“He hasn’t even told you that there is another thirty-five head on its way from one of our new recruit’s own farms, has he?” Kenneth approached from behind Osric. “You probably didn’t even tell David about them, did you?”
“Well, ah…” James suddenly stumbled over his words. “He’s got to learn to trust his elders. I know more about what is in store than anyone in my kitchen. I can’t be expected to explain everything to them or they won’t appreciate the magic that is me.” His thick cheeks turned a distinct color of red.
“So, more cattle are on the way?” Osric clarified.
“Thirty-five should arrive by mid week. One of the newly trusted sold his farm to join our cause. He kept thirty-five head as part of the selling agreement, and they are en route from Dragsden.” James glared at Kenneth for spoiling the mystery. “And we still have our hunters out getting a couple different animals each week. We are in no danger of going hungry in the near future.”
“So, what exactly did you want to ask me? I am a bit lost as to what this was all about. Didn’t you say you needed help with something?” Osric felt a bit uncertain. If they had spent all this time just to give him the news that James was opening a dining hall, what could the favor be?
“Well, I told you already. I need your permission to man the second kitchen with our people—the Aranthians.” James looked at Osric, befuddled.
“Oh.” Osric sat up as several excited voices entered the room.
“Osric, we have got things to discuss.” Aridis smiled as he led Bridgett, Eublin, Serha, and Gus into the room.
“Of course. Come in.” He turned to James and David with a smile. “You have my permission to use the men you need. Will that help?”
“Fantastic.” James stood up and turned to David, patting him on the shoulder. “Now, let’s leave these people to discuss more important issues. We’ll send out some food and drinks for you all to enjoy as you talk.”
“Thank you, James.” Osric shook his hand and turned to focus on the new matters.
“Still up to filling me in?” Kenneth asked.
“Sure.” Osric turned to Aridis and said, “I was about to get Kenneth up to speed on the situation with the book, but it sounds like you have something new. What is it?”
“We were hoping to hear that you had come up with a plan for reading the book. Did you find anything in the spoken spell book?” Bridgett asked. Osric shook his head, but before he could respond, Kenneth interrupted.
“Wait, I feel very left out right now. What do we know about this thing?”
“Nothing useful,” Gus spoke up in his grumpiest voice. “We think it will save the day, but we can’t learn anything from it. No surprises there, so this is probably just another waste of our time.”
“Gus,” Bridgett scolded, “that isn’t quite accurate. We know that the book contains the locations to the wells, as well as the symbols necessary for Trevar to get us in.”
“You mean to get you in,” Gus interrupted.
“And we think the language is a code of some sort, not an actual language that none of us have ever seen before. Between Aridis, Eublin, and Serha, if it were in a known language we would have identified it by now, even if we couldn’t read it,” Bridgett continued, ignoring Gus’s sarcastic remark. “Trevar recognizes some of the symbols, but he can’t read enough of it to translate the book for us. He thinks he has identified the portion of the text that lists the locations of the wells, but we can’t make sense of it. There are maps, but none of the markings seem to correlate directly with the location of the well we visited, and if the text explains it, we just don’t know enough yet to tie them together. Unfortunately, Trevar has no knowledge of where the symbols he uses to enter the well came from. He was never taught the history of the marks. He was only taught how to perform them properly to gain access.”
“So then, whoever created the wells probably created the symbolic language as well. Do we know who that was?” Kenneth asked.
“Not exactly, but I am hoping we will soon find out.” Aridis rested his gnarled hands on the long wooden table they were gathered around.
“How are we going to do that?” Osric asked.
“I have sent for someone who may be able to tell us. I am not sure, however, when he will arrive.”
“But you are sure he is coming?” Osric wished that Aridis would be more forthcoming with information, rather than dropping cryptic hints and phrases so often.
“I am confident that he will be located and persuaded to aid us, yes.”
