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Joseph
The kid’s persistent, that’s for damn sure. Gotta give him that. A bit dramatic though. Powerful emotions, too powerful for his own good if he can’t learn to control them. Hell, if he starts another sloppy shadow invocation here there’s gonna be a mess. ~ “Sure thing, kid,” he says to Larry, “but do me a favor and calm yourself down. Long-deferred victory and stuff like that ain’t my department. can’t do much about dead spouses and soulmates either. Enchanted towers made outta shadow type substances – those I can handle. But a job like this takes concentration so hold off on the victory celebrations until we’ve done whatever it is we’ve gotta do here and we’re sure we ain’t dead once it’s done.” Turning toward the tower, he begins to move the hook, hoping with his last unfocused thought that either the big guy or the woman will keep the kid calm.
“Okay, Myron,” he says quietly through a slight smile, “let’s see if you were right.” He moves his left had in a sweeping motion while his right holds the shadowy crewel hook and in the wake of his sweeping arm a stream of shadow unfurls much like a bolt of cloth. “The trouble with weaves,” he says more to himself than to the others, “is that they're never as complete as we like to think they are. They get frayed over time. Hell, even without fraying there’s always a place where you can grab the end of a strand. It don’t matter how tight the weave is if that place can be found the weave can be unmade......”
Taking the sheet of shadow he again moves his left arm, snapping it toward the tower. The conjured shadow flows over a small portion of the tower’s surface, clinging to it and forming a smooth covering of slightly different opacity. Holding his right arm still, he moves his left through a series of intricate gestures. The sheet of shadow undulates as he does so. His eyes narrow and he stiffens. He smiles. The pattern is very tight, but he has found its strands. He pauses a moment longer – just because the one who made this works more from power than craft does not mean there is no art to be discerned, and only a fool, and a fool soon to be dead, would underestimate one capable of a feat such as this. He must be sure. He stiffens once again. ~ Well, I’ll be damned! ~ he thinks ~ He’s actually got the heavy structure of this place spliced in such a way that the right kind of pull would bring the whole works down........ Best not mess with those strands.
The weave is tight, and if this were a contest of power he’d never be strong enough to loosen the threads in so little time. But the shadow of the strands is flawed and the hook is not. He smiles, “Myron, you were ahead of your time, old fella.” His movements are graceful and carefully calculated as he raises the hook and steps toward the tower. A series of rapid gestures succeed in having the hook actually pierce the outer surface of the shadowed stone. Another series of gestures loosens what seems to be a single dusky strand from the tower’s form. Taking this strand and working the hook he begins the unweaving a portion of the tower’s enchantment until a seam is opened in the structure, a seam he folds back like the flap of a tent. Darkness waits on the other side of the seam.
A project like this takes a lot out of a guy and he’ll need a minute or two to figure out how much he has left and how much of that he’ll need to save for getting this bunch out of this place. But first things first.
Turning once more to Larry, he smiles, “After you....”
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