The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four)

by Jack D. Albrecht Jr.

  “Yes, it is too small, but I bring fun for us, and food.” Trevar brandished a small sack in his right hand and held a plate piled high with cheese, rolls, smoked sausage, and apple slices.

  “Yum, lunch looks delicious, but my pa says I’m too young to play bones.” Pebble looked around the room nervously.

  “What is bones?”

  “It is a game of bets and trickery.” Pebble shrugged.

  “Oh, this is no bones.” Trevar shook his head.

  “What is it, then?”

  “It is…” Trevar hesitated. “It is magic puzzle of stone.” He moved to the table, set down the plate, and overturned the blue bag. Seven small stones tumbled out.

  “How does it work?” Pebble climbed up atop the wooden slab as Trevar sat down. “I like rocks. I was named after small rocks.” They both nibbled on apples.

  “These rocks do not do right,” Trevar said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You see.” Trevar picked up three of the stones and tossed them in the air in an attempt to juggle. One rock hovered in the air in front of his head, one stuck to his hand, and the third diverted mid-toss and landed in front of Pebble’s left leg.

  “How did they do that?” Pebble was stunned and intrigued.

  “I not know, but I see men juggle them, toss to others, and throw through hoops. They say was mind tricks only mastered by the clever,” Trevar said, eyeing the rocks suspiciously. Pebble giggled and picked up one of the small stones.

  “Mind puzzles!” Pebble tossed the rock into the air and they both laughed as it came to a quick, soft rest on his forehead and stuck. When it fell back to the table, he began looking at the strands within. “They’re charmed! I just don’t know how they work.” Pebble placed a claw on one stone and pushed it. To his surprise, the pebble sat in the same spot but three others scooted away from him on the table.

  “Why don’t irua children learn to speak Common?” Pebble continued to manipulate the stones, trying to understand what was behind their odd behavior.

  “They teach Common to most, but not to well guardians. I did not do learning with other children. I do learning with other guardians. We do very secret duty, so we do not speak Common until we pass tests of duty.” Trevar was also playing with the stones and trying to determine how they worked, but nothing they did elicited an appropriate response from the rocks. All of their manipulations caused an unexpected response, often from stones other than those they were trying to affect.

  “It’s got randomy stuffs in it!” Pebble exclaimed. As he set a stone down on the table, another rose the same distance into the air as the one Pebble held was being lowered. He lifted the stone again slightly, and the one hovering above the table began to slowly rotate.

  “What is ‘randomy stuffs’?” Trevar looked over at the plump prairie dog.

  “I meant to say that the charm inside randomizes which magic it pulls from Archana.” He chose his words with great thought. “You shouldn’t learn words from me. I still mess it up ’cause I’m young and rush my talking when I get excited.”

  Trevar weighed the words with a bit more thought than was required. “Big ones like your talk,” he said with a serious expression.

  “They think I’m cute.” Pebble smiled big.

  “This cute is true. I wish we had you at my home.” Trevar ruffled the hair atop Pebble’s head. “Our you is”—he concentrated—“not soft coat, smell bad, with sharp teeth. They bigger than you. They no speak too.”

  “They say only animals that use magic with intent can speak.” Pebble nodded in understanding.

  “What is intent?” Trevar asked questions like this a lot, but he was more comfortable getting the answers from Pebble. It didn’t feel like a lesson when they were playing together.

  “Intent?” Pebble paused and looked up absent-mindedly. “It means to do things you want to, not just ’cause you got scared or mad.” He scrunched up his furry nose and added, “Or somethin’ like that.”

  “Maybe it would be fun to set these like…” Trevar stood up and scooped the stones into their sack. Then something occurred to him and he changed his direction “Why is putting in sack so easy?” He paused.

  “Dump them and do it again.” Pebble stood up on the tabletop with skeptical eyes.

