* * *
Voices pulled at him as the light beyond his eyelids sent stabbing pain through Osric’s skull. He could not bear to open his eyes, and the words rattled around in his mind. He drifted in and out of sleep without being able to grasp the meaning behind the conversation that was taking place nearby.
“The elves be reporting more dragon attacks. Two more cities be burned to the ground this week. They be claiming something about the Mother falling silent, whatever that be meaning.”
“The Mother is the city itself. I heard the trees sing, and if she has fallen silent then it is a dark day in the Elven Realm indeed. Has anyone actually seen the dragon they claim is responsible?”
“They be saying he be a great black beast. I cannot be saying they do not be stretching the truth, but the last report be making him three times the size of Stargon. If it be true, it be a bigger dragon than I ever be hearing existed.”
“I still find it so hard to believe that a dragon would attack any Elven city. I know Ashir says that not all dragons are as benevolent as those we have met, but I don’t want to believe that it is true.”
“If we did not be all tangled up in the Angmar resistance, we’d be sending out men to be seeking the truth behind the claims. We cannot be sparing the resources to be chasing after a rogue, fire-breathing brute.”
“I assured the elves that I would do what I could to help them find out what was happening to the Elvenwood. I intend to be true to my word, even if that means returning myself.”
“Aye, ye be a brave and brainless girl sometimes, me lady. If ye be prancing back up to the gates in the woods, the elves’ll be sending a shaft through ye heart. Ye best not be running off again.”
* * *
“This truly is fascinating. I am glad that you contacted me while I was away to inform me of this discovery. Still, I feel that we are missing something.”
“The journal indicates that there are dozens of these locations around Archana, but there were only descriptions of a handful that the author suspected he had identified. Has Stargon had any news from the dragons about the locations I told him of?”
“So far, he has had little to tell us. The places you sent them to vary from isolated desert or forest to sprawling cities. There is no visible sign of anything unusual in what they have seen. However, two of the sites are old ruins: one in the Elven Realm and one in the mountains north of the dwarves. Stargon insists that there is nothing to be discovered from the air, and he continues to grumble that our request is impossible. He still has a few of the dragons seeking out the last of the locations on your list, though.”
“Hmm. Perhaps he is correct that it is impossible, but I fear that Dredek may already know more than we do about these places. He was able to discover the location of the Well of Strands before we were even sure it existed.”
“Have you made any progress on the map you found in the journal?”
“Very little, although I am currently exploring the possibility that these hotspots create some sort of pattern. If I can discern the pattern with the ones we know of, perhaps I can predict where the others are located.”
“Well, we must assume that Dredek has gained access to the Well of Strands. It is impossible to know what that amount of raw magic can do in the hands of such a wizard. I suspect that we will need all of the resources we can muster to counter him, and these smaller wells could very well give us what we need.”
“I concur. If, however, Dredek knows of them as well, it is possible that he will have them guarded. We must continue looking. Perhaps we should send some men to those ruins and have a look around.”
“I fear that we cannot spare the men for a while, at least until Osric awakens and we can formulate a plan for defeating Dredek. The irua boy that has knowledge of the well is still unable to communicate well enough in Common, though he is learning quickly. However, he has refused to speak to any of the irua here who can translate for him because he says he is forbidden from revealing sacred knowledge to anyone who is not, as he says, aware. We still have no idea what that means, but it seems that Bridgett must fit the criteria since he took her to the Well of Strands in Angmar.”
“I agree that he is our greatest hope of learning of these smaller wells. From Bridgett’s description of the magic he used to enter the well, we may not ever locate them unless we can find someone who can and will guide us there. Keep working with the boy so he can answer Bridgett’s questions.”
