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

by Jack D. Albrecht Jr.

  “Take me to the prisoners.” Dredek glared at his servant, but he stood up straight and motioned for Jalyn to lead the way.

  They left the farm behind as the cold, dark halls of Angmar greeted him. They were a poor trade for the lush farm, but it did wonders for refocusing his thoughts. He already knew that the young woman had the strands needed to grant him access to the well, but whether she knew where it was, or how to enter it, he did not know. He was determined to find the answers to his questions, and when he was done distilling the deadman’s stalk, he would be ready to bring life to the bones of his people.

  Soldiers moved through the halls carrying baskets of food and treasures they had found in several small stashes throughout Angmar. They had yet to find a site that could be considered the city’s coffers, and searching for gold, food, and a few small groups that had failed to escape the city consumed most of their time. Dredek made sure the army felt appreciated for the time being. He didn’t need to have armed men and women attempting to take power at a time when he was in no condition to do anything other than flee, and the treasure they found was the reward for all of their efforts.

  The halls didn’t smell nearly as good as the gardens and farms, and each time they turned down a new path the smells changed. He could almost tell what task had been done on each stretch of the way to the holding chambers. One smelled of heat and metal, obviously a forge. Some rooms smelled of spices and alcohol, no doubt the meadery. Another room smelled of linen and lye, so it must be a laundry. But the halls smelled of damp clay and mildew, which lent to the constant headache Dredek had.

  Jalyn opened a door to yet another dimly lit hall, but this one ended at a set of bars. All three of their new prisoners were inside the first cell, but the passageway split off to each side, where more cells were filled with captives taken at an earlier time.

  “Where is our translator?” Dredek turned in a slow circle, unsatisfied with the promptness of his help.

  “I was told that he was here. I’ll check with the men outside the door and see.” Jalyn stepped toward the door.

  “No need, sir. Both of the gentlemen in the cell speak Common.” The guard behind him spoke nervously. “Only the girl doesn’t.”

  “We’ve been chatting with our captors since you put us in here.” The eldest male looked up at Dredek with resignation.

  “I wish someone would have informed me of this revelation. This news may have changed things.” He shot a sharp look at Jalyn. “I think you can find the way out, don’t you?”

  Jalyn looked up with wide, terrified eyes. “I didn’t know. Nobody gave me this information.”

  Dredek held his gazed steady. “You are well versed in excuses, Jalyn. But right now you should be gaining some experience in retreat, or this man’s punishment will be yours.” The guard dropped to the ground without a sound, blood pouring from his nose and mouth.

  Quickly, the hall was vacated, leaving Dredek alone to get the answer he needed. He turned to the older man and spoke. “May I ask what your name is?”

  “My name is Freyn. Please, let my children go. I will give you anything you want.” He stood at the cell door. His words were pleading, but there was nothing but strength in his voice.

  Dredek paced in front of the cell, meeting the man’s eyes. “My name is Dredek. And what names were given to your children?” He motioned to the boy and girl at the back of the cell with his wand.

  “Keth, my eldest son, and Visah, my only daughter.” Freyn narrowed his brow and watched Dredek carefully.

  “And how is it that two of you speak Common, but the last of you doesn’t?” Dredek would much rather have been getting answers directly from the girl. He was suspicious of the fact that she couldn’t speak Common. It seemed that most of the irua they had encountered could speak the widely utilized language quite well.

  “Some families are called upon to give a child to serve with the Proferre They are permitted to spend time with their families, but they spend most of their lives with the sect. Outsiders are not permitted to speak to them, so there is no need to teach them Common.”

  “They take your young away from you? Sounds like cruelty to take a child from her parents. Are there other examples of cruelty among the irua?”

  “We were honored to be chosen. Very few are given the opportunity to serve. The Proferre is our highest calling. There is no cruelty involved in becoming a Guardian.” There was great sincerity in Freyn’s voice.

  “And how does one access the Well of Strands?” Dredek leveled his wand at the young boy. “Just to make sure you give me the answers I need, in case you lie to me, or attempt to delay me.”

