He sat cross-legged, in an opening circled around with trees. The shoreline could be heard, as he was just north-east of the docks, and brought a sense of peace to the location. Lance needed this concentration as he worked.
His hand worked a pen, writing inscriptions over blank cards then laying them aside to move on to the next until he had a small deck compiled. His hand ached, so he shook it as he stretched back and the bones of his spine popped.
Sighing, he bent over lined the cards up and inspected each. He switched card for card, moving their order, until he was finally satisfied and nodded to reassure himself. Moving himself to sit on the back of his legs, his body leaned forward and reached down to the grass to press index and middle finger over one of the cards and slid it forward across the grass as if offering it so someone that was playing against him in a game.
Ruis. Ruis.
Ruis. Ruis. Ruis. Ruis.
Ruis. Ruis. Ruis.
Ruis.
Ruis. Ruis. Ruis. Ruis.
The ruis runic card burned to ash, invoking the power of the language, and the air rippled as if disturbed by a higher force. Lance continued, pulling his hand back to push and burn card after card as the power and meaning of every spell tied together.
Eite. Spas.
Beithe. Uath. Ehwaz. Mannaz.
Ingwaz. Nion. Raidho.
Eite Thuathail.
Space and time was disturbed, a hole and gate ripping opening before Lance as the final charm was invoked.
a s c e n s i o n
All that was Camile were summoning, pulling through reality and fantasy. Phsycological, physical, soul, spiritual and signature of that which was Camile were tied together once more, pulled from the alternate realm which prisoned her.
Lance awaited the results. Would he fail, or would she return safely?