* * *
Osric’s head was spinning when consciousness returned. He rolled to one side and threw his legs off of the bed, sitting upright as nausea took hold. He was in his bunk, but he had no idea how he had gotten there. Happy stood from his spot in the corner and approached with care. He licked Osric’s hand, emitting a wave of emotions that felt to Osric like a mix of joy and concern. Osric heard a high-pitched squeal in both of his ears, and standing was out of the question. He retched several times with one hand gripping the table next to his bed for support, but nothing came out. How long has it been since I ate something?
After a few moments of struggling and listening to Happy whimpering, Osric was able to gain some semblance of an upright posture by propping himself up with the wall at his back. Osric took in several deep breaths, feeling victorious in the small achievement. No sooner had he completed the endeavor of standing than the door to his room flew open.
“Osric!” Bridget ran through the door with Pebble and Gus on her shoulders.
“Unicorn!” Pebble jumped off of her shoulder and onto the bed, bounding about with childlike playfulness.
“I was wondering when you were going to join the rest of us.” Gus nodded respectfully as both Bridget and Pebble embraced him.
“How long was I out?” Osric inquired as he was helped to a more comfortable position at the edge of the bed and steadied there by Bridget’s arm.
“Just over a month,” Bridget replied. “I was beginning to worry whether you would wake up at all.” Her eyes were wet, and dark circles had settled deep beneath them. She smiled through the threat of tears, and her voice took on a forced cheerful note. “But you are awake just in time for the anniversary meal.”
“We all were worried, but then my lad’s alarm went off and we ran here as quick as we could.” Gus ruffled Pebble’s hair playfully, to the young prairie dog’s amusement.
“I used the same spells that Unicorn used on my birthday,” Pebble said, giggling.
Osric was shocked by how much his speech had changed since he had last spent time with the pup. He sounded older. Something that Bridgett had said had caught his full attention, and Osric looked up at her questioningly.
“Anniversary meal?” He didn’t know if he was more confused by Gus’s playful nature, Pebble’s maturity, or Bridgett’s statement.
“Ryhain Toby felt that it was necessary to remember the day the palace was brought down. He gave a very moving speech in which he promised to toast Stanton’s unyielding spirit at a yearly gathering. He nearly emptied the coffers to pay for the food needed to feed the entire town, and it’s some extravagant fare.”
“It’s been a year already?” Osric placed his head in his hands.
“Yes, it has. We should let you know that Dredek has captured Angmar, but we’ve only lost twenty of our Aranthian troops in the process. There is more news on that front, but Macgowan wanted to be the one to tell you. We promised to let him be the courier of that particular bit of information.” Gus’s voice was gruff, but he had lost his characteristic sarcasm and crudeness.
To Osric’s surprise, the news of the Aranthians’ success in battle had more of an effect on him than the news of the twenty troops they had lost. Was he becoming more like the military leaders he had trained under? Was the loss of the twenty men not as meaningful as it used to be? While he had expected the number to be much higher, Osric felt that the loss of twenty good men should weigh heavier on his mind.
“We have some wonderful members. The Aranthians have been
blessed to find so many skilled individuals.” Something tugged at Osric’s memory—something about the battle.
“You did a wonderful job teaching the men; the credit is all yours, my boy.” Gus’s kind words seemed out of place as they tumbled from his mouth.
“Wait.” Osric closed his eyes and placed his palms on his forehead. He could feel their eyes boring into him. They were being cordial—too cordial.
He had led the Aranthians into battle for the first time and failed. He had failed to save the irua from certain extinction, but somehow, in spite of a year of growing in power, he had also been bested in battle. He had set out not only to rescue a race but also to save Bridgett.
His powerful wand had failed to be the deciding factor, and so had all the new magics he had learned. Spoken spells failed to yield results, as well as dual wielding and all typical magics known to all. Not only had he failed spectacularly on every expectation; now those he depended on for honesty and clarity were coddling him.
The room spun again. Osric’s frustration began to mount to new heights. He was used to making mistakes. He was used to minor failures in judgment coming back to haunt him a year later. The one thing he could always count on was that his actions would be honestly reflected in the reactions of those he trusted.