  The boy threw himself against the back of the cell, screaming out in pain, and then fell to the ground, shivering. His father and sister ran to his side, concern evident on their faces. The rise and fall of the boy’s chest was their only comfort, but his fear-filled face and rapid breathing brought tension to the cell.

  “Why?” The father’s pleading tone was sorrowful. “Why would you do that? I’ll give you anything you ask. Please, just leave my children out of this!”

  “I need to make sure you realize how serious a situation you have found yourself in.” Dredek didn’t like this sort of activity, but it was the only way to make sure he got answers quickly. “It will hurt more next time.”

  “Please, don’t hurt either of them. I will ask her.” Freyn turned to his daughter, speaking quickly in the language native to the irua. “Nan wey, chulenek va ya glen?”

  She looked hesitantly away from her father, and then to Keth, and back again before she answered. “Nan wey chulenek va ya e sas ah yey va garspa. Ta klet chulenek aya, solo.”

  “She says the well can only be accessed if you have what is needed. You can’t access it on your own.”

  “Yes, I know about the extra strand. I need to know how to enter the well since I have already located someone with the strand.” Dredek nodded at the girl, and then looked back at Freyn. He waved his wand in the direction of Keth, but he cast no spell. “Ask her.”

  “Nan wey, yey keb sas et leh trabis?” He looked at his daughter with stern, pleading eyes.

  “Sas ness skib nan etch em nan flet es nan bate. Aya lep neskin.” Visah shrugged nervously.

  “You have to write the runes on the wall and an opening will appear.” Freyn spoke very clearly, but his speech was rushed—almost panicked. His gaze kept sweeping to his children and then back to Dredek. He stood between the wand and his son with his chest puffed out.

  “And only one with what is needed can write the rune?” It was a cold voice that Dredek chose to elicit replies. He couldn’t risk his prisoners guessing how much he dreaded having to hurt the child to get what he wanted.

  “Nan sas ah yey va garspa ness skib nan etch?” Freyn asked Visah, unsure himself of how it worked as he had never trained with the sect that protected the well.

  “Peg,” Visah answered.

  “Yes.” Freyn turned back quickly to face Dredek.

  “Good job, father. Now tell your daughter to take me to the well and open the door. Tell her to take me by the most direct route or I will kill her father and her brother.” Dredek locked gazes with Visah and he donned a most serious expression, turning the wand toward Freyn. “You will tell me exactly what she says, or I will kill her and find myself another of the well guardians. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand.” Freyn trembled almost imperceptibly and pointed at their captor as he spoke to his daughter. “Voy Dredek leh nan wey iz neskin aya.” He locked a hateful gaze on Dredek. “Leh nan mair yestin o ta lep brusein es saftin crag sen.”

  “Sen klet, aya va shamin.” Visah shook her head slowly, tears streaming down her scared face.

  “She says it is forbidden.” Freyn repeated her words for Dredek in Common between clenched teeth.

  “Len ness!” Keth shouted at Visah, desperation in his voice.

  “Aya va shamin!” she yelled back at him.

  �
��Ta lep brusein se!” he shouted at his sister again.

  “Enough!” Freyn shouted at his son. Both siblings shrank back and looked up at their father.

  “What are they going on about?” Dredek stepped closer to the cell. “And remember to be honest.” He flicked his wand as a reminder. Keth curled into a ball, closing his eyes in anticipation of pain.

  “She says that giving you the information is forbidden. He says that she has to give you the information or you will kill him.” Freyn held his hands up in surrender. “Please, wait! I can talk her into it!”

  “I’ve already told you that I will not tolerate delay.” He pointed his wand back at the boy. The girl screamed

  “No!” The father moved in front of the wand. “Please, just give me a chance to reason with her. There is no need for this!” Both of the younger irua wept in opposite corners of the cell.

  “I am running out of patience,” Dredek said with his jaw clenched. The shouting was wearing at his nerves. “Make it quick!”

  “Yes. I understand” Freyn backed away and knelt, ready to leap between Dredek’s wand and his daughter and spoke in a soothing, yet pleading, voice. “Visah, len ness voy Dredek leh nan wey iz neskin aya. Brey, Es goya essen vat. Es saftin essen vat. Sen es vat. Brey!”

