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

by Jack D. Albrecht Jr.

  “She told me she wished to be buried beneath the stone at our borders.” Aridis still wept, but his words were growing more clear as he expressed her final wishes.

  Osric spared a moment to look towards Eublin, whose eyes burned with passion as well as sorrow. There was a life’s worth of intensity buried in the expression, but he held his tongue. Osric nodded out of respect to the gnome for keeping his call for social reform to himself, for the time being. Still, Osric knew that there would be a reckoning to come. No small part of him wished to join in the call, but how could they change a world of culture with the strength of one man’s cries?

  He needed time to figure out how to deal with his new powers—to learn how to incorporate a constant stream of new abilities in a way that was good for something more than boasting of the power within. He needed time to figure out the whole truth behind his wand—what new magics his wand could introduce to him. He needed time to repair the separation that he and Bridgett had endured—their relationship deserved the time that faulty prophecy had taken from them. He needed time for Machai to get the dwarves to join their side—they couldn’t hope to gain access to the Well of Strands without their help. He needed time to learn what was behind the dragon attacks—for as far back as known stories were told, dragons had always been friends to walkers. And now, it seemed, he needed time to figure out how he was going to help Eublin change the hunt—maybe the most daunting task of them all.

  The hunt was a tradition that claimed to keep all of the species of Archana at peace. Meat was something that was highly sought after, and if it weren’t for the hunt, wars might have broken out based on the fact that families needed meals in order to survive. Populations of cities and animal colonies would have grown so large that there would not have been enough farmland to sustain them. Then wars would have been fought over the shortage of land to cultivate crops for the masses. It was the hunt that kept all of Archana from erupting into war at any given moment.

  These were the ideas behind the tradition that Osric had grown up hearing, internalizing, and repeating. He truly did believe that the hunt kept the world fed while also keeping Archana peaceful. He had never thought to question the ideas, but then again, he had never thought he would be leading an army into war. These days he had to question everything he had ever known, and that included the hunt. Could the gracious acceptance of a loved one serving as someone else’s meal truly keep the world at peace and keep the populations in check?

  No, it would take decades for problems like that to arise, and Eublin was very convincing with his arguments that those were problems that could be solved in the intervening time. Osric was starting to see that there was wisdom in the gnome’s words. It was time for the hunt to change or to evolve into something that wasn’t quite as open to interpretation as the hunt had been for so long. It was time to provide a way for some to have an existence outside of the hunt, but what would a world like that look like? How would they implement such a drastic change? What could he do?

  Yes, he needed time…

  Unfortunately, time was one of the many things they had too little of. Soon Dredek would be ready to achieve his final goal, to revive the caldereth. Who knew what would happen if the caldereth controlled the Well of Strands? He felt as if he knew too little about the race to know what Dredek would do once he had brought his people back from the dead. They had learned a great deal about the way the caldereth taught their people, and about their language, the way they lived, mated, and farmed. The instructional lessons recorded on the stones had given them a picture of a culture that strove to advance their understanding of magic, educate and train their youth, and maintain healthy, happy communities in the frigid environment they favored, but there was still so much they didn’t know.

  To be fair, while studying the stones had been a priority, it took a long time to filter through all of the material to find something useful. Dozens of stones were still waiting to be viewed because they still had not figured out how to duplicate the viewing device. Only one stone could be activated at a time, and there were many other things that needed to be accomplished by the small population of the Aranthian compound.

  They had no idea how the caldereth had known so much about the Well of Strands, or why they had believed that moving their entire population to the well’s site was necessary. They had not learned much about the magic that the caldereth knew, as the lessons were largely focused on what young members of the society needed to learn first. They didn’t know exactly why Dredek had lived for so long, although it was clear that the normal caldereth lifespan was significantly longer than a human’s. They certainly hadn’t learned how Dredek was capable of taking another’s ability and fusing it into himself. Most of all, nothing on the stones could tell them the lengths to which Dredek’s mourning would drive him. The emotional turmoil that he had sensed from Dredek in their fight caused Osric to doubt that this was the fight that all of the prophecies had been warning him about, but it was obvious that Dredek was willing to kill as many people as it would take to bring back his people. If he would go to such lengths to revive his race, what might he do once they were alive and he felt the need to protect them or provide them all with the wealth and the power he had grown accustomed to himself?

  Time was not something they could waste, and now Serha was lost to them, which left a hollow feeling in Osric’s gut. He surveyed the shocked faces in the room. Bridgett kept her face low to hide her tears as she tended to Aridis. Gus had a blank, worried stare on his face as he looked across the room.

  Eublin had made himself useful by fetching several pots of water to warm over the fire, but he carried himself with sunken shoulders. Kenneth helped Bridgett tend to the wounds on Aridis that still needed attention.

  Through Aridis’s wailing, the binding of wounds, silent mourning, and several bodies moving in and out of the room, wisps of smoke swirled in the corner of the room. A thickly muscled man with a braid down one side of his beard sat in a chair, hidden from view by his lack of movement. He puffed quietly on the end of a wooden pipe and kept to himself while the room bristled with sullen life. He wore a look of long-felt sorrow that teemed with ancient turmoil.

