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

by Jack D. Albrecht Jr.

  “We aren’t going to learn anything from here. We either go back home and give up, or we knock the tower down.” Gus glared at the impenetrable tower.

  “I don’t think either of those is the best option. Serha, you said you held the book in your vision. Can you describe it?” Eublin asked.

  “There was something wrong with my vision, er, my eyesight. Everything looked very blurry, but I could see that there were seven symbols on the spine of the book. I couldn’t read anything inside, though.” Before Serha could describe the book any further, Trevar jumped up from where he was sitting on the grass nearby. He hurried over with a hopeful look on his face.

  “Seven symbols? Can you show it?” Trevar asked.

  “Well, I am not sure I can draw them correctly, but I will try.” Serha used a stick and scratched what resembled the symbols she had seen as best as she could. The irua boy watched on, and he grew more excited with each symbol she drew. When she was done, he took the stick and drew a slightly different symbol under three of those she had drawn.

  “It look like this?” he asked anxiously. Serha looked carefully at the images that both of them had drawn.

  “These two which you drew are better than mine. But this last one isn’t right. I got the best look at the last symbol, and I am sure I drew it correctly.” The last symbol looked like an inverted cone with a coil wound around it. The image the boy had drawn looked more like a triangle inside of a coil or a spring. The symbols were somewhat similar, but the differences were distinct. Serha erased the first two symbols of hers that Trevar had corrected. “These are the symbols on the book. I am sure of it.”

  The irua boy’s face broke out in a wide grin, and he ran toward the narrow bridge that led out to the tower. Bridgett and the others ran after him, calling for him to wait. When they reached him, he had already started drawing the symbols on the wall of the tower with his stone rod. The seventh symbol was one he had never drawn before, and his movement was slower and more careful to get it right. By the time he completed the last one, the symbols were beginning to glow brightly and Bridgett let out a squeal of excitement while everyone else stared in awe.

  The symbols grew brighter and brighter until everyone had to shield their eyes. When the glow faded, the group looked back at the tower wall and found a small, arched opening. They all moved toward the small doorway, and the boy’s expression of glee suddenly turned to one of fear.

  “No,” Trevar called out, holding out his arm and blocking their way. “I must protect it.” Tears filled his eyes.

  “What? We have to go inside, Trevar.” Osric spoke softly, but his voice was strained.

  “Only Bridgett.” The determined set of his small frame showed that he would not let anyone else pass.

  “Look, we need to learn as much as we can about this well. If we can’t go inside, how are we going to learn anything? You have the Trust ability, so you know you can trust me, right?” Osric knelt down and spoke to the child with forced cheerfulness.

  “You can be trusted, but you cannot learn. You do not have the connection. Only Bridgett.” The boy stood his ground and glared at Osric.

  “Osric, I don’t fully understand it yet, but the irua who oversee the Well of Strands are very select—and very secretive. I am still trying to get him to explain why he took me there.” Bridgett took Osric’s hand and squeezed it. “If I am the one who can enter, then let me enter and see what I can learn. I will keep working to make Trevar see that you must be allowed inside the wells.”

  Osric shook his head adamantly. “But I have to—”

  “I believe what she was trying to say is that we know there are at least a dozen other locations like this. If they are also walled in, then we may need the child to access them all if we are going to learn more about the wells than just what this one may hold. She understands the danger, and she has the ability to travel out of any situation she may find herself in with a few words. It’s not like there is anyone waiting inside to hurt her, unless you think someone else may have one of those stone sticks and a Seer to show them the necessary symbols.” Gus stood at Osric’s feet, successfully keeping himself from shouting but still as sarcastic as ever.

  “You’re right.” Osric’s shoulders drooped and the frustration dissipated from his expression. He pulled Bridgett into his arms and kissed her quickly. “Be careful. We can’t just assume that Trevar knows as much about this well as he does the well in his homeland, obviously. If you see anything that makes you nervous, come back out. And keep your wand at the ready.”

  “Always. I’ll tell you everything I see when I get back.”

  “Look closely.” Gus’s tone implied that he meant she should look with more than just her eyes. She smiled down at him and then followed Trevar through the opening.

  The interior of the tower looked much like the stone chamber that housed the Well of Strands in Angmar. There was nothing to break the surface of the walls as far up as Bridgett could see in the light of her wand—no doors, no windows, not even cracks or seams in the stone.

  Trevar touched his wand to the wall, but nothing happened. Bridgett expected the intricate whorls of light to spread out in a glowing display along the stone, but it seemed that Trevar was unable to affect this well as he could the one in Angmar. With the only light radiating from the tips of their wands, Bridgett gazed around at the inside of the tower.

  The circular bowl in the center of the round room was much smaller than the one in Angmar but equally proportioned. With her Wand-Maker’s vision firmly engaged, she moved closer to dispel the shadows and peered into the concave space. Her breath fluttered from her chest at the beauty of the strands—the source of all life and magic on Archana—and she gazed deeply into the intertwining pattern for several moments. The strands, like thin ribbons of light, radiated outward from the bowl and pierced everything in the room. The colors penetrated the stone, leaving it brighter as though it held a charge of energy. Bridgett remembered the way her entire body felt lighter and more energized when she had stood barefoot on the stone of the Well of Strands.

