“What a nice cocoon you have created for yourselves here. Might I beg an audience with the High Wizard?”
“Who are you talking to?” Chanda sat up in annoyance. She was startled half out of her wits at the sudden sight of five armed men standing directly between her and Serha. Scrambling to her feet, she stumbled and fell to the ground before them. Childish giggling echoed around her, and she looked up to see Serha holding her round belly as she laughed uncontrollably. A smile creased the stern face of the man at the lead of the guards as Chanda turned a distinct shade of red from embarrassment.
“That was even funnier to watch in reality than it was when I saw the vision,” Serha said between bursts of giggling.
“You are a mean, old woman,” Chanda whined as she brushed the dirt and grass from her skirt.
“Hardly. Had it not played out exactly as I saw it when I was a young girl, how could I know that prophecy had not been irrevocably shifted by your pathetic meddling?”
“So, will you stop accusing me of initiating the end of the world yet?”
“I doubt it, but right now I need to finish this. It may be the last thing I do.”
“Are we interrupting you ladies?” the lead guard broke into their banter.
“My apologies, gentlemen. I would like to formally request an audience with the High-Wizard, whomever he may be.”
“You are here to speak with the High-Wizard, but you do not know who he is?” The youngest of the five spoke with a hint of sarcasm mixed with disbelief. One disapproving glance from his superior silenced him.
“Yes. I am Serha, a See’er from another part of the realm. I had a vision as a young girl, and it has led me here to make this request. I believe I have information that will help him somehow…” Her voice trailed off slightly.
“Yes, well, unfortunately the High-Wizard is unavailable at this moment. If you will wait just a moment for an official to verify your identity, I can offer you a hot meal while your request is passed along to the proper authorities?”
“That would be delightful.” Serha grinned over at Chanda, then turned back and asked, “How will your official know who we are, exactly?”
“Oh, it isn’t who you are that we are concerned with.” As he spoke, a young woman approached them from the direction of the barracks. Chanda looked at her with suspicion. Rather than having exited the building, the woman seemed to have materialized. “So, Fallon, what do you think?”
“Yes, Hector, they can be trusted.” She directed her next statement at Serha and Chanda. “Ladies, I would like to officially invite you to the Barracks.” She turned and held her arm out toward the buildings. Where Chanda had seen the empty, haunting Vigile barracks only a moment ago, she now saw well-kept grounds with dozens of figures going about their business. Her mouth fell open in astonishment. Serha whistled softly and her words were barely audible.
“Why, that wasn’t what I was expecting at all.”
7 – The Hunted One
Macgowan watched the red glow of the iron as his hammer forged the tip of a wall anchor. Hooks for things such as clothing, pots and pans, and weaponry were not the most glamorous of creations a blacksmith could make, but the mundane creations filled most of his days. Swords, armor, and shields of grand design were how those who chose the craft made a name for themselves, but it was the skills learned from the everyday efforts that made them craftsman.
He knew that his name was already spoken with high praise in most parts. His armor adorned many a warrior across Archana, but he knew that he was far from the greatest. Though some who had reached his level of mastery refused to waste their time on such a pitiful task, Macgowan knew that this was where he honed his skills. There was too much of a need for forks, spoons, nails, curtain rods, and all manner of metal artifacts to leave them all to those only learning to strike hammer to anvil. Much to the delight of Leland, his apprentice working the bellows, Macgowan often handled those small, tedious jobs while Leland worked on larger projects he could learn greater lessons from. This was where Macgowan fine-tuned his abilities and continued to expand his knowledge.
There was a rhythm to the creation of any formed metal item, and it was fairly easy to predict the timing of wall hooks. Although the process was simple for such an object, the precision was no less important. Macgowan took pride in every piece of metal that met his hammer. He had already managed to finish off two dozen of the hooks, as well as two shovels and a pickaxe, with the help of his assistant. The lad looked a little worse for wear, however. He was still working efficiently, but his shoulders were hunched and he sank down onto a stool slowly, one hand on the small of his back. Even his voice sounded tired and taxed.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” said Leland. “I think I am going to wash up and make for the dining hall. Rumor says that James was getting a fresh delivery of beef, and I want to get there early.”