“Great,” Gus spoke up. “So we don’t even know where he is, never mind if he is going to agree to come here, or if he can be trusted to help us if he does. You are a wealth of confidence for our cause, old man.”
“Enough.” Osric slammed his hand on the table. “Let’s stop focusing on what we don’t know for a moment and try to decide what we can do with what we do know. Gus, it would be immensely helpful if you could forgo the sarcasm and put your brilliance to work on solving some of these problems.” Osric ran a hand through his sandy hair in frustration, his stern expression showing no remorse for his reprimand. Gus crossed his arms at his chest and grumbled under his breath as Osric continued in a calmer tone. “Assuming this man arrives to help, and he can tell us who created the wells, that still doesn’t help us read the text. We need to find someone who is good at deciphering symbols. Perhaps Trevar knows more than he is aware of regarding the meaning of the symbols. That would be a start at least.”
“There may still be something in the book of spoken spells that can help with that,” Eublin said excitedly. “I have stopped looking for an obvious spell, and now I am going through the whole thing again seeking a combination of spells that might work together to help us decode the symbols.”
“I like that idea, Eublin. Gus, can you help him with that?” Osric’s tone made the question sound more like a command than an inquiry. “Aridis, see what you can find out about this man you have sent for. If you can’t give us any more information now, perhaps you can learn something new you would be willing to share. Kenneth, ask some of the Vigils and see if you can find someone with experience in symbols and codes. The more experience in multiple languages, the better. It seems likely that there was a starting point to this language from something familiar. If we can find that starting seed, perhaps we can discover some of the meanings from there. Isn’t there anyone here among the Angmar refugees who is part of Trevar’s sect? Maybe they would be willing to teach Bridgett how to enter the wells, since Trevar says she has whatever is necessary to be trusted in the wells.”
“I’ll see who I can find, right away,” Kenneth said, nodding with determination as the room cleared out and everyone rushed away to seek answers.
“Bridgett,” Osric sighed, leaning back as the weight of his concerns pressed heavily upon him. She stood behind him and rested her hands on his hunched shoulders, easing some of his tension with deft fingers. “I will join you for dinner, and we can discuss our next move. Have you eaten anything today?”
“Honestly, I don’t think I have,” Bridgett said. She looked down at his creased brow with concern, touched by his consideration for something so simple when he had so much on his mind. The food James had promised arrived just as everyone else left, and Osric and Bridgett enjoyed their meal in the quiet comfort of each other’s company.
6 — The Hermit
Stargon crouched against the rocks, clinging to the side of the mountain securely with his claws. The dragon had been flying over the hills and valleys surrounding the mountain pass for days, and he was beginning to curse Aridis for sending him to do the impossible. Everything else that the old wizard had requested of him the last few times they spoke at Lost Lake, Stargon had accomplished. Now, much time had passed and he had yet to complete his last task. Stargon had never failed Aridis before, and he understood the necessity of his task, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to succeed this time.
The land still felt unfamili
ar as Stargon gazed down from his perch and scanned the path below. Aridis had asked for the dragons’ help in locating many places, but Stargon wasn’t sure he would ever find this one. Perhaps Aridis had been wrong about what to look for, or maybe a rockslide had occurred and the path was no longer where it should be.
Stargon pushed off the side of the mountain, spreading his wings to catch the air current, and let out a cry of frustration. He would fly one final pass over the area, and if he could not locate the exact place Aridis had described, he would have to admit failure and return to Lost Lake. He had seen several streams with similar characteristics, and he had seen a few of the rare flowering bushes, but he could not find the two together.
Stargon flew just under the dense clouds, following the narrow valleys below. His keen eyes searched for signs of the strange flowers as he swiftly viewed the twisting and turning streams that cut through the rocky terrain. He turned in a wide, slow circle, and just before he would have given up and traveled back to his homeland, a small flame caught his eye. The light was more of a flicker than a fire, but it was enough to draw the dragon’s attention and send him gliding down toward a rocky outcropping. Night was coming on fast and daylight was fading behind the peaks. Stargon landed on a wide ledge of stone and pierced the twilight with his gaze.