  Trevar upended the bag and the stones fell out again. They scattered effortlessly and naturally, as if guided by nothing but chance and the smoothed edges against the table’s surface. Pebble held one claw up in the air to tell Trevar to wait a moment as Pebble studied the spells on the stones. After a quick nudge of a rock sent two of the others hovering off of the surface, Pebble indicated that Trevar should collect them again. Once again, the rocks slid easily back into their bag.

  “Super clever!” Pebble motioned for Trevar to give him the bag of stones.

  “You see how the trick is?”

  “I think so.” Pebble took the bag and dumped it out. “But I need a hat.”

  He took the bag and turned around with a mischievous smile. When he spun back, the bag sat atop his head, tied by the strap under his chin. He smiled and bowed while Trevar laughed.

  “You look like juggler man.”

  “I’m not a good juggler, but I like tossing rocks in the lake.” Pebble picked up a few stones and skipped them lightly across the long part of the table. They slipped harmlessly, bounced off of the wall at the end, and scattered naturally based on the direction of the throw. “And I like to play catch.”

  Trevar flinched as Pebble tossed another rock toward him. Surprisingly, the rock arrived on target and would have been caught if it weren’t for the fact that Trevar hadn’t expected it to do so. He giggled with glee that the puzzle had been solved so quickly, and then attempted to toss the stone back—it diverted left and another slid off of the table, adhering itself to the blade of the axe by the wood pile in the corner.

  “You got it!”

  “Yup.” Pebble smiled. “Touching the bag takes away the random. Here, you try it.” He took the bag off of his head and brought it to the edge of the table, handing it to Trevar.

  “I have idea. This is what I was to do, before.” Trevar smiled, taking the bag and gathering all but one of the stones in his hand. He dispersed the stones throughout the room, placing them in odd locations: on bookshelves, under bowls, propping a book up, or buried under a pile of sticks. Finally he stood before Pebble and dropped the bag. He grinned down at Pebble. “Catch!”

  Trevar turned around and threw the stone down sharply. Like before, the rock stuck to his hand and one that sat below the book shot across the room abruptly and collided with the one in his hand. Then they clattered to the floor in different directions.

  “Neat!” Pebble jumped down from the table and scampered over to another of the stones. He attempted to pick it up and it stayed where it was, but across the room one of the stones began to slide in a circular motion at the bottom of a pot. It spun more rapidly when Pebble pulled harder at the stone held firmly against the floor.

  Trevar picked up another as Pebble began to push his. The irua boy stumbled backwards, being shoved by the tiny stone in his hand. He pushed back and the rock Pebble held tight in his paw pulled him across the room.

  They laughed and played with the stones well into the day.

  4 — Prophecy’s Demands

  Serha held her skirt in one hand and the heavy book in the other as she rushed through the halls of the barracks. Eublin had given her access to all of his books, and several recruits had volunteered to help her sort through the vast stores of knowledge. She hadn’t even known what she was looking for, but when she touched the book she was carrying, she had seen a vision that both terrified her and gave her hope. She needed to find the gnome and see if he knew anything about the book before she spoke to everyone else.

  Serha found Eublin in the garden calling out to anyone who passed by about rejecting the murderous idea of the hunt. She hurried over to him and caught his attention.

&nbs
p; “Eublin, I must speak with you immediately.” The gnome responded to the urgency in her tone and followed her into a small office nearby. They both took seats, and she placed the book on a small table in front of the gnome.

  “Do you know anything about this?” Serha’s breath was short from her near run.

  “Oh, let’s see what you have found.” Eublin lifted the big book and adjusted the small spectacles on his bulbous nose. “Yes, yes. I believe this one came from an old elven city. Were you able to read it?”

  “No, but it triggered a vision that I do not fully understand. I wanted to know more about the book before I attempt to determine the significance of the vision.”

  “I see. To be honest, I cannot read this book either. I once had an elven acquaintance who was able to translate most of it, but he would not record the translation. He said it was a book of ritual. Much of what it contains is what he called ‘The Story of the Stone Path.’ It is one of the books I have the least knowledge of in my collection, I’m afraid. I’ve asked the few elves that are in residence here, but they all said it is an old dialect that they are not familiar with.”