  It was still quite disorienting to see the world in two ways at once. The tips of their wands dimly lit the room, and she could see the shadows that danced away from her toward the edges of the circular, stone room. Yet, with her focus on the strands, the room seemed as brightly lit as a lake in full sunlight. It took a great deal of effort to navigate the room and to observe the objects it contained while still using her new ability to view the magical strands that permeated everything in sight.

  With great concentration, Bridgett forced her attention away from the well and around the rest of the small space. There was a small table and chair, a bookshelf containing a few texts stacked haphazardly and a variety of jars and boxes, and a large wooden chest spread out around the well. Based on the heavily woven strands that encircled the lid of the chest, Bridgett saw that it must be spelled in addition to the large lock that adorned the latch. She still did not fully understand what she was seeing when she looked at the strands, but the pattern seemed too regular not to be an intentionally orchestrated spell.

  Serha had described the book from her vision in detail, but in the stack on the shelf, Bridgett did not see any texts with seven symbols on the spine. Luckily, she also didn’t see any evidence of the dark fog or liquid that Serha had warned her about. The stone basin in the floor held nothing but strands of magic from Archana. Bridgett gathered up the books in one arm and turned to scan the room before leaving. Trevar was crouching on the floor near the desk with his back to her. Bridgett walked around the well and came up behind him.

  He was staring down at an open book on the floor. He looked up when Bridgett approached him, and she was assaulted by the strength of his emotions. Her Empath ability threatened to overwhelm her as tears flooded her eyes.

  “Trevar, what is it?” Her voice was weak and choked with his feelings.

  “It is everything. It is how to get in. It is the one we need.” Speaking wit
h her seemed to calm him down, and as his influence on her gift waned she was able to identify his emotion. What she thought must be sadness or terror, to have such an effect on her, was nothing of the sort. The intensity of the emotion must have been due to the recent, agonizing lack of it for both of them—it was hope.

  5 — Patterns on Parchment

  Osric entered the Tipsy Tree with a heavy heart. He took a seat at the bar and nodded to Leisha. She had a steaming mug of rulha in front of him before he had scanned the room and its meager collection of scattered patrons. He smiled his thanks and sipped the beverage slowly. Within moments Kenneth had taken the stool next to him.

  “What is it with cryptic languages and unreadable books that we can’t seem to avoid?” Osric’s frustration was tempered by his friendly sarcasm.

  “You’re just such a mysterious guy, Os. Of course one mystery after another falls in your lap.”

  “Right. I knew it was my fault.” His half-hearted laughter showed he was only partially joking.

  “So what is it this time?”

  “That book we picked up from the island well is exactly what we need, and we aren’t any closer to being able to use it. Trevar is sure it’s the key to the well locations and access, but he can’t actually read it. No one in this city seems to have any idea what language most of it is written in, never mind being able to translate it,” Osric said. Kenneth whistled softly into his mug of mead and shook his head.

  “Just our luck. How can the kid be sure it’s the right book if he can’t read it?”

  “Something about the symbols. He was taught the book exists, but he had never seen it before. He insists no other book would have those symbols on it. He seems sure, so I see no reason to doubt it until we can get it translated. If he’s right, it could mean the only way we can defeat Dredek without sacrificing every innocent life that pledges to our cause.”

  “So what are we going to do?” Kenneth finished off his drink and shook his head when Leisha offered a refill. “How are we going to find someone to read it?”

  “I’ve got Aridis and Eublin working on that. I am more concerned about being ready to pursue the wells when the locations are discovered. I need you to make sure the men are ready. I also want to do some specific recruiting.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Kenneth turned his full attention on his friend.

  “Up until now, we have been taking in any trustworthy body who wants to help. If we are going to successfully use the wells, we are going to need specific gifts and skill sets. I wish I knew more about how they work, but Bridgett has been able to get a bit more information from Trevar since we found the book.” Osric looked around as the bar began to fill up with regulars seeking an evening meal. “Let’s head back to the barracks and I will fill you in.”

  Kenneth nodded and rose from his stool. “I need to stop by the Vigil assignment post at the palace. There are a few men I will need to speak with later when we are done, and I don’t want them out on patrol when I call for them.”

  “Just meet me in the south dining hall when you’re done.” Osric left a few coins on the bar and headed back to the barracks.

  * * *

  “Sprites seem attracted to the magic in this place.” James smiled and leaned back in his chair. “They take care of tending the fields as if they were created to sculpt perfectly tailored grounds. There are more of them every day, and whether that is from mating or whether more just gather in our enclosure, I don’t know. And their tending has caused remarkable improvements in our yields from the garden. Orson’s contribution to the gardens aside, I think the sprites have done more to improve our crops than anything we could have done.”

  “So do you think it’s the barrier that is bringing the sprites, or the magics we are experimenting with inside?” Osric squinted, unsure of the direction the conversation was taking.

  “I am hopelessly lost when it comes to things of that nature. Food is my specialty.” James chuckled.