  “I’m growing tired of this. I need to know what you’re saying!” Sparks hit the wall at the back of the cell. Dredek wasn’t proud of it, but his patience had nearly run out. He almost allowed himself to kill the boy, which made his hand shake perceptibly.

  “I told her she must help you. I said that her family needs her to. Her brother needs her to, and I need her to.” Tears were streaming down the father’s face as he held his daughter’s hands. “Visah, brey. Brey.”

  “What is brey?” Dredek lifted his chin.

  “Brey means please.” His large hands reached up and caressed his daughter’s head as she buried her face in his chest. Her long strawberry-blonde hair hid her pale, tear-streaked face from view and Freyn’s hand moved gently across it. He spoke in a whisper, over and over again, saying, “Brey Visah, brey.”

  The sight of the family huddled together for comfort in a time of danger was hard for Dredek to watch. Had his mate comforted his sons on their last day? Had Aeya spoken soft lies to dull their fear in the dark winter night? Did they see the army coming, or did they die asleep in their beds? Dredek didn’t know, and now he was the one bringing the fear. But it must be done; there was no other way to bring them back. He shook himself out of his daze as Visah began to nod in agreement with her father’s plea.

  “Peg, es ness.” She pulled away from Freyn’s embrace. Her lips quivered when she looked to her captor. But there was something in her eyes, something primal that allowed her to gain some courage.

  Dredek wasn’t entirely sure what she had said, but he knew from the Portentist gift that she would show him the way. “Good.” He nodded. “Now, I hope you can understand that I can’t have you conscious when we open the door. I won’t kill you, you have my word.” He had already been forced to kill too many men to bring about his plans.

  He slipped a small vial from his satchel and held it out for the father to take. “It will make you sleep, but no harm will come to you or your children. I swear it.” His voice was softer than he had intended and Freyn looked at him, confused. “Give it to the boy, first, but no more than two drops—one, if you can manage it. He will fall asleep before he finishes swallowing it.”

  Freyn unstoppered the glass and smelled the contents with a wary eye. He tipped it back on the cork as the boy lay down on his back. They spoke light words of comfort, assuring Visah that they would be okay until she returned. Then the father turned the wet cork over and watched carefully until a single drop landed in Keth’s mouth.

  True to the promise, the boy fell asleep without another movement. Freyn watched his chest rise and fall until he was satisfied his son was safe. Then, rewetting the cork, he asked, “Why?”

  “Why?” Dredek searched for a meaning to the question.

  “Why threaten our lives, only to pay in kindness when you have what you need?” Pausing with the cork upturned in his hand, Freyn looked up with earnest eyes.

  “No kindness was paid to my family at their end.” Dredek looked him in the eye. “But, now they will live again.”

  Freyn looked back with wide eyes. A mix of awe and fear traced the rough face. He leaned back against the wall, lifting the cork. “I wish you luck. Please, if you succeed, show us mercy again.” He touched the cork to his tongue and went limp.

  “When I am finished…” Dredek bowed his head and took a deep breath. “I’ve made no plans for myself on that day.”

  The chamber was silent in spite of coughs, chains, and whispered words from the other cells. He had what he needed, and it was a disappointment. Dredek had expected to be reveling in his achievements, but instead it had brought back memories of loss and pain. He stood there in silence, watching Visah comfort her sleeping family. All he could do was wish he had been with Aeya, Chehl, and Tweggan, to offer them comfort on the day they were killed. He wished he could have died with them.

  After a suitable few moments of punishing memories, Dredek looked up to see Visah standing at the door, ready to leave. He looked around the chamber and remembered that he had the room vacated and no guard was left to open the door. Taking a deep breath, he stood up straight and prepared himself to look the part of a leader again.

  “Guards!” The door opened and light streamed into the room. “Bring the girl.” Dredek turned and walked slowly to the door. Keys rattled in the lock, and rusty hinges squealed as the door to the cell opened. Visah cried out from rough treatment and he turned back to the men.

