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

by Jack D. Albrecht Jr.

  Machai bid good morning to the sun as it washed the valleys below with cold light and then touched his wand to the lift. As he sank back down into the mountain, he closed his eyes for a moment and tried to etch the image of the sunlight and snow embracing his home into his memory. Come what may, he would be able to summon the sight at will and bask in something beautiful. The stone lift carried him deep into the mountain, past the levels containing the kitchens, the armory, the private quarters, and the craftsman’s labs. He stepped off of the platform as it came to rest at the tunnel to the Great Hall. There, the gathering would decide his success or failure.

  When Machai entered the hall, Kablis, several of their supporters, and all nine of the gathering members were already present. They were seated in small groups, against the wall or along the dais, sharpening and polishing weapons or engaged in hushed conversations. Machai entered with his head high, walked purposefully through the large room, and stepped up onto the dais. His weapons and armor had been brought down ahead of him, and he sat down among them and began to check his blades over, focusing completely on the task at hand and trying not to contemplate the trial ahead.

  Machai had been training and working with weaponry all of his life, and he had been in many battles, but never one couched in ritual or against his kin and clan cousins. The story of the gathering emphasized the debate, but the ceremony was far more complex and dangerous. Agrik had been with Machai and the nine members late into the night explaining how the gathering would work, how the tradition had evolved, and what they would be expected to do once they had committed to the ceremony. Though Kablis had challenged Thenar to the gathering, it was Machai’s battle to fight. Thenar had smiled smugly when Threed had informed him that Machai, not Kablis, would be engaging in the contest of wit and arms against the clan leader.

  The gathering was scheduled for mid’day, when the sun was at its apex, and the participants were growing anxious as the time approached. Shortly before the appointed time, Thenar arrived in the hall fully armored in gleaming mail and plate. He carried his highly polished helmet in one hand and a parchment scroll in the other. Threed followed behind bearing Thenar’s weapons and a scowl as his eyes landed on Machai sitting upon the dais. However, Thenar looked calm and he greeted the members of the gathering with welcoming smiles and hearty handshakes.

  Kablis joined Machai and helped him into his armor, securing the buckles of his chest plate while speaking reassuring and calming words to keep his nerves steady.

  “It be a battle of words. The blows be a ritual only. Ye cannot be defeated if ye have no opponents. Be brave, and for blade’s bounty be persuasive.” Machai nodded silently, breathing slowly and running his arguments through his mind until the words became an echoing chant in his head. Thenar was arrogant and ignorant in his refusal to aid the Aranthians, and Machai was determined to convince the gathered—or defeat them.

  Machai allowed the familiar space to calm him as he waited for the nine dwarves to don their armor and arm themselves. The cavernous room echoed with the sounds of low voices, jingling chainmail, and scraping metal. The height of the dais was minimal, but it was enough to provide Machai with an unobstructed view of the room. There were no furnishings other than a large brass bell near the door, but the walls were adorned with dusty tapestries depicting elaborate scenes of ancient battles and dwarven lore. Torches that were nested in iron brackets lined the walls, casting a warm glow throughout the room, and they burned without consuming fuel or emitting any smoke. The stone floor was worn smooth from the feet of generations of dwarves, and one of the stairs on the left side of the raised platform was cracked with one corner crumbling away. Machai thought it was appropriate, as he felt like he was a small piece of the clan being broken apart from the whole. Even if he won in the gathering, the harmony of the clan had been fractured by the need for a gathering in the first place. Machai’s attention was drawn back to the impending debate as the nine gathering members made their way up the steps and onto the dais.

  Thenar moved in closer to Machai with a smug expression on his face. The two stood nearly shoulder to shoulder, and the nine others formed a loose line behind them.

  “Ye shall be wishing ye had stayed in the dungeons before I be done with ye.” Thenar’s words were a low growl, only loud enough for Machai to hear. Machai gripped his sword tightly, and his response was just as quiet.

  “Do ye be surprised that I be slipping out of yer dungeon cell? It be a pitiful task compared to organizing a gathering in a mere three days, but we be managing that just fine as well. Here we be. Do ye still be underestimating me and the new magic that be sweeping across Archana? Imagine what we could be doing if we were truly yer enemy, rather than yer kin.”