Macgowan looked down at the young Leland. The pleading expression was convincing, and Macgowan was sympathetic. The lad’s soot-covered face made his smile all the brighter, lending him an even younger appearance as he sat staring up at Macgowan with wide eyes.
“A delivery of beef?” Macgowan said. “If the cattle finally arrived, there should be plenty of meat to go around.”
“Well, I hear it is just a few carcasses, not a herd of cattle. They say we may be eating more tubers than meat again soon. Since that Ursidae arrived, they have been protective over the serving sizes as well. Gotta make it stretch now more than ever, and the sausage that he stocked up on has nearly disappeared over the last week.”
“I thought we had five head coming in last week?”
“They say that the negotiations are at a standstill until the pass opens up. Bandits have moved into the area. Kenneth’s heading up there with a slew of men to try to find them.”
Macgowan didn’t envy the lad’s worry-filled expression as he nodded his approval for him to leave. The young tended to worry a bit too much over things that were not in their hands to manipulate. He knew it would either work out for the best or it wouldn’t. Wasting time worrying about it would not help. They had to deal with the bandits, but Macgowan also knew that their fledgling organization was having a great deal of difficulty finding a way to support the growth that they were experiencing. Meat was only one of their worries. He suspected the shortage was due more to their lack of funds than to bandits in the mountains.
Macgowan rubbed a thick hand over the muscles in his shoulder and exhaled heavily. It was another satisfying day, the kind that made a man feel pride in what he did. Though he knew it wouldn’t help to worry, the uncertainty of what would happen to the people in the future and the hardships they were enduring in the present wore on his mind.
A nearly imperceptible chink, chink caught his ear, and he leaned over the wooden desk to see what had caused the sound. As he glanced down to the floor, he watched one bag of silver coins spill over from its position on top of two more while Pebble scurried out of the way of the avalanche.
“Careful, little one. I can mend anything made of metal, but I can’t patch up your broken bones. What’s the money for, anyway? Are you hoping to buy a weapon?”
“Shhh,” Pebble whispered and hid in a shadow under the desk. It wasn’t the playful, or even fearful, hiding of a child but more the practiced stealth of a youth who did not want to catch anyone’s eye.
“I’m sorry, but my voice would bring less attention than the clatter that pile brought when it toppled over. You need to be more careful if you want to stay hidden.” Macgowan raised his chin questioningly. “Do you want to explain who you are hiding from?”
“Pa.”
He watched as Pebble looked about, scouting his surroundings. The caution in his tone belied his youthful voice.
“Now, why would you be hiding from your father?”
“‘Cus he’s mad at me.” Pebble stared down at the ground and pouted. “I don’t know’s what I did, but he can’t yell’s at me if he can’t find
me.”
“Oh, Pebble. Your dad is probably worried sick about you.”
“Please don’t give me away. ’Sides, Osric needs more coins to fund the orga’zation, whatever that means. You gotsta help me give ’em the coins, ‘cus I wasn’t s’posed to hear them talkin’ about it. I’s been leavin’ the coins around the grounds, but I’s havin’ a hard time not gettin’ caught.”
“You are putting me in a very difficult situation here, Pebble. I can’t lie to your dad if he is looking for you. But you are right that they need all of the funds they can get.” Macgowan scratched his head and frowned. “I’ll tell you what. I will pass on these coins to Osric,” Pebble grinned up at the big blacksmith. “But I am also going to let your dad know we spoke. If he wants to speak with you, I won’t be able to help you again.”
“Ah, splinters!” Pebble looked sufficiently chastised, but he shouted over his shoulder as he ran off, “Just don’t tell’s him where I am. I’ll bring’s you more coins soon.”