  8 — Buried in Sand

  A shaky hand moved slowly down the cold stone wall. Dredek braced himself internally as the raking tremor gripped his body. His only comfort came in the form of a thick woolen cloak he pulled tightly around himself. The tremors were expected, but still they tested his strength and forced him to curl tightly on the floor in the corner of the small, dark room.

  “It will pass.” The whispered voice of his personal physician, Jalyn, was as soothing as his expression. “But you must give yourself more time before attempting to merge another gift. You didn’t wait long enough since the last, and it very nearly cost you your life.”

  “The opportunity presented itself and I had to have this gift—it will aid in more ways than you could know.” Dredek forced his body to relax and unclenched his fists while stretching out on the floor.

  Jalyn had been loyal for reasons Dredek could never glean in all of the years he had known him. It was comforting to him to not understand the purpose behind the loyalty after such a long life of searching for truths.

  Decades had passed while he searched for a way to revive the bones he had kept hidden. He had searched through libraries, citadels, barracks, bookstores, and all manner of hidden locations in palaces across Archana. Knowledge had been a lifetime pursuit, while carefully disguising his caldereth heritage. But all of his hiding was near an end… even if he was forced to endure a few months of discomfort. He was happy to keep the reasoning for Jalyn’s devotion a secret, if it made him feel better.

  But this time the tremors were more persistent than they had ever been in the past. Osric had been the worthiest opponent he had been up against to date. The sword of his was truly spectacular. The way he used it to gain the powers of those he faced was remarkable. He was a powerful man, but he lacked the experience
with the gifts that Dredek had so carefully mastered over the years. It had to have been the density of the strands bound to the life strand within the inexperienced boy that caused him so much pain in taking the gift and its associated power. For most, the rending of a gift from one’s life strand would be enough to sever it and end the life, but Dredek was sure Osric had survived—a worthy opponent indeed.

  “But still, master, you need to rest if you hope to regain your strength.” Jalyn spoke in soothing tones that caused Dredek’s body to relax. Voice was a gift that never interested Dredek, but he did enjoy being in the company of one with it.

  “I intend to rest just as soon as I can verify that everything is going as planned. We’ve been here far too long to not have found a trace of the well’s location. And these men who keep interfering with our efforts must be stopped.”

  “Yes, master, we have those with the sight seeking areas with high concentrations of strands hoping to find a pathway, but there are so many places like that in these tunnels that we keep running into rooms that lead nowhere. And our troops continue to search for the few irua holdouts that must be left, but they are far too good at evading us. We had a few robed irua that we thought could lead us to the well, but we found our guards unconscious when we went to interrogate them. The guards spoke of two Aranthians rescuing the hostages, shortly before they were executed for failing you.”

  “We do not have as large an army as I would like. Let’s keep the executions to a minimum for a time.” It wasn’t as easy to speak as he had expected. It hadn’t taken as long to recover from rending Osric’s strands as it had on the other occasions he had stolen a gift, but the finer control of his body was taking a great deal longer with every gift he appropriated.

  “As you wish, master. How would you like to go about finding the ones who can lead us into the well?” Jalyn bowed.

  “I’ve told you to have those with the sight look closely at the life strand. The ones we are looking for have two strands, but it is nearly impossible to see the difference. The second strand carries no power and coils itself around the life strand. It’s nearly invisible. Only those who know about it would know to look as close as is needed. Make sure our men take the time to look closely at the prisoners. We may already have what we are looking for. They won’t all be in robes. That coiled strand is the key to unlock the door, and once unlocked our plans will be hard to stop.”

  Jalyn placed a calm hand on Dredek’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “You really must rest. You’ve not given yourself the time you need to recover. We will find these men, but if you are to achieve your goals then we need you strong. The new gift is speeding your recovery, but the rest of your senses haven’t adjusted. You must give them the time they need.”

  “Jalyn, you have been very attentive since the battle, and indeed you have been for years, but I assure you I know what is best for me. Have you found a large shallow basin for me yet?” Dredek glared at his assistant, not wanting him to continue forcing the issue with his gift.

  “I have been given news that one was found several levels from our current location and is being brought to us forthwith. If we were more familiar with these tunnels, I am sure it would have arrived by now. Can I ask what you need with it?”

  Dredek closed his eye as the world began to spin, uncontrolled, and he steadied himself against the stone wall to his back. “It will help me to heal, but the how of it is for me to know.” He took several deep breaths. “And what of the other supplies we need? Have we located any more?”

  “We have located several food stores selling mostly grains and roots. They are nothing special, but more than enough to sustain our army while we are here.”

  “Yes, of course.” Dredek motioned with his hand for Jalyn to continue.

  “Several levels have something resembling farms, and they have a most peculiar way of lighting the crops. Once we understand how the devices work, we will be a lot closer to being able to sustain a large population. Water was the easiest to locate. There are several springs and wells located throughout each level.”