The small flame was coming from the center of a large, red flower. The leaves of the plant were broad and dark, slowly curling away from three flowers near the center of the low-growing bush. Each flower’s five petals were pale yellow at the base, gradually warming and darkening to a vivid red and deepening to black at the tips as they curved toward the small flame in the center of the flower. Other than a few scraggly trees and hardy grasses fighting for purchase in the rocks, the glowing bush was the only flora in sight.
The bush sat protected by several large rocks in the center of a narrow stream of water rushing along the curve of a valley. It was just as Aridis had said it would be, and Stargon sighed in relief. He was still far from accomplishing his actual task, but finding the final location in his journey was a good start. He needed to be at the area at sunrise, although Aridis was unable to give him much more information than that. Stargon curled up on the warm slab of stone and waited to see what the morning would bring.
Stargon woke hungry long before dawn. He found a meal easily enough in one of the large scavenger birds that circle high over the remains of unfortunate desert inhabitants who wander too far from home. Stargon returned to his rocky perch and intently watched the curve of the stream around the flaming flowers. As morning arrived, the sun crept across the rocks and brightened the sky to a brilliant blue. Soon, he was surprised to see a man slip from between two large boulders and approach the water’s edge. The man knelt, filling a skin from the stream and then quickly splashing his face and arms with the crystal-clear water. Stargon stood up and spread his wings wide to attract the man’s attention. The dragon’s shadow stretched out over the mountainside in the morning sunlight, and the man stood up slowly, shielding his eyes from the sun as he gazed up at Stargon.
The man scanned the ridge, looking for a rider. He approached the dragon slowly with his fists clenched. Stargon watched him carefully, trying to determine if he really was the legend Aridis had sent him to find. He was tall and heavily muscled, with a long blond beard braided down one side. Stargon found it hard to believe he was as old as Aridis claimed, but he had the markings on his skin as described. The massive dragon folded his wings against his sides and waited calmly as the man climbed up to him.
“You’re a long way from a dragon platform.” The man’s voice was gruff, as if he rarely used it.
“You are Pendres?”
“What are you doing here? What do you want?”
“I was sent to find you. There is a wizard in the Human Realm who needs your help. War is threatening every realm.”
“I can’t help anyone. Leave me alone.” The man glared up at Stargon, and the morning light caught the deep red pigments of the ink along his temple.
“It seems you can do a great deal to help. I need you to return with me.” The dragon’s tone was quiet but insistent.
“How did you find me?”
“I was given directions. However, it was no easy task. Why are you hiding?” Stargon eyed the man warily.
“Who says I am hiding?”
“Your remote location and self-imposed exile speaks for itself. When was the last time you visited the Human Realm?”
“A lifetime ago. What do you want?” The man’s eyes still scoured the surroundings for an unseen rider as he bit off his terse questions.
“I was sent here to find you because prophecy ties you to the end of this war.”
“I can’t help you. I’m not a soldier anymore.”
“I do not know what role you are to play,” Stargon spoke carefully but with little patience, “but prophecy has cast you in it, with or without your cooperation.”
“I’m done with war, and with prophecy, so you should just be on your way.” Pendres glared up at the dragon.
“I was sent a very long way to find you, and if the High-Wizard’s success rests on your shoulders, you will be returning with me. You can come willingly, come along unwillingly, or I can just eat you now.” Stargon growled through curled lips.
“If only it were that easy, I would drape myself across your teeth. I would experience all of the pain but fail to gain the welcome release of death; otherwise I would encourage you to eat me.” The man had a strange expression of longing and disgust on his face. “Now, tell me more about this High-Wizard.”