  “That is unfortunate.”

  “May I ask what it is you saw in your vision?”

  “At first I thought it was the Well of Strands, but after thinking about it, I am quite certain that that is not the case. I think we should speak with Aridis immediately.” Serha’s hands were shaking as she thought more about what her vision might mean.

  “I happen to know where Aridis can be found. Osric has awoken and is likely having lunch with Bridgett, so we should also speak with him. Let us go, my lady.” The gnome was not much taller than Serha’s belt when they both stood up and headed toward the door.

  “He is awake? That’s wonderful!”

  Serha carried the book with her, although she was sure that it would not do them much good since no one could read it. They found Aridis quickly, and he welcomed them into his chambers readily. Eublin caught a recruit in the hall and asked him to go find Osric. As soon as they were all gathered and Aridis and Serha had expressed their joy at seeing Osric alive and well—and awake—Serha described what she had seen.

  “It began with a sea journey, by ship, but the crew could not see or hear me. The land where the ship docked was lush and green, and I followed an old stone road, half buried in moss and underbrush, deep into a forest. I walked uphill for most of the day, and at the peak I realized I was on an island. There was water on all sides, and the mountain I had climbed was at the very center of the landmass. The only structure I saw was a tower at the peak of the mountain. It sat in a small lake nestled in a crater, and it almost felt as if no other lands existed but the one small island. There was no door to the tower. When I approached the tower by way of a rickety bridge, a glowing entrance appeared and I was able to go inside by crawling through. Inside was a stone basin in the floor, about three strides in width and half that in depth.” Serha spoke calmly but her voice conveyed her excitement and awe as she remembered how invigorating it had felt to stand near that circle of stone. “When I peered into the basin, a dark shadow crept across the floor and I felt as if I were suffocating. The closer it came to me the harder it was to breathe.

  “Just before I would have fallen unconscious, a strong wind blew through the tower and knocked a book to the floor. As the pages of the book fluttered in the wind, the shadow retreated from me and went into the bowl on the floor. Once inside, the darkness seemed unable to exit the circular area, but it grew much darker as it pooled in such a small space. The book looked similar to this one, but it had distinctively different markings on the front.

  “I knelt and looked closely at the shadow. Up very close, it looked like a massive army in marching formations. When I touched the book, it was obvious that my hand was not of my own body, but rather I was seeing everything through someone else’s eyes. When my hand made contact with the page, a bright light washed across the floor and the army of shadows dissolved.” Serha fell silent as she completed her tale, and she looked up to find genuine fascination and concern in the eyes of her companions.

  “I agree with you that you did not see the Well of Strands.” Eublin pushed his spectacles up his nose and scratched his head as he spoke. “From what Bridgett has described, it doesn’t fit with what we know. However, we have been researching other areas of concentrated power. Smaller, less powerful regions. If we can identify enough of the elements of your vision, perhaps we can pinpoint the location of the well you saw.”

  “The area you described does not sound like one of the locations we have identified from the journals and maps in Eublin’s collection. Tell me again what you saw before you entered the structure.” Aridis stared at the book’s well-worn binding as he listened to Serha speak.

  “Lush greenery along an overgrown stone road leading to the highest point at the center of the island. The tower sat at the center of a small lake in a crater on the top of the mountain.”

  “It sounds like one of the islands off the west coast of the Elven Realm. That might explain why it was an elven book that triggered the vision.” Aridis tugged on his beard and then looked up at Osric. “What do you think?”

  “I think we have a trip to pack for. If the vision is correct—and we have every reason to believe it is, after all that has happened—we need to find the other wells before Dredek does.”

  “What do you think it means?” Serha looked at the other three people in the room with a serious expression, asking for their interpretation even as she formed her own.

  “I would say it means our only chance of defeating Dredek’s army is in using the Well of Strands against him, but the smaller wells may be our key to understanding how to accomplish that.” Osric was already making a mental list of who he would need with him on the search for the well Serha had seen.