  Kablis set the bell to ringing, and a steady stream of spectators entered the chamber. The Great Hall was nearly filled, as most every member of the FireFalls clan had turned out to watch the gathering, when Agrik nodded toward Thenar to indicate that mid’day had arrived and he could begin speaking. Thenar unrolled the scroll he held and looked out at the crowd before reading. Once he was finished, Machai would give his speech. As the Summoner, or the one who called the gathering, Machai would speak first and Thenar would respond. Then the questioning would begin.

  “FireFalls, today we be welcoming representatives of the nine clans to our mountain walls. A grievance be raised, and today we be settling it with the honor and tradition of a gathering. Ye be here to be witnessing a debate which be deciding the fate of many of ye and yer families. Our ancestors, when they be the one clan of all dwarves, be wisely seeking answers and agreements in the sacred rite of battle, and we be doing the same to be honoring their names.”

  As Thenar read off each name of the nine members, the dwarf raised his sword to loud cheers from the crowd. “Hern of BillowBluff, blood of Stasp! Jom of BlackAxe, blood of Tunft! Irto of FireFalls, blood of Uvet! Kant of IceIsle, blood of Behg! Prex of IronAnvil, blood of Gyln! Festil of IronForge, blood of Gring! Rhemt of SnowStand, blood of Metzel! Furtl of SteelBorne, blood of Myx! Legin of StoneStar, blood of Ware!”

  Thenar waited for the roar of the crowd to settle down, and then he continued reading from the scroll. “Today’s gathering will be determining if ye shall be forced to be marching to a war that be not yers. I and Machai be debating, and ye shall be seeing the verdict. There be no axes, no maces, no wands, and no magic allowed in the engagement. There be only swords and the strength of each dwarf.” He turned to the gathering members. “Ye be understanding yer rules?”

  “Aye.” Nine voices echoed in response.

  “Ye be prepared to be judging the debate based on what be best for the Dwarven Realm?”

  “Aye.” Again, all nine responded in unison.

  “Ye be charged with the honorable execution of our realm’s most sacred ritual. Ye be the voice and the judge of yer clan. Ye be the blood and the arm of yer ancestors. Ye be the final say in this debate.” Thenar nodded at the men, and they formed a well-armored ring around Thenar and Machai as the crowd looked on silently. Machai eyed the nine men with resolve, confident that he could sway them though still nervous at how much depended on the next words he spoke. He widened his stance and felt the comfortable weight of the short sword in his right hand, and then he turned to face the nine dwarves he had helped to bring together in the hall and proceeded with his speech.

  “Ye men be gathered here today, some at our request and others at our demand, but all to be participating in an honorable tradition of our dwarven heritage. Ye being here for the gathering be a mark of yer direct descending from our nine mighty clan founders. Ye all be having the blood of fierce warriors and strong dwarves in yer veins.” Machai gripped his sword tighter and furrowed his brows. “Ye all be having the blood of foolish men in yer veins.” All nine of the gathering members, as well as those watching, stood still, shocked and surprised at Machai’s disrespectful words. He stood quietly for a moment, his eyes scanning the faces of the nine men who could very well
determine who won the war, and he let the shock and confusion stir their emotions and thoughts. When it seemed inevitable that the discomfort would boil into anger and dissent, Machai raised his sword and his voice. “Ye be hearing the story of the last gathering as be I. So ye be knowing a gathering can be uniting a clan, or be severing it. We be knowing the clan leader be strong, and be brave, and be wise. We also be knowing the clan leader can be wrong.”

  Thenar scoffed and sneered at Machai, but he stood still on the dais and did not interrupt.

  “Nine men be at that last gathering too. It be the responsibility of those nine to be determining who be right. The problem be that all nine be thinking he be right, and be thinking the other eight be wrong. Either all nine be wrong, or only one in nine clan leaders be right.” Machai did not pause to allow the few sniggers that erupted to penetrate through the crowd. “Ye may be thinking that I be criticizing clan leaders because I be debating with mine. Ye be wrong. I be criticizing the clan leaders because they be destroying the unity of our people. They be so caught up in who be right and who be wrong that they be failing to see that they should be putting their differences down with their swords. If those nine gathering members be not fighting, be not debating, then they could be saving the clan instead of sundering it. We could be one mighty clan, be united by our ancestors rather than be divided by them.

