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

by Jack D. Albrecht Jr.

  The others gifts must have been more gradual because they were gained by proximity to the sword rather than by blood contacting the blade. Kenneth’s use of his sword during practice would explain how he had gained the gifts as well, though he wasn’t sure how to explain Gus and Bridgett gaining the abilities as well. Perhaps being near the sword was enough to develop the abilities over time—Gus confirmed the theory as the story had progressed.

  Osric secured his sword belt on his waist with trembling hands. The elation he had felt earlier in the day when he realized that his sword was actually the wand that had tormented him through the riddle of prophecy had given way to a heavy weight on his heart. Legati had been more than a sword to him all along, but understanding how his new gifts had been acquired did little to ease the demanding questions of why. There must be a reason why the unicorn had saved him that day as the palace collapsed, why he wasn’t killed along with most of the other Ratification Ceremony attendees. If it was the sword, or the wand, that had given him all of his abilities, then why was he the one with the burden of gaining them? Could he ever use his abilities without feeling the guilt of taking the lives of so many whom he had gained them from? Although he had acquired several of his gifts over time from the people around him without any harm coming to them, far more of his abilities had developed after the battles at Braya and Angmar, and after the fight with the Kallegian in Stanton. So many of his gifts were a bloody reminder of the fighting he had been forced to participate in since he was thrust into the battle for peace on Archana, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to use Legati again without feeling the weight of that guilt.

  Osric’s heart was pounding as all of the questions raced through his mind. He could still hear the echo of Aridis’s words to Serha about self-doubt preventing their success, but he couldn’t shake his own doubts. He wasn’t sure he would be able to do what it would take to wage a war, never mind win one. He tried to think about what had to be done to locate the wells and learn what they could from them, but it took all of his strength to turn and address the gathered group who looked to him for leadership. What right did he have to speak to them, to try to motivate them, to lead them?

  The weight of his sword against his leg felt both familiar and eerie, yet he couldn’t imagine being without it. It may be a burden to carry, but it was his burden. He would find a way to shoulder it—he couldn’t bear the thought of letting his people down after they had come so far with him. Osric straightened himself and tried to calm his thoughts—guilt was never an honest emotion. He looked out over the small crowd at his companions, his friends, and he set his mind on the next goal. They would take it one step at a time, just as they had all along, and eventually they would find the answers they so desperately needed. First, they had an island to find.

  * * *

  The greenery was just as lush and bright as it had been in her vision. The small bay where the boat had anchored was just as blue. Aside from her sight being distinctly her own, rather than viewing the beautiful island through the eyes of a stranger, Serha could be back in her vision. But she wasn’t; she was on an unfamiliar coast far from home with a great many people depending on her. Serha had specifically described the location from her vision to a dragon, who then transported them all to the shore by spoken spell. Dragons, thanks to the Endurism ability, were one of the few creatures on Archana who could tolerate the vast use of magic needed to travel so far with the spell, but they weren’t entirely sure they could make the image of the location specific enough to accomplish traveling there at all. The shape of the shoreline and the landscape near the water was unique enough that the dragon had felt confident it was an island she had seen before, and luckily they had all arrived safely. Now that they knew the island of her vision was real, Serha knew that it was her responsibility to lead them to the tower.

  Serha’s entire life had been devoted to receiving and understanding her visions and delivering prophecies. She had never had any doubt about her competency with her gift, but she honestly thought that finding Osric was going to be the last thing she did in her life. The vision she had received as a young girl, the one that had shown her finding the High-Wizard, was her first and still one of her most vivid visions as a Seer. At the time, she had been overwhelmed by the feeling that it had depicted the last days of her life, and she had waited for the moment to come with grim acceptance. She had always known that she would find Osric, but she had first needed to accept that it would be one of the last things she did before she died. Now she had seen that vision come to pass, yet she was continuing on to new lands with new purpose. For the first time in her life, she felt her gift had failed her. What she had experienced, what she had felt when she had her first vision as a child, had been wrong, and now her hands were shaking as she stared up at the dense forest before her. What if there was no tower at the top of the mountain? No well, no book? What if she was wrong about all of it?

  “Any idea where that road was at?” Osric’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  Serha scanned the edge of the jungle, looking for something familiar. It didn’t take her long to find the old, weathered, and cracked stones that had once been a road. Serha moved toward the old path with a stride more confident than she felt. She tried to push down her fears of failure by focusing on the many aspects of the island that were in fact the same as her vision. As she crossed beneath the first of the trees, a small bush dappled with bright blue blossoms peeked out beside the moss-encrusted tree trunk on her right. She smelled the heady sweetness that wafted toward her from the small flowers as her skirt brushed the leaves of the bush.

  Two tiny birds hovered just above the blue petals, sipping nectar from the sweet flowers. Her father had called them flitterflies when she was a child, and she had chased them through the forest near her home on summer mornings, following brief flashes of bright feathers as they darted between blossoms. Serha’s pace quickened as she followed the broken road, which was littered with leaves and overgrown with tree roots, toward the top of the mountain.

