When he was satisfied with the placement, he secured the strands, dropped his wand hand, and smiled.
“I was right!”
Osric quickly leaned forward, resting his hand on Bridget’s leg to stabilize his still-shaky frame. When he peered at the post, he was amazed to see the strands flopping around as if they had more room than they knew what to do with.
“Now, I could work at it and stabilize the strands a bit, but they are never the same as if they were fit to the leg of the bed to begin with. And, with enough time, I could probably get them stable enough so they merely vibrated. Who knows. Maybe I could stabilize them all together. But there is no chance I could do that if I had to try to work with the strands within myself. If Dredek is grafting gifts into his own body, it is likely that he is incapable of stabilizing to the point that they would look natural, the way ours do, since they are developing over time.” Gus’s ear was twitching madly. “I have no idea what that means for how those gifts might function.”
Machai opened the door, and seeing they were involved in an important conversation, he closed it quietly and stood respectfully silent, only nodding a gesture of greeting to Osric.
“I know that opportunities don’t present themselves enough for the two of us to be of one mind very often.” Osric looked Gus in the eye. “But that was genius, Gus.”
“Well, that still doesn’t explain how a half-dozen gifts can defeat dozens of gifts.” Kenneth said what any hunter would have said. Even Gus cocked his head in thought. But Osric had to answer to this one, and the truth came flooding back. He remembered everything that had been lost, and he even knew why Dredek was doing it.
“Actually, I can answer that one. He has had a long time to practice using his abilities.” Osric glanced around at his closest friends. He knew his words would be shocking, but they needed to know what he now understood. “Dredek is trying to bring the caldereth back from the dead.”
“What?” For the third time since he had awoken, every voice in the room spoke with decisive unity.
“Actually, I think Dredek may be the last surviving member of the caldereth race.”
“That’s impossible,” said Gus. “He would have to be…”
“Very, very old. But what do we know about the caldereth? Did they live as long as the elves do? It’s possible. If he has been killing people by taking their gifts all this time, then he could have had a lifetime to learn to use each of the gifts. We just started to understand the way the gifts interact when there is more than one. He could have mastered it easily by now.”
“Fine,” said Kenneth. “That makes sense, but what makes you think he’s a caldereth?” Sitting at the foot of the bed, he leaned forward and listened intently.
“Several separate events led me to that assumption. I have spoken with Dredek on a couple different occasions. Each of those conversations was short, but I tried to place his accent each time. I also noted the peculiar cast to his skin. At first I thought he had been burned as a child because it is taut and has a gloss to it.”
“Some women in the eastern tribes have the same look to them,” said Gus. “But it is the makeup they use. Don’t put any stock in that one, boy.” He waved his paw, dismissing the notion.
“I didn’t put any stock in either of them,” said Osric, “until I witnessed the recorded information on the stones that Aridis and I pulled out of the cave. The man that spoke on that recording had the same accent and the same general appearance. I thought nothing of it at the time, until Dredek was speaking to me right before he…”
“That’s a stretch.” Gus’s lips formed a thin line.
“I’m telling you, it’s true. He’s caldereth.” Osric scowled in return. His legs ached for movement, and the rigors of the passionate conversation brought his circulation back to a level that he felt would allow for better mobility.
“Assuming you are correct, what would lead you to believe he is attempting to resurrect the dead?” Bridgett interrupted.
“Aridis informed me of some odd practices Dredek had been engaged in in the wilderness. He brought a deer back to life. I think they may have killed the deer for the purpose of bringing it back—sort of an experiment. The problem is that he couldn’t get it right, and the deer was no longer connected to Archana when he brought it back. Bridgett, are you certain that the Well of Strands does in fact exist?”
“Yes. It was one of the most extraordinary sights I have ever had the pleasure of seeing. There is no doubt that what I witnessed was the Well of Strands of Eublin’s old books.”
