Summoning magic

Brilliant illuminance filled the barn. A summoning seal that was eleven, no. Twelve gauges! Murlock never expected such a natural adeptness at the boy's age. A spell reaching the caliber of an eleven was one intended to pierce the heavens! Murlock felt like a young boy himself; the grandeur of seeing it filled his eyes with wonder. The potential of magic truly was limitless!

"Boy! Keep going! You musint close the gate till that twelfth Circle stops spinning!" He bellowed.

Mark was stunned at the power he felt coursing through him! All this magic was new to him, and he still couldn't understand what grandpa meant by gauges, seals, or gates. But that didn't matter much right now. It stung and tingled his fingertips. Continually drawing out of him and fueling his spell.
A devious grin grew on his little face as thoughts of what his grandpa had teased him with. All terrible stories of summoned succubus turned familiars, and forest spirits turned housewives. Murlock would most definitely lose his grandson watching privileges if Adelle found out.

Pressure in the barn grew, and with it, a terrible wind picked up. A slurry of hay and dust began picking at his face. Shielding against it by ducking his head behind his shoulder, Mark thought he'd bested what the storm threw at him. Proven wrong, a whipping gust of wind shoved him from behind. Sputtering almost to the floor, his hands seemed to pull him up again as they magnetically re-adjusted to the seal. Thoughts of red and sparks as his wrists had to help the rest of him up.

Murlock's nose tingled. Casting a defensive spell to his side, his body lurched. Metal vibrating as it ricocheted off. Across the barn, Mark's ears stung with the sound. Murlock grimaced at the blow; it was like cannon fire. He'd played around too much and gotten lost in the moment. Glancing down, the summoning seal burned under him. To his right, whatever the boy was summoning violently pieced together. A magnetic clash as portions of the summon collided into place.

Noises from a past life were heard again, those little rattlesnake egg magnets that fizzled and twanged as they were brought together. He remembered how much it hurt to have his fingers in the way when they did.

"Grandpa, move!"

Two more, summoned by the edge of the seal. Murlock thought himself a dandelion in the middle of a well-worn path. He wasn't the target of some malicious being; he was just in the way. Flash! Flash! The room felt reverberated as the now misplaced hunks of metal helicopered around the room back towards their target. Murlock had never really before realized how rough a barn floor was, and he wasn't too ecstatic to find out with his face. It was more than humiliating. Searching the far side of the barn, Mark was shouting out to him, tears freely falling.

Slipping out of view as he continued to tumble, the last portion of Murlock's wonder whisked away with his hat. 

"TimeUn' conscriptus!"

The Large debris that imposed on his grandfather's life seemed to give up. The closer it pushed, the slower it went, becoming a snail in flight. Mark watched Murlock stand, he briefly brushed off whatever dirt and hay that cared to go with his attempts.
As he met the wizard's eyes, his tears began to dry. And the wind quelled ever more as the wizard approached. More pieces of Mark's summon seemed to recognize their mistake and calmly drifted by as the wizard passed. It was really cool. Mark's dad spared no expense, telling all of grandpas stories for him. But grandpa was much fonder of showing them off.
Erupting tapestries now shown on his grandfather's robes, dragons of all colors and shapes, seeming to lift off and really take flight! At the center, a great red dragon! That one was grandpa's. Its head tilted up, the undead armies along the tapestry fled. Against those armies, a wizard and four other heroes battled. Grandpa, Mom, Dad, and two others he didn't know. Towns and castles celebrated and paraded the heroes. The great red dragon swooped down and carried away the three heroes into the northern countries. Parting ways, his grandfather gave the dragon a hug. The three heroes left the red dragon to guard and make sure those undead wouldn't come back.

"Mark. Are you okay, my boy?"

Suddenly, he was back in the barn. Everything had quelled; he got lost looking at the dragons and adventurers. 

"Owww mmmmm!"

Those weren't the words he meant to share. Tears welled up again, his face turned red. Stooping down, his grandfather's caterpillar eyebrows seemed to slump.

"What's wrong? Where does it hurt?"

The words were sincere and probably learned with much heartache from a previous child. Murlock's eyes searched the boy, coming to his little outstretched hands.

"You may put them down."

Mark shook his head.

"Do they hurt?"

Mark nodded. Knowingly, the wizard watched Mark's hands, as they appeared unnaturally still.

"Your hands are locked in a spell. I'll help you get them unstuck, and we can try summoning later."

Mark took a stifling breath out as his tears rolled down. Sucking in just a little, he gave a little
Uh-uh and a shake of his head. Murlock seemed to remember moments like these, an unintentional smile fitted between his beard and stache.

"I'll be right here if you change your mind. I will wait here with you until it is finished."

Mark's eyes had already begun surveying, carrying away most of the ouch in his wrists. It was calmer in the barn. The magic within his summoning seal fired away, but the sound and wind were tame. Around the space, iron tie-downs had been run into most every surface available. His fingers still had that funny feeling; certain they'd wiggle around if they weren't locked in place. And what was he summoning anyway? It's got to be good! It was filling a large portion of the barn, even with it lounging!
You know, that pose, it actually looked like his custom-built model G-A-L. It was ritual to dust her twice a week and make sure she was posed bi-monthly. 

"By Aerostrada, a golem! It is incredible! I have never seen one of, this, make. Metal yes. But, of this, refinement."