“What in the dank, decaying, worm-eaten bones of my grave are you two doing?” His voice was low, and emotion ran thick in his words. “You should know better.” Osric pointed a shaky hand at Gus. He had heard him say something about his treatment, or had that been a dream?
“Osric, what’s wrong?” Bridgett’s voice was thick with concern.
“Now look here, boy.” Indignation was plainly evident on Gus’s face.
“Anyone feeling a bit peckish?” Kenneth peeked in through the door to his room, carrying a plate. Osric hadn't realized how hungry he was until the smell hit his senses, causing a deluge of salivation in his mouth. “I managed to find a bit of food tucked away in the cold storage. Our deliveries haven't shown up yet, so this is all that’s left.” He shrugged.
“This is the last of the food? How can we be out of food?” Panic rose in Osric’s mind. As his heartbeat quickened and he leaned forward with concern, dizziness overcame him and he fell back against the stone wall clumsily.
“Whoa, whoa there,” Kenneth spoke in a calming voice. The room’s other occupants echoed his statements. “We’ve gone to a daily delivery schedule to keep spoilage to a minimum on the items we bring in. That was James’s new helper, David’s idea. The cattle you purchased should be arriving any day, and as for the vegetable garden…” His voice lingered a bit too long. “Well, let’s just say that Jane won’t let anyone into the garden at night. She is rather fond of tending it lately and has guards posted at both entrances at night to keep out the people who aren’t supposed to be in there.”
“I imagine it is for good reason. Those who don’t understand how to keep plants healthy should not be allowed near them.” Bridgett spoke playfully as she grabbed the plate out of Kenneth’s hands and set it in Osric’s lap. Something in her voice hinted that the gesture was more than just a suggestion. “So, as you can see, you have nothing to worry about.”
“I have everything to worry about,” Osric said solemnly, gnawing at the cold sausage. Even though it consisted of cold leftovers, the meal was delicious. Memories of the battle with Dredek had started to return as his body began to awaken.
“What do you mean you have everything to worry about?” The disdain in Gus’s voice had returned to a normal level.
“Dredek has a half-dozen gifts.”
“What?” The word shot out of every mouth, even Pebble’s.
“Eight gifts, to be exact. I’m not sure how to describe it either, but something is wrong with the gifts.” Osric closed his eyes, remembering the moment Dredek had invited him to view him with the ability.
“Boy, you have been asleep for a long time. Are you sure you didn’t dream this?” Though his voice was cautious, Gus was betrayed by his twitching ear revealing his true concern.
“I am certain of it. He asked me to look at them. That was before he beat me. I don’t understand what he did either.”
“I’m not sure how, but he cut your Portentist ability right out of you. If you were a normal man, you would be dead.” Gus cast a cold gaze at the wall.
“What?” Osric searched the faces in the room for clarification. Then he realized that he hadn’t felt the gift signify anything important while he was asleep or at any point in the conversation they were currently having.
He had been a Portentist his entire life. Not being able to count on the gift would alter the way he did everything. The worst part was that he had barely begun to learn how to use the new gifts he had been given. How was he going to be able to function as the leader of the Aranthians if he was going to be stumbling around like a child for years as he learned to master another ability? Which ability would he start with? It wasn’t like choosing a pair of socks. Gifts took a lifetime to master, and he had been more than proficient in his birth-gift already. There was simply not enough time for him to master another one. As panic rose to a crescendo, Kenneth’s voice broke the silence.
“Gus, you should probably tell him that the Portentist gift is growing back. If you don’t, it looks like he could begin to sob any minute.”
“Oh, yes it is. It should be fully grown and functioning within days.” Gus rattled out the words as if they had no importance.
Osric felt a rush of joy at the news, and then his cheeks turned red. Had it really been that obvious that the news had affected him so much? He looked back at Kenneth questioningly.