  “No!” When he faced Aeya again, he wanted her to be able to recognize him. Before all this, he had been a gentleman. “You will treat her as a guest or I’ll see to it you don’t make it home to enjoy your gold.”

  The men gently motioned for Visah to follow. Dredek felt some small amount of pride in how quickly they changed tactics. He thought he saw the guard on the left offer an arm to Visah as an escort, but he had then decided against it and withdrew the arm.

  “Get some lights up in the cells. Start cleaning and feeding the prisoners better. We’re not animals!” He smiled as they passed by him, Visah leading the way to the well.

  17 — Homefront

  Toby looked out at the room. He hadn’t expected there to be as many gathered in the room as there was. This was the first official assembly in the newly restored palace since the peace treaty ratification that was attacked over a year earlier. Voices echoed off of the stone walls; they were all passionate about the issues before them, and they were worried. Kenneth walked down the center of the room in his Vigile dress uniform, climbed the stairs of the raised dais, and took a seat at the far right of the table.

  Quickly surveying the room, Toby noticed all five of his hains, his main advisors, were present: Desmond, Kirkus, Megan, Staut, and Trevan. In addition, the leader of the trade guild, Yessip, had taken time out of his very busy day to join the meeting. Then, of course, Kenneth was in attendance. And these were only the ones who could fit at the lead table.

  Toby stood up, holding his hands out to silence the crowd. Only a few of the gatherers noticed the gesture, but they began to spread the word and conversations started to dwindle from a roar to a whisper. It didn’t take long before he had the attention of everybody in the room.

  “We all know why we’re here. So, why don’t we start this with a summation from our hain of treasury. Staut, please take the floor.” Toby bowed and motioned him to step to the front of the table, then the ryhain sat back down. Staut stepped to the opposite side of the table, walked to center stage, and offered his hand to Toby, showing respect. Toby took his hand and bowed back, signaling for him to speak.

  “Rowain’s refugees have caused a significant strain to our already limited coffers.” Staut opened the ledger he carried under his right arm.


  “My home has been broken into three times!” A tall, skinny man stood up and shouted from the back of the room.

  “I’ve got forty people sleeping in my fields each night. They’ve nearly eaten my entire crop of cabbage!” A woman stood up at the front of the room.

  “Two of my horses are missing!”

  “They’ve taken over my barn!”

  “They tore apart two of my carts and are using them to build camp fires!”

  The room erupted with a cacophony of voices. Who had made the complaints and what wrongs had been done were lost in the commotion. Otherwise kind and reasonable individuals were now shouting and shoving each other in an attempt to be heard. The Vigile guards at the doors looked nervously at each other and then towards Kenneth, who signaled for them to calm their nerves.

  “Please, please!” Toby stood up, addressing the crowd. “We can’t accomplish anything if we conduct ourselves in this manner!” Slowly, the volume began to decline until the Stanton citizens looked up at the table with concerned expressions.

  “Hundreds flock to Stanton each day. Not only to our walls, but to other cities as well. They flee Rowain in an attempt to find new homes and safety. We see them. Not all bring mischief in their wake. Most are honest, hard-working families.” Toby leaned on the table, earnestly speaking with the assembly.

  “I need twenty-five new Vigile recruits, minimum, just to begin keeping peace in Stanton.” Kenneth spoke up from his seat at the end. “I’ll take you, if you want to join,” he said, looking out at the crowd.

  “Look, I realize that the resources of the city are stretched thin, and all of your concerns are valid. While I can’t promise that there will be no more trouble from the refugees, I can assure you that I will find a way to keep our city safe and secure. Please.” Toby gazed out at the assembled expressions of fear and anger. “Continue to welcome these people with the grace and generosity that has brought them here in the first place. The guard will be reinforced, and we will come through this time stronger if we stick together and keep our trust in others.” Toby watched as his words lent a small measure of calm to the crowd. Some even smiled at the reminder that it was their good-hearted nature that made the outcast from Rowain seek solace in Stanton. He looked over to Kenneth and an idea struck him.