  “I think it is both the barrier and the experiments.” David, the young lad who helped run the kitchen, spoke nervously from where he stood fidgeting behind James’s chair.

  “So, what’s the problem with them helping us keep the grounds tended?” Osric asked. James had asked Osric to stop by the kitchen because they needed his help with something, but as the conversation progressed, Osric was having a harder time grasping the problem. “Are they causing trouble for our new herds?”

  James’s belly moved in silent laughter. “Absolutely not. The herd is doing great. We’ve set aside several mates for the bull so we can start raising our own cattle, and the sprites have started tending to them as well. They seem to have a sense that tells them to keep the cattle grounds a bit taller than the rest, which leaves the cattle with more than enough to eat.”

  “But there aren’t enough.” David’s voice barely reached Osric’s ear.

  “What’s that?” He leaned in to elicit more volume.

  “There’s not enough cattle, especially for the size of the group now.” David dragged his boot on the floor, staring at the marks it left on the dusty stone. It wasn’t a lack of passion, Osric sensed, but merely a byproduct of timidity that caused him to behave the way he was. The lad was demonstrating a great deal of courage in just speaking with the riot of emotion that was inside his head. “Four hundred and forty-three live within our walls, at last count. And we’re still growing, so it’s probably closer to five hundred by now.”

  “How many head are in our herd?”

  “Twenty-five,” the young kitchen attendant answered with a bit more authority.

  “And how many animals does it take to feed us?” Osric turned his attention to James, who looked thoroughly bored with the conversation.

  “Although I do appreciate his rationing state of mind, which is the primary reason I chose to bring him in, I believe he is incorrect in these matters.” James sighed and sat up in his chair before continuing.

  “We consume roughly a head a day, but that is not an entirely accurate statement. As we speak, some of that meat is still being made into meals, like the sausage that is curing or the dried meat for our travelers. But one a day will remain a fair constant until our stockpiles have been built up, for at least the next few months.”

  With so few head to work with, Osric could see why the boy’s nerves were worn thin. The herd that had promised them a great start to self-sufficiency would be eliminated before the month’s end, and James was speaking of months at the current rate of consumption.

  “However,” James continued, “we have our hunters who can add other food to our stock, and many of those recruits have only recently completed the training they began when joining our cause. With the new recruits adding to the already skilled hunters, things don’t look so bad. And I still have my arrangements with hunters and gatherers outside of the Aranthian habitat. Many of them are excited about my latest venture into opening a dining hall, and they look forward to having another way to make a few coins for a day’s hunt. With the prices we have set, I’ll make sure they are paid well for their efforts too. If my figures are correct, the hall could supply a great deal of meats that the Aranthians need just from hunters eager to earn a better wage for their efforts.”

  Osric knew he was referring to the old Vigil barracks that existed outside of the protection spell. Through some extraordinary magic that he didn’t entirely understand, he was able to pull their current habitat out of that world and anchor it in a place of its own that only the trustworthy could access.

  “Just when were you going to tell me about your plans to open a dining hall? We need you here.” Osric was beginning to feel concerned.

  “Come now, Osric. At nearly five hundred men in this safe haven, I have too many hands working for me to man just one kitchen. It’s come to a point where I have to expand or I’ll lose people from sheer boredom. We already cure all of our own meat, from bacon to”—his eyes searched the ceiling in vain—“to whatever you can think of.
Now I have the opportunity to do something I have long dreamt of. And in doing that, I will be able to give sustainability, real sustainability, to a group that has not only captured my heart but my imagination.”

  James had locked eyes with Osric, and there was a fire in the fat chef’s words.

  “I’m just not sure if we have the coin in the coffers to start another project at this time.” Osric’s head swayed back and forth as he tried to gently break the worst part of the news to a man who deserved a chance at achieving his dreams. No small part of Osric’s mind yearned to have his chance at the slow and measured life he had always desired too. It broke his heart to have to say no. In spite of his own misgivings, James’s chest began to rumble with laughter.

  “The purchase is already made. Eublin is using the twin of the space we use here for the library, and I purchased a bit more than the old kitchen from the Ryhain for my project. Do you think I ate my way through every bit of money I earned with a cart that cost me seven day’s maintenance a year?” As blood filled his face, his cheeks turned red. “I’ve supplied half the honey in Stanton for over a decade with my beehives. I have twenty casks of mead I’ve made, and my cart did very well. I… I’ve knocked down walls, decorated, and built a stage. I’ve even got three floors of seating for the music that will be there: the main floor, and two balconies. Pebble has been selling wands out of the old blacksmith shop for a few days, and crowds are growing. I’ve named it the Meat and Meadery, and I open in three days. It’ll be the best place to eat in this town, and I’ll be two hundred strides from Pebble, the shop of the best Wand-Maker on Archana! People will travel for miles just to see that adorable little guy. I know because my first five days of business are completely booked—all three seatings!

  “This is something I want to do, not only for myself, but for the Aranthian organization. Halls like mine survive off of hunters, and with the volume I’ll be serving nobody will miss one elk or deer, or seven. Not to mention the fact that the entire operation will be run by our men, our Aranthians.” James ended his speech with a flourished smile and head waggle.