Osric took several timid steps through the door to the library. “I was listening to your conversation. I agree that no one should be forced to endure the hunt if they wish to lead a different life, but I’m just not sure if the Aranthians can force that change.”
“Can we at least pour some of our energy into social reform, rather than revolutionizing magical knowledge? Surely you can see the former as equal in value to the latter?” The gnome’s thin arms crossed his chest as he glared up at Osric.
“Eublin, I don’t mean to—”
“Bridgett ready?” The irua boy, Trevar, peered up with a smile, interrupting Osric’s reply.
Bridgett stood up and smiled at the boy and turned to Eublin.
“I’m afraid I need to continue instructing Trevar in Common. You two have a lot to discuss, it seems.”
“Wait,” Osric protested. “Don’t you have news about the dragons that I need? And who is this young boy?”
“I do, but Trevar is the one responsible for bringing me into the Well of Strands, and if we ever hope to stop Dredek we will need to be able to communicate with him. I’ve been working hard to teach him how to speak Common while you were in bed, and he is making good progress, so we can’t neglect his teaching now. Meet me on the elemental level when you are done here and we’ll see if we’ve made enough progress to allow for a short diversion to catch you up.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, smiling apologetically as she left.
Osric watched with a longing stare as Bridgett left; then her words registered and he looked at Eublin with no small amount of worry in his eyes. “Did she say to meet her on the elemental level?”
“Yes, I do believe she did. Why do you ask?”
“We put them on that floor to isolate the danger to the rest of the barracks; that’s no place to teach a child Common.” Osric stood up to run after Bridgett, but Eublin stepped in the way with hands raised to calm his nerves.
“They have agreed to limit their experiments to ones that do not risk explosion, implosion, or mutilation until her lesson is concluded. Those elemental wizards are out gathering materials, so she can use the room for a while to test the boy. We worked it all out ages ago while you were still recovering.”
The words settled in and the sense of urgency he had felt began to subside as he took a step back and sat down. Having Bridgett back was an almost overwhelming pleasure, but he didn’t want to drown her with his overprotective nature; that would be a mistake. Eublin’s next words echoed his thoughts precisely.
“She’s a smart one. You don’t need to worry about her so much. She wouldn’t endanger the boy, so she made sure they would shut down any dangerous experiments before they arrived. In these parts, she is a force to be reckoned with. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you the same.”
Osric nodded, picturing Bridgett defending him after he had fallen in battle by thrusting a small knife into Dredek. “You’re right. She’s tougher than most would give her credit for.” He smiled. “Why is she teaching the boy to speak Common, though? Aren’t there a ton of irua here who could teach him much faster since they speak his native tongue?”
“Of course there are, but she needed something to take her mind off of you until we knew you were going to be all right. She was so worried about you that she was physically ill. Her bond with the boy was one of the few things that could keep her from wasting away at your bedside. And it seems that the child will not speak with others as he does with her, since she has whatever it is she needed for him to reveal the Well of Strands to her. He’s a strange little boy, that one.”
Osric nodded, wishing he hadn’t worried her at all. He was glad to see she was smiling again.
“Now, do you have a few moments to spare?” Eublin asked. “I have some things I need to go over with you. I’m not expecting too much from you, but I would at least like to have your ear for a time.”
“Sure. What’s pressing on your mind these days, Eublin?” He knew what to expect, but the gnome deserved as much of his time as anyone else would get.
“Thank you. I’d like to show you a couple books that will challenge the way you feel about the hunt.” Eublin pushed his spectacles up with a long, thin finger and walked around the table to two open books.
3 — Lesson and Learning
Bridgett sat on the floor with her legs crossed and fed a few more sticks to the small fire. Trevar sat next to her, his brow wrinkled in concentration. Bridgett smiled but resisted correcting the boy. His expression clearly told her that Trevar knew he had made a mistake. The story was one of her favorites from childhood, a silly tale about a bear who tries to catch a fish in a river but instead finds an enchanted boot. She had first told the story to Trevar in his native irua language with the aid of a translator. When she learned he was rather adept at fire-tellings, she thought this would be the perfect way to evaluate his mastery of Common.
The beginning of the story had gone well, though the images had faded from the flames a few times while Trevar struggled to remember the proper words. As he had neared the end of the tale, he said “foot” instead of “boot,” and the depiction in the fire of a bear with a severed foot in its mouth had generated a look of surprise and confusion on the young irua’s face. Bridgett managed not to laugh, and thus she was sitting quietly as Trevar tried to remember the correct Common word for boot.
“I cannot remember it.” The disappointment he was feeling washed over her, wiping the smile from her lips, and she leaned close to him.
“Boot,” she whispered. Trevar sighed and focused on the meager flames.
“The bear closed his mouth and raised his head from river. He is surprised to see it is not fish he caught. It is boot!” The boy smiled as the image reformed, a large boot hanging from the animal’s jaws. Bridgett clapped her hands in delight and smiled down at the child.
“Very nice, Trevar. You are learning quickly.” Bridgett tapped her wand on the rim of the firepit and the flames died out. “That is enough for today. I would like to speak with you for a while.”