“Dredek was hauling a dozen heavy chests into the tunnels under the protection of armed guards. I think he was hauling remains. I think he believes he can get better results if he can tap directly into Archana as a power source. That may be why he is taking gifts as well: he needs more power to achieve his goal of resurrecting the caldereth.”
The expression on Gus’s face suggested that he was looking for something to contradict what Osric had said, but he couldn’t find anything to refute it. The blank stares from the others spoke volumes as well.
“I be thinking we may be needing aid from Firefalls. If we be bringing the fight into the tunnels, I do not be thinking humans’ll be of much use. Ye be needing the tunnel dwelling experience of me Dwarven kin.” Machai stepped forward and looked Osric in the eye.
“Do you think they will send aid?” Osric asked.
“Having a few more dwarves around could actually be a great deal of help,” Bridgett affirmed.
“We didn’t start losing men until they fought their way into the tunnels. That could give you the edge you need to get to where Dredek will be hiding.” Kenneth shrugged in agreement.
“I can be making ’em understand the need to be helping.” Machai touched the head of the axe behind his shoulder.
“Great,” Gus snapped. “Another one who is too fond of overly dramatic statements.”
“How much time to do you need?” Osric asked. He loved the idea, but he was curious to know what Machai had in mind.
“I’ll be bringing as many of me kin as I can be recruiting in a week. We must be striking while the iron be hot!”
“No, you don’t need to rush. If we are going to do this, we need to do it right. Take as much time as you need. We will leave when you can bring me five hundred dwarves who volunteer to fight.” Osric didn’t want anyone who was unwilling to offer aid.
“But what about the loss of lives, boy?” Gus shouted. “Machai is right; you need to go or Dredek may bring an end to the lives of all the irua.”
“No,” said Osric. “Dredek doesn’t want to kill any more than he has to. He may only have one chance at this, and he isn’t about to rush through it. He wants to bring a whole race back from the dead, not bring another to extinction.” Osric rubbed his legs again as all eyes surveyed him skeptically. “Trust me. We have the time. While he is preparing, we will step up our recruiting efforts as well. I don’t want to leave until we have at least a thousand men in fighting shape.”
A few moments passed as each person nodded in reluctant agreement. They would mount an assault on Angmar with the support of the dwarves. Right then, Osric thought about the extensive network of tunnels and the mysteries they may hold. The insurmountable task that was before him filled him with a great deal of apprehension.
“I need some air.” Osric leaned forward to get out of bed, only to be met by the assisting hands of Bridgett and Kenneth.
“Let us help you until you get your legs back.” Kenneth smirked. Gus and Pebble went ahead and got the door for them as they brought Osric to his feet and steadied his first steps.
“Thanks,” said Osric. “But I think the food and conversation went a long way toward me being able to walk on my own.” Sadly, saying this out loud did nothing to make it true. His bones ached as if they hadn’t been used in ages. Putting weight on his feet was a tender experience that reminded him just how delicate a body could be. “Well, maybe I could use the help for a lit
tle bit of the journey. Let’s go outside. I want to get some air. Maybe we can find Macgowan so that I can see what he has to tell me.”
Gus was surprisingly silent as they moved through the halls and out the front door. They had to stop every dozen strides for an Aranthian to express their joy at seeing Osric up and on his feet again. The spirits of their habitation were at a high; that much was clear.
As they crossed the threshold of the barracks, the sun caressed Osric’s skin and filled him with a sense of warmth. He looked appreciatively at his surroundings. For the first time in ages, he noticed how remarkable these surroundings were. He had performed his dramatic reveal for dozens of individuals that had joined, but he had always seen the grounds through the newcomer’s eyes, and he had failed to look with his own eyes. Never had he taken the time to truly appreciate what they had built.