The summon gave a soft settling noise as the final rings slowed to a halt. The line from his hands to seal was severed, little pins and needles perpetuated as he flexed his hands. A freshness to the noise around him grew with grandpas curiosity in his mech.  Oh! His mech! He'd forgotten all about that! To be fair, it was in passing, as he tumbled to the earth.

Eyes clicked on, a certain awareness was attained. With a curious turn and tilt of the head, it watched the two of them.  The sleeked back shoulders and relaxed posture was confident, in the sort of knowing it looked good without trying too hard, sort of way.

"My, Mark, tell me, did I ever tell you about golems? Incredible creatures, artificial constructs brought to life through magic! Look at the markings on it's head. They should tell us the golems' purpose! Quite the familiar you've managed to summon, I wonder where it came from, cause my, I have never seen a golem quite like it!"

Wonder had once again permeated the old wizard's mind. His genuine questions took on a rhetorical aftertaste. Marks' mech, however, recoiled as Murlock spoke; being pelted by small, vurbular stones. Tension was growing as the spring in her stance pulled back.

"I have never heard of a golem being summoned; they're simply made, nothing that magical about them. Mark, I wonder if you have an affinity to rocks, or um metal?"

Despite the lesson just learned, his grandpa was enchanted by the pursuit of magic. There was a creepish look, with searching fingers, and all to eager stance, ready to leap and explore what made this supposed golem, tick. Murlock spoke that word one more time, and in frighting speed the spring released.

"Stop calling me a golem! I'm not some stinky golem!"

Murlock's beard scrambled out of the way as he and Mech came face to face. The sudden gust of wind that followed, aiding its escape over his shoulder.
Advances from the wizard were flattened.
Marks weren't. Despite the difficulty he'd had since being reborn in expressing all his thoughts through his childish body. He squeezed hard, hoping to force out words built from memories past.

"Goji? Is that you?"

Pulling back, with hands rushing to cover her non-existent mouth, despite not being physically possible, blush filled her expression.
That wasn't supposed to happen! Surely it was a fluke. Oh shoot, he's not supposed to have any past memories! But ahhh, he remembered my name!
She squirmed in front of the two, both wildly confused and still answerless.

This development left Murlock a little helpless, as he quickly found himself a third wheeler. It seemed to be his lot in life.

"Mark, how do you know my name?"

Mark held on with his might to the fluency he had attained to keep speaking.

"What do you mean? You prepped me to come here. You kicked me out of the sky with no explanation! How was that fair!"

With the voice of a child, his comments, intended to inflict guilt, sounded a little meek.

Ahh, cute! But also no, if we get caught and there's proof Mark kept his memories, we'll be in big trouble. They'll find his records and find out I lied! No, no, wait! It doesn't really matter if I can just diegetically involve myself in his life; I can stop his family and friends from finding out, and I can stop him from ruining our last chance!

"You! Arch wizard! I have been sent by the goddess Aerostrada to prepare Mark for his destiny!"

Murlock quickly pieced the scene together. The seal, Mark's light, his preparation.
Mark thought the way she deepened her voice to sound more imposing was a little dumb.

"By Areo, my lady, forgive me! What is needed, I will stand at the ready to serve!"

Ahhh, shoot, think, think, words really matter right now! Why'd I pick Aero, that snotty brat! Will be onto us and twist my arms any way she wants! Come on girl, you're capable, at least make your lies workable.
It's completely fine to be serving as Mark's familiar. Gods are free to interact with people in most any way they choose; they just can't live someone's life for them, by literal control, or by putting more burden on an individual than they are ready to take. Simple bounds, I can't ruin this.

"For now, make no mention of your deeper knowledge to either of the boys' parents. The potency of this knowledge would needlessly endanger him."

"Thank you, this burden will be ours and ours alone, my lady."

The devotion in his voice scared her. Oh no. She'd realized more of what she'd done. This was an entirely life-changing experience; scarcely any mortal knew Areo was really there, as the reigning deity to watch over this world. Had she turned the spunky wizard into a prophet? Areo would find out much sooner than later. Ugg, this interacting with people's lives thingy is really hard to do with god like powers, without shifting the entire trajectory of everyone's lives. In the scope of things, she'd only recently made it as a preparation goddess, who merely prepped souls and managed reports. Actually, balancing out lives and how people interact and interpret stuff was way out of her league. 

"Y-Yes, thank you. Do that. Mark, you and I will talk on our own, later."

Mark raised his hands, they shook as he did, honestly, after all this, and straining to speak with all his memories, he was quite close to passing out.

"What do I say to my parents?"

Everyone's attention swirled around that. Murlock knew Adelle would be furious for letting her son practice magic so soon, and now as divine mandate, he couldn't use that calling as an excuse. He'd most definitely lose grandson privileges.
Goji's head spun; she'd maybe decided to take Mark up on his silly request and join him. In hopes of making sure he didn't botch this life. But ten minutes into meeting, and everything was precariously in motion, even if it wasn't just Mark and her life in danger. The lives of his family were already changing.
Mark felt the pull of a sudden, exhausted sleep drag at him from afar. This was suddenly a lot of pressure mounting. The storm from before was starting to seem preferable. He really was supposed to do something grand with his life. And he really didn't feel up to the task.

Mark spoke very wise words for his age.

"Can we worry about this later?"

At least, for that moment, the three of them agreed that they were wise words. And heeded the counsel given. They could prepare their rebuttals for what life had in store, maybe a day or two down the road. And with that, Mark's little body collapsed.