“Do we need Segan?” The boy sprung to his feet, ready to run and get the irua guard who often served as his translator.
“Not today. I believe you have learned the language well enough, and I would like this conversation to just be between us,” Bridgett said, patting the floor next to her. Trevar sat back down and looked up at her with wide eyes. “I want to thank you for saving my life in Angmar. If not for you, I would have died standing on that small ledge. I can never repay you for your decision to trust me.”
“You tried to only help, not to hurt.” Trevar grinned at her.
“I did want to help, and I could not have done so without you helping me. I am very grateful.” She smiled back at him. “When those big creatures broke into the city, and the fighting started, you saved me again. You took me down the tunnels to the Well of Strands.” Trevar nodded enthusiastically. “Why did you take me there?”
“So we could be safe, not die.”
“Yes, but we could have hidden in the storage room. Why did you take me through the wall and show me the secret room where the well is?” Ever since they had left the irua city, she had been wondering why the boy had decided to lead her there. “You were part of the group selected to protect the Well of Strands, weren’t you? I was an outsider.”
“I do not know outsider. It is safer where no one can come. You can come because you are like me.”
“What do you mean? Because I have the Trust ability?” Bridgett knew the sand-colored robes marked the individuals responsible for the well, and she could not believe that the irua who had nearly plunged a ceremonial blade into her chest was a Trust.
“No.” Trevar scrunched up his face as he tried to summon the correct words in the unfamiliar language. “You have the strand the well needs.”
“I don’t understand, Trevar. What do you mean?”
“I don’t know other words for you.” He frowned into his lap and Bridgett felt his anxiety acutely. He feared h
e was disappointing her.
“That’s all right. We can talk about it more another time.” Bridgett brushed her hands together to clean off any ash from the fire and pushed herself to her feet. Trevar sprung up next to her and eagerly waited to hear what they would be doing next. “Let’s clean up and see if we can find Osric, shall we? I thought he would be here by now.”
Trevar nodded and collected the small stack of sticks from the floor next to the firepit. He carried them over to a large bin near the door. Bridgett picked up the two cups of water that they had been drinking from and washed them in a small sink along the back wall. She glanced at all of the odd items arranged on shelves nearby as she worked, wondering what each object could possibly be used for. The bags and containers of various rocks and soils and the vials of water seemed reasonable in a room used to study the elemental magics, but the strange statues, gems, and other unidentifiable substances left her wondering.
As she replaced the cups in a small cupboard above the sink, Osric entered the room. Bridgett didn’t need to see him to know he was there; his unique combination of guilt, pride, and adoration created a signature effect on her Empath ability that left no doubt as to who was standing behind her. She turned and was greeted by his warm smile and a quick embrace. Yet, she could tell something was bothering him.
“Trevar did a splendid job today. His grasp of Common is improving rapidly.” Bridgett indicated the young irua with a proud smile.
“So, you’re the one who helped Bridgett through the irua tunnels?” Osric smiled, kneeling down to greet the boy.
“Yes. You are High-Wizard?” Trevar gazed up at Osric with a mixture of awe and surprise.
“I suppose I am. I owe you a great debt for taking care of Bridgett in my absence.” He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and then drew him into a grateful hug.
“Bridgett is good. She must be safe. You have my welcome.” Trevar hugged him back awkwardly, and Osric nodded in agreement.
“Run along and get some lunch. You must be hungry after that wonderful fire-telling,” Bridgett said. Trevar nodded and left the room with a beaming smile. She took Osric’s hand and led him to a small table in a corner of the room. “He really is improving quickly. However, I still have few of the answers I think he can provide. Perhaps I am asking the wrong questions.”
“You’ve done a great job teaching him Common in such a short time. I’m sure things will get easier in the near future when he can grasp the subtleties of the language. But after my long and unproductive chat with Eublin, I am eager for a diversion. So, I am here to learn what you can tell me about the dragons. What is happening with our winged friends?”
“Our friends are still loyal and willing to aid us in our travels as needed. It is the dragons we cannot call our friends which concern us. I know little of the motivations of these creatures, but I have learned something of their history.”
“I wasn’t aware there were dragons that we couldn’t call friends. Go on.” Osric leaned in to hear her words.
“It seems that not all of the dragons on Archana are as herd oriented as those we have met. While most of them look to the dragon elders for leadership and knowledge, some of the dragons have sought solo lives apart from the others.” Bridgett held Osric’s hand tighter. “While the captivity of the elders forced so many dragons into slavery for the other races, these independent dragons felt no obligation to obey anyone. They broke from the rest of the species and isolated themselves in distant regions. I do not know what has inspired the destruction, but it is those dragons which have set fire to sacred trees and fishing towns along the coasts.”
“In the Human Realm?” Osric inquired.
“The Human Realm, Irua Realm, Elven Realm, and for all we know in many other places as well. The attacks have been sporadic and fairly well contained, but there must be at least four of these dragons based on the locations of the damage. The dragons I have spoken with say they have had no contact with the offenders for dozens of years, and they are confident that the telepathic link has not provided the other dragons with knowledge of the traveling spell. They know these dragons have no allegiance to the dragon elders, and so they will not risk putting the entire species at risk by letting that knowledge out.”