Machai headed over to the arms arena and began criticizing the techniques of a few recruits in dual wielding. Osric was glad to see that everyone was taking advantage of Machai’s skills with wand and weapon. In mere moments, three irua recruits—one elf and two humans—were practicing under the dwarf’s critical gaze. The half-giant Irgon sat with a book in his massive hands and joined in an early-morning debate with a squirrel and an elderly gentleman. Sprites darted about every which direction while groundskeepers went about their business. The building hadn’t truly woken up yet, and there was already more life on the front lawn than he had stopped to appreciate in the last few months.
“Legati, my wand—where are they?” Osric ached to feel the comfort of his old familiar friends.
“Um… Well, Legati is in the armory, as it should be, but your wand…” Gus cast a nervous look toward Bridgett.
“What? Where’s my wand?” Osric asked nervously.
“You fell on it and snapped it in half when you collapsed on the battlefield,” Bridgett replied softly.
“No.” The word barely escaped his mouth.
“If there was something special about the wand, we may never know what it was. Let’s just hope that there is more to this than just a broken stick.”
“I made one special for you,” Pebble chirped and ran quickly back into the barracks.
“He’s sure grown up fast,” Osric said.
“Yes he has.” Bridget took Osric’s hand and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“And I waited all the time you were out to talk to him about his wands too. So, can we get that out of the way soon?” Gus inquired more politely than usual.
“As soon as I think you can ask without yelling at him if you don’t like the answer.”
Gus harrumphed but nodded grudgingly.
Osric motioned for Kenneth and Bridgett to give him some space to try his legs, and they stepped aside but stayed close enough to offer aid should he need it.
“Osric!” Macgowan shouted from the distant forge. He jumped through the large front opening and sprinted toward them. Though traces of a downtrodden heart from his wife’s death were still visible on his face, his body language and gait suggested that his pride had once again been restored.
“Macgowan, I hear you have some news for me?” Osric found that he was extremely happy to see how well Macgowan could move after having his calcaneal tendons slashed. Over the past year, Osric felt as though he had gotten to know the big blacksmith as well as he knew Kenneth. “I hear our men fought well, and we will forever remember the names of the twenty who fell.”
“Our men still fight, and the twenty who died were brought home.”
“Brought home? Still fight?” Osric wasn’t sure he had heard correct.
“Yes, we could not leave them behind.” He motioned toward the stone pillars that bordered the camp. “What better gravestone can be made?” The nearest pillar bore a funeral rune, as well as the names of the twenty fallen warriors carved below it. Each of the inscriptions consisted of the soldier’s name followed by “Aranthian.”
“Aranthian? Nice touch.” Osric placed his hand on Macgowan’s shoulder.
“They were Aranthians. Anytime their name is mentioned, we want the world to know that they were one of us. We are family. Fourteen of our family members still fight with the irua now.” Macgowan nodded with a smile.
“Fourteen Aranthians are still in Angmar?”
“Yes, sir. I wanted to be the one to tell you that the mission was not a failure. You and I may have fallen on the field, but our men are conjuring illusions and fighting to help many of those who are trapped escape the tunnels. They are in regular communication with us, and there are hidden tunnels they fight to help survivors reach. Our name is known by many of the irua as a last chance for survival. The cities of Barda and Catrain have already dispatched peace envoys to Stanton because of the Aranthians, even as they send reinforcements to Angmar to aid in the war effort. We have dozens of scholars and warriors on their way to Stanton in an attempt to join us. Four dozen new recruits were trusted in the last week. That’s what the new recruits have started to call their admittance.”
Osric felt faint and sat down on the grass. Bridgett and Kenneth attempted to guide him slowly to the ground, but it had happened too fast. Luckily, the soft fertile ground cushioned his landing, and he rolled onto his back, laughing at their good fortune.
“Is there anything else?” He couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy as the uncontrolled laughter filtered through the stress of the last hour.
“No, sir. Except that we have spent the last month tending to the grounds of the Vigile barracks that is outside of our sheltering spell. Eublin wants to turn it into something he calls a printing press. He wants to sell books, so I don’t know why he doesn’t call it a bookery. But anyway, he thinks he can have us turning a tidy profit from that alone. He has also brought in scribes to start recording events that happen here. He thinks it is more reliable than a fire telling. Pebble is opening up a wand shop in the old blacksmith shop on the grounds, as well.”
