Larrikan digs into his project. He soon realizes Coldwillow was right, and that he has a big enough project ahead. The work will require casting several groups of spells, all on the living tree. He has no doubt it will demonstrate mastery.
The fox mage spends the first week preparing. He talks to several of the dryads, making sure he has the process correct. He spends a couple of days copying out the spells he needs, so he doesn’t have to handle whole books during a complex casting. He also goes to bed early and makes sure his own reserves are fully charged before he starts.
On his last preparation day, he goes out and brings in a large pile of provisions. His little den is nearly full. [Note: Where are Aed, Feina, Bandé?]
Finally, on the first day of the second week, Larrikan begins casting. He is up, bathed and having eaten a good meal, and back to the chosen tree by dawn. As the first rays of sunlight shine on the horizon into the pinkening sky, Larrikan begins to cast the first part of the first of nearly a dozen major spells.
He casts all day, pulling power from the world and using other parts as levers or filters to modulate the forces he is using. By the end of the day, he is tired, and worried he’ll get hoarse.
Dusk finds him standing in front of a tree with no visible changes. He finishes by sort of tying the forces he has begun to gather down, so he can return tomorrow. As soon as he finishes, he goes back to his day, has a light snack, and falls into bed.
Little changes over the course of the next week. Djarlee or Coldwillow come and keep an eye on what the young wizard is doing, but say nothing. His local dryad also watches, worrying both for the fox and the tree.
On the fifth day, Larrikan has pulled in large strands of power from all five elements, and has each of them tied, metaphorically, to the tree.
Aykuh comes and watches. She does not distract the laboring fox, and resists the strong urge to look in the tree and see what is happening. She goes back to the Silver Egg, thoughtful.
At dusk, Hotspur is waiting with a tightly closed pot. As the fox finishes, the big minotaur puts the stew on a fire to heat. He tells Larrikan, “Sit and rest. Have a light meal. You’ll feel better.”
Hotspur is right, too.
Five days remain when Larrikan gets sick. It is a head cold, probably from overwork and lack of sleep. He presses on, pausing to mix up some extraordinarily strong herbal remedies. They taste horrid, but keep him working.
Three days before he is finished, sick and with the hardest part left to do, Larrikan has to finish a little early and go to the rade. He has kept Bandé, Aedaith, and Feina traveling enough that they haven’t had to go, but he must, and he does.
The pixies are horrified when they see him, and want to know what vampire has stolen all his energy. He fails to explain it is, but they go.
He plays for the fey. He dances in the moonlight. He can feel that silver power refilling him, and he smiles.
After the rade, he eats and sleeps. He is up before dawn, refreshed and ready to finish.