Osric sat heavily in the chair, cradling his head in his hands.
“I fear it was not just a threat. If he is seeking to control life itself, his army may be something altogether different than what we are anticipating.”
“Do you remember that book I brought with me the first time I was here?”
“Of course. It’s there on the shelf behind you.”
“I would like to add my recent readings to it while they are still so imposing on my mind.” Aridis turned to the large bookcase behind him, seeking his journal. “Have you studied it at all?”
“I have read through it several times, but I guess I cannot see what you see in the pathways. I had hoped that you would be back soon so we could discuss it more.” Osric watched Aridis curiously. The old man’s hand hovered over the journal, but his eyes were focused in another direction. Slowly, his hand drifted to the right and picked up the small stone that Orson had given Osric in exchange for his room and board. As Aridis’s fingers closed over the stone, Osric’s Portentist gift flared to life. His mind grew clear and his eyes focused on the contact between Aridis’s hand and the stone. It was a momentous event, and his entire body tensed as he prepared for what would be revealed. His muscles quivered in anticipation as he lifted his gaze just enough to take in the whole scene and watch the event unfold.
With the stone grasped firmly in his palm, Aridis’s eyes glazed over and his body trembled slightly. After several moments, Osric began to grow concerned. He was walking around the table toward the old man when Aridis forcefully placed the stone on the table and gazed up at Osric with a slack-jawed expression.
“Where did you find this?”
“It was given to me by a traveling merchant. Why? What was that?”
“That stone just activated my gift the way I used it to track that deer.”
“What?”
“I believe I just witnessed the memories of another man. My gift allows me to see the potential held in various future events, but only twice have I used it to witness the past. That stone—whatever it is—just used my gift to show me a conversation. It felt exactly like it did the times I have seen past events with my ability.”
“I have been attempting to study the stone because the structure of the strands is unlike anything I have ever seen. But it has never directly activated a gift on contact. What did you see?” Osric stared at the stone sitting on the table between them, tempted to touch it but fearing the result.
“I experienced what I can only call someone else’s memory, but it was as if the memory was my own. I was instructing a child on how to store a memory. I—or he, I suppose—cast a spell on the stone and then held it between his hands as he spoke. He described how the strands of magic flow constantly through the center of Archana. Various currents and flows result in some areas where magic is more concentrated and closer to the surface, allowing for greater potential in the use and manipulation of magic. Then, he had the child try it with his own stone.”
“I have never heard of storing memories in rocks, but a spell that complex may account for the pattern of strands that I have yet to sort through as I peer at it.”
“Osric, the child was not human. I did not recognize his race. He was very thin, with skin the color of pale stone and hair like liquid silver.”
“I‘m not familiar with a race that fits that description, either. Is it possible that the vision was not a memory?”
“If the correct path is taken, anything is possible, but I cannot call it anything other than a memory. If this occurred in the past, it must have happened long enough ago that this race was alive on Archana,” Aridis insisted. Osric’s Portentist gift was pulling his focus toward the small stone as Aridis’s words echoed through his head. He knew there was something terribly important about it, but he struggled to make sense of it.
“Aridis, you said that the child made one also? Do you think that there are more of these somewhere? Perhaps more that can tell us about magic from that time or more about the race itself?”
“It seems reasonable to expect that to be so. Where did you say it came from?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I know how to find out.” Osric headed for the door. The evening meal would still be served for a while. He needed a distraction to take his mind off of Bridgett not returning, and he knew just where he would likely find Orson.
Osric hurried through the halls, caught up in thoughts of mysteries and prophecy. He was tired of being bombarded by questions with no answers. He fought off the resentment and guilt that plagued him for being so immersed in his feelings for Bridgett. He had been thrust into a position of leadership, but he felt as though he had failed at every crossroad. If he had to lead, he only wanted to do it well. Perhaps there was finally a mystery before them that they could solve.
Night was falling fast, and young apprentices were busy practicing spells by lighting various devices throughout the halls. Some were casting small flames onto the wicks of oil lamps, while others encouraged soft luminance from stones set into the walls. The determination and joy on their small faces weighed even more heavily on Osric’s shoulders. The implications of impending war were a constant reminder that his failure could result in the deaths of everyone in his city—everyone who resided in those halls because they believed in him.
When Osric reached the mess hall with Aridis close behind him, he strode purposefully through the large room in search of the big ursidae. For a moment, he thought he might have missed Orson, though he rarely left while food was still being served. Then he spotted the massive bear’s bulk over in a corner finishing off a pile of sweet rolls with sticky claws. Eublin sat across the table from Orson with a cup of rulha, and Gus sat perched on the table near an empty plate. Osric and Aridis took seats nearby, waiting patiently for Orson to finish speaking before interrupting.
“I noticed just how weak the ceiling was, and I got out of the cave as quick as these thick legs could move!” He laughed from deep in his belly, and his stomach shook as he leaned back on the bench. “I will forever refer to those days as my days of desperation.”
Orson greeted the new audience members with a smile. “These are the days of bounty, thanks to my wonderful employer.” He nodded respectfully toward Osric. “Glad you could join us for a snack.”