8 – The Stones Speak
Aridis watched Bridgett push her food around on her plate. A polite but insistent clearing of his throat finally interrupted the sound of the utensils scraping the wooden dish.
“Has my lack of culinary skill defeated your appetite, or is there something you need to purge from your thoughts before you indulge?”
Bridgett glanced up, unsure of how to explain her encounter with the strange animal in the forest.
“Your cooking is wonderful, Aridis, as always. I am sorry.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I saw something in the woods today, and I do not know quite how to describe it.”
“Something unfamiliar? Perhaps I can help clarify; I know these woods fairly well.”
Bridgett smiled at the obvious understatement. Aridis was as familiar with the forest surrounding them as she had been with the Grove of Unicorns.
“Well, not exactly. It was a deer. Yet, there was something about it that makes that statement seem untrue.” Bridgett dropped her hands into her lap and sighed at the inadequacy of words.
“A deer?” Aridis leaned forward with an expression of intense curiosity on his aged features. “What could make a deer seem unlike a deer?”
“It looked like a deer, but it did not behave like one.” Bridgett hesitated, wondering how to explain the conflict between her senses and her gift. “It was not wary of my presence. It allowed me to touch it, and it did not spook.”
“That is strange, but you seem to have a connection with other creatures. Perhaps it sensed that you were an ally rather than a threat.”
“That’s just it, though. I had no connection with it at all.”
“What do you mean?” Aridis’s brow furrowed as Bridgett struggled to elaborate.
“With my Empath ability, normally I can sense another being by its emotions. There is always some aspect of a connection through my gift. Yet, this deer had no emotions. If I had only my gift to rely on, I would say it didn’t exist at all.” Bridgett fell silent, her attempt failing to fully convey her confusion and frustration.
“That is very un-deerlike indeed.” Aridis steepled his fingers beneath his chin in contemplation. “Is it possible that you were just startled and unable to focus the use of your gift?”
“Aridis, I could sense every creature in the forest for a day’s walk around me. I could sense the shifting of the forest itself. It was as if the trees were unsettled by the presence of this animal. It caused a wake of unrest in every creature as it passed. It followed me through the forest, and when I saw it I could nearly reach out and touch it, but I could not sense it with my gift.” Bridgett was fighting back tears, but her voice was steady and assured. “Aridis, I did reach out and touch him. He stood there as if I didn’t exist, and then he just walked off into the ruins. It was possibly the most distressing thing I have experienced in my life. My gift has never failed me.” Aridis’s eyes went wide and he rose quickly from his seat.
“The ruins?”
“Um, yes.” Bridgett was confused by the sudden change of subject, but she responded to the determined expression on Aridis’s face. “I could track the movement of the creature through the forest by the emotions of the other animals. I knew it was heading toward me, so I was hurrying through the woods to come back here. I guess I lost my way and ended up in the ruins instead.”
“Tell me, child, did you actually lose your way? Were you lost and merely stumbled upon the ruins?”
“I didn’t think so at the time. I was sure the lake was just over the hill, but when I reached the crest I was surprised to see the ruins before me instead.”
“Then perhaps I can learn more about this strange occurrence after all. There is more for those stones to tell than just the effect of wind on rock.” Aridis began hurriedly packing some items into a small sack. He paused with a vial aloft in each hand and asked suddenly, “Did you notice any dragons on your adventure?”
“No,” she lied, wanting to confirm her suspicions that he had them follow her. “Is there a reason I would have seen a dragon today while I was off on my own, Aridis?”
The old man ignored her question, returning to his task and mumbling under his breath, “Oversized brutes never follow instructions.” He slung the fully packed bag over his shoulder. “I would like you to accompany me to the ruins, my dear. However, there are a few items I must gather first, and it will be better if I go alone. I will be back in the morning.” He turned without waiting for her response and headed out the door.