  “Today ye be charged with judging a debate. Ye be the voice and sword arm of yer clan, and ye be the aye or nay that be sending a message about the Dwarven Realm to every other race on Archana. Ye be in a position to be saying ye be strong and brave and wise, or ye be wrong as those nine be wrong. Ye be able to be seeing the world as it be, splintered and scared, on the precipice of great evil and destruction, or ye be seeing yer clan, me clan, as those nine be seeing a need for new clans. Be hearing me tale, and be considering not what be the position of yer clan, but what be the future of yer clan, of the realm, of the world.” Machai took a deep breath and gently laid his sword on the floor. He straightened, hands held out with his palms up. He gazed out at his kin filling the room. His eyes narrowed and he clenched his teeth, then he turned his back on the crowd and faced the line of nine squarely. “Many of ye be hearing I be a traitor. At least one of ye be thinking I be a manipulative lurg. There be little reason for ye to be thinking otherwise, but I be assuring ye, I be no traitor. There be a wee bit more truth to that second one.

  “By now I be sure ye be hearing of Osric, the High-Wizard, and the role he be playing in much of the political turmoil in the Human Realm over the past year. I be meeting him first on me journey to Braya to be delivering a wagonload of weapons we be selling. There be much I willn’t be telling ye about me time in Braya, but I can be telling ye that I be seeing two of the most incredible things I ever be seeing in my life up unto that day. One be the most disgusting display of cruelty and disregard for another creature, and the other be the most impressive feat of magic ever to be accomplished, and it be in the service of another creature. That second one be done by the High-Wizard. I be accompanying him on his travels as he be seeking the man who be sabotaging the peace treaty signing in Stanton. He be finding him, and it be the man who be usurping the human Turgency. This man, Dredek, be not human. He be of a race that we be thinking extinct, and he be a few hundred years old.” Machai watched the eyes of the nine widen and their lips turn down with doubt. “That be not the most surprising thing about Dredek. He be using all that time to be gaining political and magical power, and to be perfecting the art of wielding unknown and dangerous magic. Recently, he be invading and conquering the irua city of Angmar. There, in the very near future, he be planning to be using obscenely powerful magic to be raising his kin from the dead.” Several of those in the gathering gasped, and confused and shocked cries rose up from the crowd behind Machai. “If ye, me kin, be wiped from the face of Archana, I cannot be saying I be not seeking the same. I cannot be saying I be thinking Dredek foolish, nor that his desire to be seeing his loved ones again be evil. Yet, I can be saying that animating the dead be unnatural, and it be terrifying. There be no way to be knowing if it be possible to be bringing his people back whole. But, even if it be true that he can be raising the dead, I willn’t be standing aside as he be making new dead in the process. Dredek be killing innocent people, regardless of species or race, and he be gaining more power by the day. He be killing those who be standing in his way, and that I be calling evil.

  “I be a proud member of the FireFalls Clan, of the Dwarven Realm, but that cannot be keeping me from being a proud resident of Archana. I be spending me life training me kin to be fighting, but what be the purpose if we cannot be using our skill in battle to be battling the evil that be raising up against Archana? Just because there be no soldiers at our door, no evil wizard in our realm, that be no justification to be turning our backs on others who be scared, suffering, and in danger. It be true that Dredek may never be turning his gaze upon the Dwarven Realm. It be true that this be not a dwarven war. But if the wrong side be winning, it be only a matter of time before we be regretting any decision we be making that could be making it otherwise. If we be turning our heads to the danger that be growing in Angmar, we be sending a message to Dredek, to others like him that we be not knowing of yet, and to Archana the whole. If it be coming to be that we be under attack by the magic that Dredek be capable of, or worse if that be possible, no people will be aiding us in our time of need. We need to be uniting as a realm, as a world, to be doing anything we can to be bringing this war to a successful end.