“As if there is anything left in the pantries,” Gus grumbled, causing Orson’s girth to resume its jostling as he laughed.
“Actually, Orson, there has been a development in the study of your stone. I was hoping you could tell me exactly where you found it.” Osric rested his arms on the table and leaned forward in anticipation.
“I found it up north, in the snowy hills to the east of Davensridge. I came upon some wreckage and thought it would be a good place to scrounge for valuables. The place looked to be an old trade route, but it must have been abandoned about the time the town was deserted.” He shrugged his massive shoulders.
Gus barely let Orson finish describing the location before he pressed Osric for more information.
“What do you mean, a development? What’s happened?”
“Aridis has discovered that the stone seems to hold a memory. It triggered his gift.” Gus’s ears twitched subtly as he waited for Osric to continue, but he was soon scowling when no more information was forthcoming.
“That’s it? Well, Aridis, what did you see?” Gus deliberately turned away from Osric and focused his attention on the older man sitting beside him.
“It was not so much seeing as experiencing. It was like I was reliving a memory that did not belong to me. A man was teaching a boy how to create the stones, to store a memory with a spell, but the boy was not human. I did not recognize his race.”
“Could it be that this was something someone created, rather than an actual memory?” Eublin inquired, adjusting the small gold spectacles on his large nose.
“It is certainly possible, but there is no way for us to know unless we seek out more of these stones. Anything is possible, inclu
ding the possibility that there are more stones containing the memories of a race that no longer exists on Archana. If that is the case, then we must discover the knowledge contained within them. Perhaps they can answer questions about this world that we would never have thought to ask.” Aridis clasped his hands and rested them on the table, looking to Osric to determine their next actions.
“Are you certain that the boy was of a race unknown to Archana today? There are many races in this world that are not familiar to most.” Eublin’s tone indicated that he was more intrigued by the idea of an ancient race than doubtful of Aridis’s worldly knowledge.
“Perhaps he was of a race merely unfamiliar to me, but my gift has shown me much that a man who wandered the world for several lifetimes would never see. His skin was pale like unpolished marble. His frame was very thin and frail, and his hair gleamed like liquid silver. He wore only a robe with short sleeves, belted at the waist, and sandals on his feet. As I was experiencing the memory, I was speaking to the boy, instructing him. My voice was odd and unfamiliar, though I have not heard any accent similar to it. Yet, it still seemed to be my voice in tone. The words were strung together in an effortless manner. Vowels were elongated to almost insulting lengths, and consonants seemed to be an afterthought to his tongue.” Eublin listened closely to Aridis’s description, nodding here and there and scrunching up his brow in thought. After a moment of intense pondering, his eyes went wide and his white hair seemed to stand up even higher from his big ears.
“I believe you are correct in your assessment of the race being extinct. I have seen a similar description before.” Eublin jumped up quickly, nearly upsetting the cups and plates on the table, and headed for the door. Halfway there, he stopped and looked back at the group with a confused expression. “Well, aren’t you coming? The book is in my study.” The four companions at the table gazed at each other in dismay. Shaking their heads, they all stood up and followed Eublin from the mess hall. For being just half Osric’s height, the gnome moved surprisingly quickly, and the others hurried after him through the halls. They reached the door to Eublin’s study, where all of his books had been relocated from the Grove of Unicorns, and filed in while the gnome disappeared behind a stack of books. They traded looks of curiosity and amusement as they awaited his return.
He appeared shortly, balancing a great big book before him on outstretched arms. Osric quickly lifted the burden from Eublin’s grasp, placing the book on a nearby table as the gnome pulled up several chairs. Eublin flipped through the pages quickly yet carefully, never failing to maintain the utmost reverence for the old texts his office housed. Near the end of the large tome, he stopped and scanned the page with a scrutinous eye.
“Aha. Here we are.” His finger landed lightly on a line of small, delicate script along the bottom of a vague sketch. The image depicted a figure gathering the leaves of a plant. The being had very thin limbs and long hair, and it wore a simple robe. Eublin read the caption: “Slipstitch, a rare and fragile plant found only in the hills near Er’diamin, is fatal in large doses but often used in the winter rituals of the Caldereth. Some say it is the oils of this plant that give the Caldereth’s hair its liquid silver sheen.”
Eublin looked up excitedly after reading the description. Aridis’s face was pale and strained as he peered down at the page.
“Aridis, are you okay?” Eublin asked, catching Gus and Osric’s attention.
“Aridis?” Osric joined in with echoing concern.
“It’s just…” Thick lines formed between Aridis’s brows. “That picture. The boy in that sketch is an exact resemblance of the boy in the stone recording. It’s as if they drew a picture of the same boy in that book, the same day they made the stone. I think…” He spoke cautiously. “Osric, I think the three of us should go to the location where Orson found these stones. Maybe we will get lucky and find more of them. I would love to find out if the Caldereth made these or if they were just in the recording when it was made.”
“The three of us?”