  “Perhaps it can tell us more than that. It is interesting that it looked like an army, but I believe the darkness and the book are more important messages,” Aridis said, watching him carefully and surprised that Osric seemed so healthy after his battle with Dredek in Angmar that had left the Aranthian leader unconscious for over a month. “Serha, do your visions usually seem so cryptic? Is this an actual event or more of a symbolic representation, in your opinion?”

  “I have visions of both types, actually. Usually it is quite easy for me to tell the difference, but this vision was not so transparent. I believe it may be a combination of both. It would help if I knew whose eyes I was watching the event through, but even without that knowledge I can make some assumptions.” She folded her hands in her lap and thought back to the vision carefully. “I feel that the man—at least, I am fairly sure it was a human male—was on the ship and traveled the road to the tower. The doorway I am less sure about. The glowing light could be symbolic for the enlightenment or knowledge of the entrance’s location. Or perhaps the knowledge of how to gain entrance without a door, I do not really know. The well and the book exist, of that I am certain, though I cannot assume the book is still in the tower. As far as the shadow goes, I won’t even attempt to determine its nature. It is as if the darkness hides itself from me even in my vision and my memory of it.”

  “You speak of the vision as an event that occurred in the past. Do you have a way of knowing this to be true?” Eublin asked, leaning forward in his seat excitedly. “Is it possible that this event has not yet taken place?”

  “To be honest, I do not know. If I speak in past tense, it is likely only because the vision showed me something that I am now remembering as something I experienced. It is possible that I am seeing something as it will be, but that would make it even less possible to determine which elements are actual and which are symbolic.” Serha stared down at her folded hands. “I am not sounding much like the master of my craft that I am supposed to be, am I?”

  “Nonsense.” Aridis did not hesitate to assuage her self-doubt. “We are all encountering magic and events that have no precedent in our knowledge or experi
ence. You are doing better than any other Seer could under the circumstances. Doubting your ability to aid our world in its time of need will only keep you from doing so. Speak nothing of the sort again.” Although his words were directed at the old woman, Aridis was holding Osric’s gaze as he spoke.

  “Wise words.” Eublin clapped loudly once and hopped down from his chair. “If it is a trip we must be embarking on, we should certainly be preparing. I will gather all of my research on the wells and join you shortly.” The others rose from their seats and went their separate ways with quiet determination.

  * * *

  The group met up again at mid’day in greater numbers. While Eublin and Aridis gathered their research and Serha prepared for the unexpected journey, Osric was briefed by Gus on the day’s gruesome yet enlightening discovery about his acquired powers. He couldn’t believe that Willam was dead, and he felt that it was his fault. He should have taken the sword with him. He should have realized the potential danger that was involved with the unusual power of the wand. Gus had described what had happened, in an uncharacteristically shaky voice, and Osric couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like to see what had occurred. Gus’s Wand-Maker’s vision had been engaged as Willam cut Kal with the sword. The poor kid had been inundated with all of the fully formed gifts that Osric currently possessed, and it seemed the power influx of so many gifts was too much for the body to handle. The surge of power had been too much for Willam’s life strand to handle, and it snapped right before Gus’s eyes.

  Though Osric grieved for the boy, his mind was overwhelmed by the implications of what Gus had seen. They had spent months trying to figure out how Osric was gaining so many new powers. It was obvious now that they had come from the sword, but there was more to it than that. Most of his gifts had developed gradually, although some had seemed to appear instantly or at least very rapidly between the occasions that Gus had examined him. If contact with blood had caused the gifts to transfer to him fully formed, then that would explain why he had gained the paun’s ability of invisibility and the gift that allowed him to see the spoken spells in the book that had previously looked blank. Thinking about the vial, Osric still wondered how he had attained the ability to read the book. The only solution that came from all his thoughts was that the vial had to have contained blood, dried by the years, and the sword had been exposed to the blood when he had gone into the water to retrieve the vial. He wasn’t positive, but it made sense. Then there were the various other gifts he had acquired after fighting with the sword; he had so many and the thought filled him with regret, gaining power with each life he took.