Osric knew that the Vigile barracks outside of the spell was actually the same barracks, but it wasn’t removed from the world like their current location within the circle of stone pillars. It was a mere thought away to those who lived in the Aranthian habitat, but until the last month it had been abandoned to anyone who would look at it. It was good to see that it was going to have life brought back to it—and by the very people who inhabited its twin.
“Here comes Pebble now,” Gus said with pride.
“Can you sit up, Osric?” Bridgett helped him to a better position, but Osric felt almost drunk with joy over the turn of events. In his mind, there was no doubt—no doubt at all—that they could keep the irua safe from annihilation. With the men and women he was working with, he had the utmost confidence that they could defeat Dredek.
What’s more, the era of peace that had begun at the ratification ceremony could begin again when the envoy arrived from the irua realm. Osric could see his quiet life on the horizon of the future, and no longer did it look like it was fading in the distance. It was coming back.
“Here you are, Unicorn.” Pebble held a wand out to him in both furry little paws.
Osric took it with a smile and examined it carefully. It was red oak without a knot anywhere in the grain. Unlike his Gus wand, this one had been carved from something larger, rather than being a limb that was picked up, polished, and stripped. Etched into the base of the wand was Pebble’s brand, a burnt representation of a pebble lying on the ground. It had been finished with a natural, clear gloss that gave it a wet look.
“Light the tip already, won’t ya?” Pebble said in a playfully low growl that accompanied his mock scowl.
“Once again, you caught me on my wand etiquette.” Pebble had spoken nearly the same words to him when he lay below the rubble of the Stanton Palace a year ago. Now the words were a fond memory he liked to relive. Osric bowed slightly, held the wand in his hand, and lit the tip.
The familiar grip of the spell was soothing as the power lock took control of the wand. The rush of
heightened sensation brought back memories of times he had spent with Pebble: having a chance encounter after the attack on the palace, and then setting out to discover who had was responsible for the attack, only to discover Pebble had stowed away in the luggage at the rear of the dragon’s back. He remembered Pebble singing a tune as they returned from attending to Greyback while she recovered from her broken wing in D’pareth.
More than anything, that first journey permeated his memory, as he and his wand became acquainted. Playing “I see something you don’t” was a memory he cherished. Yet the part that he admired the most was Pebble’s ability to inject innocence into every situation. He would never have guessed that the plump pup would be the world’s greatest Wand-Maker less than a year after they met.
The power lock began to subside as he reflected on the craft that Pebble had redefined at such a young age. It was truly remarkable how a young mind worked. Not too long ago, Gus had to reprimand the pup for using his gift to peer at people without asking. Osric opened his eyes and smiled. This was the first Pebble wand he had attempted a power lock with, and it was impressive. The lock had surpassed all previous power locks—save one.
“Shiny!” Pebble clapped his paws and looked up at Osric expectantly.
“Here you are, sir.” Osric looked up and saw a young man offering Legati to him. “We wanted to see her in your hands again, sir.” A small group had gathered around his friends, a hopeful cast to their faces.
Osric took the sword and laid it down across his lap and smiled. In a wave of clarity, every truth washed over him as he looked up into the expectant gazes of his closest friends. He thought of the agonizing hours they had all spent trying to decipher the prophecy that had clung to them through all of their adventures. The answer to it all had been so simple, yet the timing of their attempts to answer the questions had to have been off by the slimmest of margins. He couldn’t imagine how it had escaped their notice for so long.
Osric thought back to the power lock with Gus’s wand, as he lay pinned under the collapsed ceiling. Pebble had seen it then, but Osric had never thought to look. The words of the prophecy danced through his head.
The Well of Strands (Osric's Wand, Book Three) Page 29