“Well, Orson is the only one who knows the location. I have the gift that can decipher the stones, and you…”
“And I have too many responsibilities here. I can’t go charging off after every mystery that presents itself.” Osric had been learning just how foolish some of his choices had been in the past. The last thing he wanted was to be making the same decisions after hindsight had shown him just how lucky he was to have made it as far as he had, given his past.
“Go.” Gus prompted him. “It’s not like you have been doing a whole lot of good around here while your head was stuck in a mead glass. We’ve managed to do just fine for months. I’m sure we can manage not destroying ourselves for a day while you’re gone.”
“Gus, I realize I haven’t been the most diligent in my duties lately, but that is exactly why I can’t go. I must see to my priorities here, and that includes being present and available.”
“My back is too old to carry the weight of many stones, and ursidae claws aren’t meant for delicate work. We need your array of gifts to ensure a successful trip; otherwise, I would ask any one of the young men in our camp. Who knows what gifts can aid us. Either we take you or I select a dozen other men to take your place, and I don’t think a dozen men inside a small cave is a good idea.” Aridis’s reasonable tone carried more weight than any of Gus’s ranting. “Artifacts that old and with that much potential may be too delicate for that sort of ruckus.”
“He makes a very good point, Osric,” Eublin added. “Though your presence here is valuable, you may be the only one capable of retrieving these stones undamaged in an amount of time that will be useful to us.” Osric felt the weight of four sets of eyes watching him intently, as everyone waited for him to make the call.
“If anything were to go wrong here, you would be sure to notify me, right? I can’t stand the thought of leaving to chase after a possible answer when there is so much to do here.”
“Oh, strands! You haven’t been any help at all around here for months. Every time something has come up, we have dealt with it. Everyone here is capable of managing any crisis that arises. Is your head so full of new abilities that there is no room left for logical thoughts?” Gus shouted and stomped his small, furry foot down with angry authority. Every face in the room gazed at Gus in shock, but Osric’s expression quickly turned to resignation and hurt.
“You’re right. Everyone here can manage just fine. If there is anything new to be learned from these stones, then it is important we find them and learn what we can. We will leave first thing in the morning.”
13 – De’assartis
Bridgett rushed to Ashir, fearing the worst. She worried that something had happened to Aridis, and she berated herself for letting him fly off in such a state of exhaustion. She never should have asked him to go to Stanton so soon after performing the tiring scrying into the mystery of the deer’s past.
“What’s happened?” Ashir was looking at her, but his focus seemed to be elsewhere. Bridgett wrung her hands nervously as she waited for him to give her the message. The dragon’s silence was brief, but for Bridgett it seemed that an eternity passed before he responded.
“Aridis arrived safely in Stanton and delivered the coin. It seems that just before they landed, Osric was visited by a See’er and learned of the reason for your unannounced departure.” Bridgett’s emotions twisted inside of her. She was grateful that Aridis had arrived without incident, but she was unprepared for the tidal wave of despair that hit her at how it must have hurt Osric for her to leave without saying goodbye. She knew that his heart would break before she left, but being confronted with it brought the emotions flooding up within her. She tried to slow her breathing and remain calm while Ashir continued with the message. “The See’er informed him that the prophecy was misinterpreted. Osric says that having you at his side is his greatest desire, and your love will bear no threat to the realm. He begs you to come home.”
Bridgett’s heart raced and her
knees trembled, nearly buckling beneath her. Her vision wavered, flashing between a hazy view of the Elven forest and images of Osric’s eyes. How could it be possible? Ashir lowered his head to her side, and Bridgett steadied herself against him. Her thoughts were mere fragments of confusion, disbelief, and guilt. Osric’s despair, my tears and loneliness, the months of unhappiness. All of the pain I caused us both has been for nothing? Can it be true? She saw the beaded curtain as she had passed into the fortune-teller’s shop. She could still the see the images swirling vividly in the water. How can it have meant anything other than what it seemed? She desperately wanted to believe that she could be with Osric again, but doubt nibbled at her thoughts. The death and destruction that resulted in the vision from her staying with Osric could not be ignored. Perhaps he was wrong.
“Ashir, are you sure that message is from Osric?” The possibility that someone could be trying to sabotage the mission of Osric and his people flashed through her mind. She knew it was unlikely, but not entirely impossible, that those initiating the war could have found the See-er who had first shown her the prophecy.
“No, the message comes from Aridis. He is with Osric in Stanton.” Bridgett grasped her head in her hands. She felt torn in two by her conflicting emotions, but her elation about the possibility of being with Osric won out. For a brief moment, she completely forgot where she was. She was moving to climb to Ashir’s back and travel immediately back to Stanton when a hand on her elbow startled her back to her surroundings. She turned to see Velien standing at her side.
“If you wish to enter, you must go with me now.” The implications of his words hit her like a fist in the stomach. She could run back to Osric and fall into his arms, or she could take her only chance at securing him an army that could end the war before it truly started. She didn’t have a choice. Two hearts were not worth the lives of their people, their friends. She turned back to the dragon.
The Well of Strands (Osric's Wand, Book Three) Page 14