“What? We just got you two back together. I didn’t want her to think of you as less of a man for wailing over a gift you’re getting back.” He shrugged.
In spite of the circumstances, Osric found a new appreciation for the way Kenneth could always make light of troubling news. They hadn’t had much time to talk since Osric had formed the Aranthians and Kenneth was appointed Contege. Mentally, he decided that they would have to spend more time together, in spite of whatever events occurred in the future.
“And if he can take your gift away, then maybe that can account for his having multiple gifts as well,” Gus continued, as if there had been no interruption to his previous train of thought.
“How could that explain anything?” Bridgett questioned.
Osric and Kenneth returned their attention to Gus.
“Well, as you know from wand-making demonstrations, the formation of strands that make up a wand are different sizes, depending on the material you are grafting the wand to.” Gus pulled his wand out of somewhere hidden and jumped down to the floor. He approached the leg at the foot of the bed. “Somebody hand me a wand.”
“You have one in your hand.” Osric objected.
“A wand! Somebody. Quickly now. Hand me another wand!”
“Here.” Bridgett handed hers over.
“Good. Thank you for your cooperation.” He pointed his wand at the newly acquired wand before he spoke. “Bridgett, you have had a month to practice. Do you think you can use the Wand-Maker gift on command?”
“Yes, I think I have grown fairly proficient.”
“Wait, what?” Osric asked. Then he remembered their conversation via wand. “Oh, never mind.”
“Yes, yes. You can discuss this all at a later time. My aching bones, I have a room full of new Wand-Makers, and not one of them will shut up long enough to listen to the only one here who is a master.” Gus shook his head in disappointment. Then he motioned for each of them to look at what he was about to do.
The room grew quiet as each of them, Osric, Kenneth, Bridgett, Gus, and Pebble, activated their Wand-Maker gifts.
Osric took a moment to gaze at Bridgett with his gift. She noticed the movement and obligingly turned slightly in his direction to allow a better glimpse. To his surprise, he could see dozens of gifts still forming, as well as five fully grown gifts within her:
Empath, Wand-Maker, Hunter, Portentist, and See-er. He quickly shook off the questions he wanted to blurt out, knowing that Gus would respond by hurling a tirade of rebukes at him. So, he turned his attention back to the lesson at hand.
Then, the sight of Gus brought the shock and confusion back. Gus had nearly the identical set of gifts operating within him, with the exception of the Empath gift, which was still in the developing stage. His attention then drifted again to Pebble, who had a dozen fully matured gifts and even more still growing within.
It had only been moments, and Gus hadn’t yet begun when Osric blurted out, “Aramar’s wand! We’re all multi-gifted!”
“Finally, the slow student learns what the rest of us have known for weeks. Now, shut up and focus on what I am about to teach you.” He motioned again at his hands, and with much effort Osric turned his attention to what was being taught.
“As Wand-Makers we can manipulate strands.” With a small motion of his wrist, Gus made the interwoven strands of the wand flex in the direction he probed. “And I made this particular wand to fit this stick. Just as I made this wand to fit this stick.” He held out the wand he used to probe the other. They were identical in structure, but the wand Gus used on a daily basis was understandably smaller than the one that Bridgett used.
“The sticks are different sizes, so I modified the strands to the proper length so that I could attach them within the stick I was using.” He looked each of them in the eye to make sure they were following his thought process. Once they each confirmed their understanding, he continued.
“The rest of this is an experiment. I have never attempted this before.” Gus smiled. “Now, if I were to take this wand and graft it to, let’s say, the leg of your bed. I don’t think it would fit as well as it does in its current location, do you?”
“No,” a chorus of voices spoke in unison.
“Let’s see.” With a quick motion, Gus pulled the stick back, holding the strands that made the wand in place until they pulled free, and then rushed to place it within the upright post of the bed.
The Well of Strands (Osric's Wand, Book Three) Page 28