Bridgett watched Aridis walk away, feeling relieved that he believed they would be able to learn more about the strange experience. Yet, she also felt confused and frustrated. She had no idea what Aridis wanted her to do, and she suspected he was hiding a great deal from her, but she also felt an unusually persistent conviction that she should trust him. Rather than sit and dwell in her thoughts, she curled up on her sleeping pallet and fell into a restless sleep.
When Bridgett awoke, the sun was just rising and Aridis had not returned. She brewed a hot cup of rulha and paced before the table. Her frustration grew as she waited, so she set down the mug and opted for the distraction of the outdoors. She walked outside and wandered along the shore of the lake.
Bridgett sensed the dragon approaching before she could see him, but the wind stirred up from his wings would have been enough to warn her of his arrival before he landed behind her. She turned to see the familiar, massive creature she had first met at the Braya Volcano entrance.
Stargon gazed back at her, his golden eyes swirling with affection. Bridgett couldn’t help but marvel at the deadly potential in the dragon’s physique, although she felt reassured, rather than intimidated, by his strength. She was thankful to have the amazing creature as an ally.
“I considered eating the deer.” His tone was quite matter-of-fact, but Bridgett could sense humor and merriment under the words. She felt a slight tremor of irritation that the dragons were conspiring with Aridis.
“So you were watching over me? Did Aridis task you with my welfare? It seems he has little confidence in my survival skills.” Bridgett pushed small agates into the wet gravel with her boot, frustration tingeing her voice with resentment.
“It is not for a lack of confidence, my lady—merely a concern for your safety. Though no dragon would need to be asked to protect you. You are dear to all dragons for your aid in freeing us.” Bridgett could feel waves of gratitude and something akin to a possessive loyalty radiating toward her from the dragon. She suddenly realized that the animal would put himself at risk to defend her, regardless of her humanity and the pain it must cause him to associate with her. Her race had been the pivotal force in enslaving the dragons for decades before she had helped set them free. She was humbled by his devotion, and all feelings of resentment fled from her like water evaporating in the summer sun.
“Your protection is greatly valued, Stargon. I feel I deserve far less than you would be willing to give, and I cannot thank you enough for your loyalty to Osri
c and to myself.”
“The freedom of my kin is worth more than my life. You deserve my allegiance because we owe our ability to live—to truly live—to you.” Stargon lowered his head to the ground near her feet in a graceful display between nodding and bowing. Bridgett smiled at the chivalric motion as she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his brow.
“So, you said you considered eating the deer. Did something about the animal change your mind?” Bridgett moved away from the water and sat down on a stretch of thick grass near the forest’s edge. Stargon curled up and rested his head nearby.
“I could tell you were frightened, so I tracked the deer as it approached you. From a distance, it seemed that it would be a fitting meal. I would have intercepted it in the ruins, but it was not good food.” The dragon hesitated slightly, seeming to find it difficult to articulate his impressions of the animal.
“What do you mean, ‘not good food’?” Bridgett felt her heart rate speed up as she anticipated his response. Stargon mulled over his thoughts before he spoke.
“Dragons live long lives, so eggs are laid rarely. Hatchlings are few, but they are greatly treasured by all dragon kin. The adults will hunt prey and take part of the kills back to nourish the young dragon.” Bridgett nodded to show she was listening intently to his story. “Sometimes, if the distance is great or the day is quite hot, the kill will not be satisfactory for feeding to the hatchling. The food is not good.” Stargon paused, making sure she understood what he meant. “The deer would not be good food for a hatchling.” Bridgett stared at the dragon, processing what his statement implied.
“Stargon, do you mean the deer was bad on the inside? How did you know?”
“The deer smelled wrong, and he did not behave like a deer. I just knew it was not good food.” Bridgett considered how an animal could smell like it was already rotten yet still be able to walk through the woods and stand before her in the ruins. The implications were far from clear, and she felt a cold shiver run up her spine.
The Well of Strands (Osric's Wand, Book Three) Page 8