  The sun climbed with them, marking the passing of the day as they swatted at insects and wiped sweat from their necks. The party traveled by spell when they could see far enough up the path for it to be worth the expenditure of magic, but much of the trek had to be taken on foot. The foliage was dense, and the path was vague and easy to lose beneath the trees. Tree sprites chittered in the branches overhead, and Serha could often catch sight of one of the small, furry creatures leaping from limb to limb above them.

  Just as the muscles in her legs were protesting louder than her determination to reach the top could drown out, Serha saw a break in the trees up ahead and a swath of blue sky hugging the outline of a stone tower. Her breath caught in her throat, and she nearly jogged out from under the forest canopy. A carpet of soft grass cushioned her footfalls, and she crested the hill to find the tower at the center of a small lake in a crater. The bridge was just where she had said it would be. The rest of the party followed her up the hill, and she turned to see wide smiles and quiet nods of approval cast her way.

  Bridgett knelt down in front of Trevar. His eyes were wide as he looked up at the tower.

  “Are you ready? Do you think you can get us in?” Bridgett smiled at him warmly, and he returned the smile readily. He pulled his hand from his pocket and showed her the small stone rod. She nodded encouragingly and walked with him to the tower.

  Trevar used the stone he was holding to draw an arc of symbols on the wall. Bridgett watched expectantly for the symbols to begin glowing, just as she had seen at the Well of Strands in Angmar, but nothing happened. Trevar looked confused as he held his hand in the air after drawing the final symbol.

  “What’s wrong?” Bridgett asked. The irua boy looked distraught, shaking his head in distress. “Have you ever seen any well besides the one you took me to?” Again he shook his head no.

  “The symbols is not working. Wrong symbols?” His distress and confusion seemed to be regressing his rec
ent grasp of the Common language.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know what the symbols mean. Do you?” Trevar nodded at first, but he didn’t say anything. Then, he scrunched up his face a little and shook his head, staring down at the ground.

  “Oh, it’s going to be all right. We will figure something out.” Bridgett squeezed his shoulder and walked back over to the rest of the group.

  “Bridgett, what’s wrong?” Osric’s voice blatantly conveyed concern, but he couldn’t help but smile when he looked at her.

  “He wasn’t able to open the door. He thinks that the symbols he knows might not work for all of the wells.”

  “Blazing strands! I didn’t really have a backup plan for getting in.” Osric ran his hands through his hair.

  “I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.” Gus was perched on Serha’s shoulder.

  Osric looked over at him and grimaced. “Well, like it or not, I’m willing to hear it.”

  “Serha can get in,” Gus said slowly, “with the traveling spell.”

  “Absolutely not.” Osric glared over at him. “Have you forgotten what can happen when someone uses the spell without being able to see the destination? It’s too risky.”

  “Do you have a better idea?” Gus puffed out his little chest and glared back. Osric’s shoulders sagged.

  “No, but you’re right. I don’t like it.” Osric looked at Serha. “It isn’t a decision I can make, though. Do you understand how the spell works?” Serha nodded. “This is more dangerous than any other time we have ever used the traveling spell. Not only can you not see the location you are trying to travel to, but the only way you have ever seen it is in a vision. There is no way to know what is inside the tower now. It is entirely possible that attempting this will kill you.”

  “Osric, we can’t let her do that. We don’t know what will happen to her,” Bridgett objected vehemently.

  “Actually, my dear, you cannot stop me.” Serha squared her shoulders and looked at Osric. “Tell me what I should do to succeed.”

  “Serha, did you hear anything I just said? I’m really not sure it is possible. You could die.”

  “So, I just have to have a clear image of where I want to go, and then I speak the spell and I go there, right?”

  “In a most simplistic manner, yes, that’s how it works, but there have been incidents where people have died because they appeared in an altered environment,” Eublin said, quietly but adamantly. “For example, focusing on a clearing with a small tree near a childhood home can lead to appearing with a large branch through one’s torso due to the growth of the tree over the years. We can only assume that your vision was either from the past or the future, thus it is possible that the interior of the tower is not as it was when you saw it.”

  “I understand the risk. But if there is no other way to get into the tower, then I am willing to try. We must learn what we can about the wells. It may be the only way to save the irua race and any others Dredek may seek to destroy.”

  Osric eyed her with a mix of admiration and fear. He was torn between needing to understand Dredek’s purpose in seizing the Well of Strands and needing to protect Serha from potential harm. He didn’t want anyone else to die.

  “Serha, can you show me the vision? Is that possible? If I could see what you saw, then I could travel into the tower and you would not have to take on the risk yourself.” She smiled warmly at Osric’s obvious concern for her, but she shook her head.

