain that held the cauldron, lowering it until it almost brushed the stones.
A quick glance at the mortar showed the ball was a lifeless lump resting in the bottom. He still had time. The cauldron's green stripe had turned bright yellow and the mixture was starting to steam. Now it was heating too fast. He jerked the chain up two links.
Snatching the vial from the table he flung white powder into the mortar. Hissing and spitting the powder foamed over the loadstone. He yanked his hand back and spun around to the cauldron. Its ring was turning orange. The lodestone began to spin.
So was his head. Time was short. He sprinkled more power on the lodestone and it took on a bluish cast. He glanced back at the cauldron. Its ring was already dark orange with tinges of red. He jerked on the chain to shorten it, and pain from the hot metal shot through his fingers.
Sucking his burnt fingers he turned back to the mortar squinting as tiny flashes sparked from the lodestone center like miniature lightning. It rose, a ring spreading around its middle. Ignoring the pain in his fingers he snatched up the mortar and tipped the lodestone into the cauldron.
“How's it going, lad?”
Liam jerked his head around and saw the Doormaster entering the room. All he could manage was a noncommittal nod. He turned his attention to the cauldron. The lodestone slowly stopped spinning. He had to cool the mixture quickly. Grabbing the tongs he jerked the heating stones out from under the cauldron.
“Just getting ready to test it sir,” Liam said over his shoulder. The stones clacked together as he slid them back into the silver cupboard.
He turned back to see the Doormaster leaning over the cauldron. “Well done, lad. A fine batch. Shall I test it on the window?”
Relief and satisfaction washed over Liam as he watched the master paint a window with his first effort. When the window was done, the master smiled and handed him the brush. “Have at it, lad. Your first doors are waiting.”
Liam hurriedly applied the solution to the doors.
“Steady, lad. You need to paint the doors not the floor.”
Liam tried to slow down, but every time he thought about the next step he found himself rushing again. At last he could put down his brush.
The Doormaster's cane clicked on the stone floor as he inspected the doors. With a smile he nodded to Liam. “Not the best paint job I've seen, but it will suffice. Now's the time lad. Prepare yourself. Remember what you've learned. Keep your head and the spell will go fine.”
Liam stepped up to the podium rubbing his damp palms against the sides of his robe. His hand trembled slightly as he opened the spell book. The pages rustled as he fumbled to find the right page. He read through the spell one last time.
Closing his eyes he started reciting the spell in his mind. Cold, damp air pooled at his feet, chilling his legs. His thoughts pushed the cold towards the doors as he opened his eyes. A blue fog thickened in front of him. He reached out to catch it. The fog burst upward. From the distance he could hear the Doormaster whisper, “Gently, lad. It takes a light hand to calm a wild horse.”
Liam forced himself to relax, stilling his mind. The fog slowly swirled back to the floor. Extending his arms he tried again. Lightly he brushed the fog with his fingertips. The fog responded. He curled his hands and the fog thickened at his touch. To his delight Liam found he could direct the fog's movement. Gaining confidence he began, first to gather and then mold. His hands grew numb with cold as a crude blue door began to take shape. The cold crept up his arms. He concentrated, adding detail to the door.
Again he heard the Doormaster's whisper. “That's it, lad. Now finish it!”
The fog door hung in the air between the two wooden doors. Liam slapped his hands together. With a Bang the fog door shattered. Sparkling explosions filled the room.
Liam slumped against the podium blinking rapidly to clear his vision. He felt the Doormaster lay a hand on his shoulder.
“Well done, lad,” the Doormaster said kindly. “You've earned a rest. Tomorrow we will test the fruit of your labors.”
The Doormaster's Apprentice Page 12