“It would be dangerous to assume they don’t have knowledge of the traveling spell, so I won’t assume that. But the others don’t have contact with the offenders? How is that possible? I thought they all communicated telepathically.”
“I thought the same thing. We don’t know for sure, but several possible theories have been raised. It could be that the link is still active and the dragons responsible for the attacks are very much aware of the spell. Although if that is the case, there could be as few as two of them. It is also possible that distance from the herd and so many years of silence has weakened or severed the link in these creatures. It has been proposed that these dragons have gone feral, losing any ability to communicate intelligently with the other dragons. It seems most likely to me that they have chosen to reject the link in order to protect their independence from the other dragons.”
“Which would grant them the ability to tap into it at any time and learn about the traveling spell. When did these attacks begin?”
“The first attack was sometime before I traveled to the Irua Realm. We thought the first was on the elven forest, but there was an earlier attack along the west coast of the Human Realm.” Bridgett shook her head in frustration. “As for the traveling spell, that is even more unclear. The dragons have a knack for collecting massive amounts of gold. If the rogue dragons have done the same, they may have found a way to permanently sever the telepathic link in order to keep their hoards hidden from the others. Although, we have to assume they could potentially know the spell.”
“Has there been any declaration on their part? Do we know anything that could give us some hint as to their motives?” Osric’s brow furrowed.
“We have had no communication with the rogue dragons at all. If they told anyone of their reasons, they didn’t allow them to live to share the message.” Bridgett shrugged. “Osric we have to find a way to stop them. I promised the elves that we would aid them when the attack occurred. I mean to keep that promise.”
He nodded. “Maybe we need to pay the elves a visit and see if there is any news—after we sort things out here, of course?”
Bridgett’s eyes were haunted. “If you could have heard that tree sing, you wouldn’t wait.”
“I will send some men to learn what may be done.” Osric squeezed her hand, relieved to see her smile at his offer.
“Thank you.” She stared at the table as she thought about what she had seen in the Elven Realm. The fear that had permeated the air when the elves realized the Mother was under attack had frozen her in shared empathic terror. “Osric—”
“I need you here. Please, don’t leave when I have just gotten you back.”
Bridgett smiled sadly but nodded. She would allow his men to go, but she would insist on speaking with them first.
* * *
Pebble held two stilts out in front of himself. He was impressed by the likeness to the performers’ sets he had seen as the entertainers prepared and practiced for the anniversary meal. His stilts were, of course, shorter than those used by the humans walking through the streets, but he had gotten a good look at them before their pant legs had been lowered over the wooden supports.
He had to modify it a bit to accommodate his prairie dog legs, but the design was still very similar to that of the tall figures walking about as they juggled flaming torches, knives, or colorful bags of sand. He loved the long strides that the stilts provided the entertainers so much that he wanted to try it for himself.
Surprisingly, he had found that he already possessed all of the materials needed to duplicate the stilts. He had already been crafting wands from much larger chunks of wood, so he had more than enough of the material on hand in his wand shop. The act of carving the walking sticks with his wan
d had proven to be a fun challenge. It was more difficult than making wands, but still enjoyable.
He propped the leg extensions up against the front of a nearby chair. Then with a quick vocalization of the traveling spell, he found himself looking back at them from atop the chair. He sat, sliding toward them, careful not to knock them over. He slid his back paws in from the side—one brace above the paw, one behind his leg—and slipped his claws into a few holes of the footrest. The last step was to secure his legs with a few thin leather straps. He looked up at the closed window where the afternoon light still made its way through the border, gathering his courage.
Pebble slid off of the chair, bracing himself with his front paws as he tested his balance. He pushed off and took two tentative steps while growing accustomed to the new stride and height. Thrilled with the experience, Pebble surveyed the room. He giggled when he looked at the countertop—he could nearly reach it if he could keep himself atop the stilts for a few more steps.
The door to the wand shop opened and the bright sun blinded him just as his next step landed. As instinct brought his paw up to shield his eyes from the light, Pebble’s right leg shifted slightly. The stilt slid out from underneath his paw, causing him to tumble down onto the dusty floor and slide a few paces before coming to a rest next to a pile of carved sticks.
A young voice giggled from across the room and Pebble sat up, untying the straps so he could address the rude interruption.
“I am sorry to cause you a fall.” The voice was amused and apologetic, though somewhat rough in diction and enunciation—but it was young. Pebble knew it immediately.
“Trevar!” Pebble smiled in greeting, forgetting the reprimand he had been working up to. “I saw ’em in the market. I built ’em, and I was gettin’ the hang of it till you startled me.”
“Oh.” Trevar scrunched his face, searching for the words. “It looks fun?” There was clearly more to his question.
“Very good.” Pebble nodded in appreciation of Trevar’s quick mastery of Common. “That was correct. And yes, it was fun. I’d let ya try but these are too weak to support an irua.”
The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) Page 4