  “Of course, these are the simple tasks I gave you. Have you found any of the items that I asked you to find?” Dredek looked at his companion with disdain. There was no doubt that Jalyn knew exactly what was being asked.

  “Well, uh. We have located kadmel root and wolf’s essence, but we are finding it difficult to locate any petrified deadman’s stalk. I’m not sure where else we could look.” Jalyn produced a small sack from his satchel and sat it on the bedside table.

  Dredek bent over and grasped the small pouch he had brought with him into the room and tossed it shakily up to Jalyn. “I found this within an hour of entering these tunnels. It shouldn’t be hard to locate some that has been petrified when it is so easily found in the city.”

  “I know it may seem…”

  “Enough!” Dredek had had enough of the conversation. “You will find me what I need or I will find someone who can. Look in every apothecary shop and home in these tunnels if you have to. I need that stalk.”

  “Of course. It will be done.” Jalyn nodded as a man entered the room holding a bowl. “Just in time. Set that on the table next to Dredek and leave us.”

  A tall human male in standard military dress carried the basin to the table and set it down. After a nod of respect in Dredek’s direction, he turned and walked out of the room. Jalyn filled the wide, shallow bowl with water and stood patiently waiting.

  “Now, if you would kindly leave me to my business and make sure that nobody disturbs me.” Dredek dismissed Jalyn with a stern expression and a wave of the hand.

  Jalyn looked hurt by the easy manner with which he was sent away but bowed his head as he backed out of the room.

  Dredek took a vial from his belt and emptied it into the water, mixing it with his finger. Then he sat waiting as ripples met the edges of stone and washed back over the bowl growing smaller with each pass. Soon, the distortion caused by the waves faded and he was left with still, calm water, darkened only by the contents of the vial.

  Once all motion had ceased, the water changed to a vivid silver color that reflected nothing. Dredek smiled as he leaned over the bowl—the earth and stone surrounding him didn’t bother him nearly as much as it had when he activated the one gift that had been with him through all of the years and peered at the strands within himself. This mirror of sorts was not his creation, but a gift created for him by the woman who held his every hope for the future—a woman whose bones lay buried in a chest he had kept safe since her death.

  The Portentist gift stood distinctly separate from the gifts that he had become familiar with. Shimmering in a bright purple color at the top of his neck, the orb sat vibrating in a disturbingly unsecure fashion. He slipped his wand out from the band that held it to his upper arm and turned it on himself.

  It was delicate work, linking the gift into a more centralized location. It would never fit him like a gift that had grown over time, but these steps were the next best thing, and with every small measure of stabilization, the world became clearer and more defined. It was an act he had performed many times, and he had grown much more proficient at stabilizing the abilities in his own body over the decades.

  He continued to work, slowly linking the gift into a more stable setting—he felt more alive with every passing second. When he had completed as much of the work as he had the strength for, he leaned back against the wall and shook with the effort it had taken. The short times spent stabilizing his new gift would go a long way toward helping him recover, though he still needed some time alone before he would feel like himself again. There were times he would have to be around others, but he had to minimize the number of times when his soldiers would see him in his compromised state. Summoning all of the strength he had left to keep from weeping, he let himself slip into calm and silent rest.

  9 — Another Below

  The spell’s effects dwindled as Machai steadied himself, leaning against a frost-cove
red cliffside and counting his companions as they appeared. The traveling spell was worse on some than others, and he stood patiently as the small group of dwarves gathered their wits and the disorientation faded.

  They had chosen a familiar location a quarter day’s climb from the entrance to FireFalls, and Machai relished the sting of the cold air against his skin. His men grunted and grinned as they gazed around at the frigid landscape they had always called home. After the scorching heat of the irua desert, and the intensity of the fighting, the northern mountains provided a peaceful reprieve. Machai gathered the group together and spoke in hushed tones.

  “Ye be the best companions I could be fighting alongside, but even ye willn’t be enough to be overpowering Dredek’s army. We need to be getting inside and convincing the clan to join us.” The dwarves nodded silently as Machai continued. “But ye be sent out with a wagon of swords, and ye be coming back with me. It willn’t be easy to be swaying Thenar to the cause.”

  “It be that cur Aron’s fault that we be empty-handed for the weapons. Thenar willn’t be blaming ye for that debt,” Lynth said.

  “Ye be young, Lynth, which be not a flaw.” Machai shook his head in disbelief at the younger dwarf’s words. “But ye be naïve if ye be thinking that Thenar willn’t be blaming us all for such a failure. Ye be sent out with a shipment of weapons, but ye be not returning with the gold he be promised. He willn’t be caring that Aron be breaching fair-trade agreements by ambushing us on the road, and he willn’t be caring that Aron be threatening me or taking Osric hostage. He will only be blaming me, and Kablis as the shipment overseer, for allowing Aron’s men to be loading the gold back into the wagons and taking it with the weapons back to Rowain. For Thenar, we may as well be the ones who be stealing the weapons—or stealing the gold, for that matter. Ye shouldn’t be expecting a warm welcome home.”