“He is powerful, but humble. He freed my kin from the cages on Mount Braya, and he defeated the Kallegian to defend his home and his people. Even the unicorns are in awe of him.” Stargon hadn’t thought about what he would need to explain to this strange hermit, as it had been a long time since he had come across a human who hadn’t heard the stories of Osric and the feats that made the High-Wizard a household name. The only signs Pendres showed that he was impressed with what he heard was a slight tightening of his jaw and a narrowing of his eyes. Stargon continued, “Nearly every walker that I respect in the slightest rallies around him, aiding him in his mission, but they are outnumbered and lacking the experience and skill of the enemy. Still, Osric is more powerful than any other, and he will win. Somehow, you are going to contribute to his victory. It has been foreseen.”
Pendres slipped the straps of a small pack from his shoulder and then rifled through the bag. He pulled out a fruit that resembled an apple with white skin, and he took a bite as he listened to Stargon speak, juice dribbling into his thick beard.
“And the war? What is worth the bloodshed and destruction of war?” Pendres asked.
“The turgent of the Human Realm has launched an attack against the irua in their home city. The turgent has taken Angmar.”
“Angmar?” Pendres sounded shocked and he viewed the dragon suspiciously. “The Well of Strands?”
“They are hoping you can help them understand the well, among other things.”
“I fought that war once already. I never want to be there again.” Pendres shook his head and turned to walk away from the great creature.
“The man who sent me here to find you believes he knows why you are still alive. He said to give you a message if you declined the request to aid him. He said that he knows how to end time for you.” Stargon called out the message from Aridis clearly, although he was quite sure his mission would fail. Pendres turned back slowly, expressions of anger and pain flashing across his face.
“Who sent you here?” Pendres’s voice took on a vicious edge.
“An Obcasior. I would be glad to take you to him and introduce you.”
“Yes, you will take me to him, but I wouldn’t bother with the introductions.”
“If you attempt to harm him, I will eat you after all.” Stargon narrowed his swirling eyes with suspicion. “Slowly, and more than once if necessary.”
“I
won’t harm him unless he gives me reason, but I have some questions for him. I never intended to be sought out again.” Pendres used the lowest bone of Stargon’s wing as a step and launched himself onto the dragon’s back. “Where exactly are we going?”
“A city called Stanton. Have you ever been there?”
Pendres said nothing in return.
“Don’t you need to gather some things? Humans always travel with so much stuff.” Stargon swiveled his neck to allow him to see his passenger. Pendres adjusted the straps of his pack and glared back at the dragon’s swirling eye.
“I have everything I need.”
* * *
Stargon landed on the Stanton platform the next day with a travel-weary passenger on his back. He had waited until Pendres had fallen asleep late at night as they flew to travel most of the way back to Stanton by spoken spell. Although he had to spend much of the morning dodging questions about how they had made the journey so quickly, Aridis had made it clear how urgent it was to return swiftly. Pendres had finally let it drop and resumed his brooding silence. Aridis was waiting on the platform when they arrived.
“Pendres, thank you for coming. I realize my summons was likely unwelcome.”
“Your friend here, and your cryptic message, left me little choice.” The man swung himself down from Stargon’s back and approached the dragon’s head. “I have had no need for coins in a long time. I have nothing to offer but my gratitude. I do not hold you responsible for my presence here, but I do thank you for delivering me here safely.”
Stargon’s lips curled away from his massive teeth in a fearsome smile. “Your gratitude is sufficient, so long as you remember what I have said.”
“I remember.” Pendres nodded at Stargon. His expression showed no fear of the dragon eating him, but it was obvious he held a great respect for the creature. He turned toward the old man who had sent for him, studying the appearance of the Obcasior in one long look. His crooked frame, draped in tattered cloth and leaning heavily on a tall staff, seemed unimposing. His grey beard hung nearly to his waist, strangely contrasting his bald head. However, his eyes glinted with ancient knowledge and a quick wit, and Pendres silently vowed not to underestimate the man. “So why am I here?”
The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) Page 8