  “Ye may be thinking that the irua be deceptive and undeserving of our aid. We be trading little with the irua in the past, as they be not the honorable sort we be claiming to be. But if we be judging them based on the character they be showing in this war, we be wrong to be calling them the enemy. There be wicked men among the humans, as I be seeing for meself last year at Braya, but there be good men among them too—perhaps better men than we be if we be standing aside and letting the irua be massacred. The Aranthians be a small group of mighty men. They be many races, and they be led by one of the finest humans I ever be meeting. Osric be the first leader to be actively engaging in war on behalf of another race. It be true the Human Realm was attacked as well, but only because they be hosting the Ratification Ceremony for the peace treaty signing. Can ye men be sleeping soundly if ye refuse to act so honorably and so generously as Osric? Can ye be refusing to aid the irua in this time of undeserved brutality and slaughter, just because ye be not liking ’em? Is that who we be?” Machai paused for a moment to take in a few shaking heads and a few disapproving looks, attempting to measure the reactions of the nine men around him. He continued in the same measured and confident tone.

  “I be returning to me home to be seeking aid from me kin. I be asking Thenar to be sending a force to be joining Osric’s troops, the Aranthians. Thenar be refusing, and he be punishing me for what he be perceiving as betrayal. If he be truly believing that I be betraying me clan, I cannot be believing that we’d be standing here before ye. Thenar be granting the request to be having this gathering, but he be granting us only enough time to be arranging for yer arrival if I be speaking true in me claims about the evolution and discoveries in magic. And here we be. We be living in a time of great portent, when magic be far more complex and dangerous than we be realizing. Magic be a way of life, a part of our world that we be taking for granted, and if we be ignoring the men of Archana who be using incredible magic for great good, and for great destruction, we be scared, stupid, weak little men who be not deserving to be proud of our power and prowess in battle. Is that who we be? I be not believing that Thenar be thinking we be scared, or stupid, or weak. I be not thinking any of us be, especially the descendants of our nine clan founders. FireFalls be a mighty clan since it be established, because the men who be leading FireFalls be what a leader should be. Thenar be brave and intelligent and strong. He be acting in what he be believing to be the best interest of the clan. But Thenar still be wrong
!

  “I be needing yer help to be showing Archana that we be dwarves of great loyalty, honor, and pride. We be every bit as determined to be finding the person responsible for destroying the peace treaty signing, attacking an innocent realm, and dabbling in magic that be dark and dangerous. Soon, I be leaving, but I be hoping ye willn’t be letting me go alone. I be needing men with me who be brave and selfless, men who be skilled in fighting with and against magic, dwarves who be desiring a peaceful world beyond the borders of our realm. I know there be men like I be describing here in FireFalls, and I be forced to be leaving these warriors behind if ye be siding with Thenar in this gathering. I be sure that men like I be describing be here before me, among ye nine, and it be up to ye now to choose if it be ye.” Machai locked eyes with each of the nine gathering members for a moment, weighing the effect of his words on their emotions as best he could, and then he slowly bent and retrieved his sword from the floor near his feet.

  Thenar stared at Machai, conflicting emotions causing his eyes to narrow and his lips to pull tight in something between a smile and a grimace. His clenched jaw made it clear that whatever mixed feelings he might have about Machai and his speech, anger was still the most prominent. He tore his gaze from Machai and held his hand up to the crowd in welcome. Many voices rose up in support of the clan leader, but most of those gathered stared on, silently waiting to hear how Thenar would respond to Machai’s praise and accusations. Thenar turned to the nine men on the dais, avoiding looking back at Machai, and when he spoke his voice was clear and confident.

  “Machai’s words be full of passion, but they be lacking in something that be more important: reason. If we be running off to be fighting every battle that be breaking out between other races, we be ever marching to our deaths. I be the clan leader, and it be me job to be ensuring the safety and continuation of this mighty clan. FireFalls be not a clan of thugs and mercenaries. We be not a clan fueled by the anger of humans or the fear of foreign feuds. We be not a clan who be trembling at fancy magic spells or distant necromancy. And we be having no reason to be fearing that this Dredek feller be knocking at our door.” Thenar paced back and forth within the ring of dwarves, projecting his voice to address the nine members of the gathering as well as those who were watching from the lower floor. “But, if he be standing before the door of FireFalls, will we be trembling then? Will we be quaking before his rotting kin? Will we be hiding in our homes if he be casting wicked magic at our walls? Nay! If he be foolish enough to be threatening our home and our families, then me brothers, then we will be crushing his skull in our armored fists and be grinding his bones under our boot heels.” A few of the onlookers cheered, but they were quickly silenced by the discouraging looks cast their way by Kablis and his companions.