  “If the vision were meant for you, then perhaps I could, but that is not the case. This vision came to me for a reason, High-Wizard, and the danger is no greater for me than for you. However, you must go on to win this war. I am just an old woman.”

  “Wise and modest. You speak too little of yourself, old woman.” Aridis’s eyes were shining with moisture as Serha prepared to speak the spell.

  “Serha, there is another danger we have not discussed.” Osric’s voice strained with anxiety. “The spell around the barracks prevents anyone from entering uninvited. I have felt the pain that trying to breach this protection causes, and you would not survive it. Only my added abilities allowed me to live through it. We have no idea what type of magic protects this tower. There are spells woven into this stone that I have never seen before. If they are as effective as the ones around the barracks, you won’t get through alive. I can’t let you do this.”

  “Osric, I understand the risks involved. There is no other way.” Serha took a deep breath and pictured the tower as she had seen it in her vision. Every detail that she could recall was clear in her mind, and she focused carefully on a space in the center of the floor far from any object in the room. “Eo ire itum.”

  * * *

  Serha felt a sensation of falling forward, but after a brief moment the feeling passed. As she looked around, she felt lightheaded and her vision seemed foggy. The walls of the tower around her were hazy, and she felt as if her feet were stuck in thick mud. With great difficulty, Serha crouched down and looked at a book lying open on the floor. It was the same one from her vision. Several symbols were written along the spine of the book, but the pages were faded, and her vision was so blurry that she could not read any of the writing. Serha picked up the book. She clutched it close to her chest and tried to walk toward the round opening in the floor. She couldn’t move her legs.

  Confused and disoriented, Serha struggled against the invisible force that kept her from moving. She felt drawn toward the well, as if she needed desperately to reach it, but she couldn’t break free. The darkness she had seen in her vision bubbled up from inside the round opening in the stone floor. It slowly moved toward her, like a thick smoke. She had the disturbing feeling that it was watching her, laughing at her, and just before she would have been enveloped in the gruesome shadow, Serha recited the traveling spell and her vision went black.

  * * *

  Serha awoke to the sensation of a cool cloth on her forehead and a warm blanket spread over her. Her limbs felt heavy and stiff, and her eyes ached terribly. Aridis squeezed her hand and spoke softly as she opened her eyes.

  “You gave us quite a scare. Do you remember anything?”

  When she could see him clearly, Serha blinked and sighed with relief.

  “That is not an experience I will forget anytime soon. Where is the book?”

  The old man’s brow furrowed as he stared at her eager expression.

  “What book do you mean?”

  “The one from the tower of course. I brought it back with me,” Serha said. She shifted up into a sitting position and realized she was on soft grass near the crater and the lake. The tower stood silhouetted against the bright blue sky just across the water.

  “Serha, you never went anywhere.” Aridis watched her with concern. “You recited the spell and immediately collapsed on the ground outside the tower. You have been unconscious for half the day.”

  “What? That isn’t possible. I traveled into the tower, but I couldn’t move. I picked up the book, and I traveled back out just before the darkness reached me. It was terrifying.”

  “I have been by your side every moment since you collapsed. Could it be another vision?”

  “Aridis, I have been receiving visions for over one hundred years. I can always tell when I am seeing a vision, and this was different. This was real.” Serha had an overwhelming urge to either get up and move or to vomit. She opted for the former and struggled to her feet. Every bit of her body protested, but once she was up and walking she started to feel better. Osric caught her eye from a short distance away, and he hurried over with Bridgett, Gus, Eublin, and the irua boy.

  “Serha, are you all right? How are you feeling?” Osric’s concern for her was clear in his voice and in his urgent approach.

  “I think so. I still feel a bit sore and quite confused. Aridis says I collapsed when I spoke the spell.”

  “That’s right. We were so worried, but we didn’t know what was happening.” Bridgett embraced the woman warmly. “Tha
nk Archana you are back with us.”

  “Actually, that’s what I am confused about. As far as I know, I traveled into the tower and retrieved the book from my vision, but it seems I never left at all. If this was just a vision, it is different than any I have ever had. And I have no explanation at all for why I collapsed.”

  “I would wager it has something to do with your proximity to Osric and Bridgett, or rather the magical devices they possess, along with whatever protection spells are built into this tower.” Gus scampered closer and Bridgett lifted him to her shoulder. “That sword and amulet can have an unusual effect on one’s power, and we are only beginning to understand how and why. Attempting to get inside may have triggered any number of rejection spells, causing you to collapse. Your amplified ability may have taken over when you fell unconscious, and that could explain why you felt it wasn’t a vision at all.”

  “Gus, that actually makes a lot of sense. If that’s true, then Serha is probably very lucky that the traveling spell didn’t work. If she had managed to get inside, the protection spells may have done a great deal more damage than just causing her to black out for a while.” Osric stood and stared out at the tower, shaking his head. “Serha, I am very glad you are not injured, but I have no idea what to do now.”