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

by Jack D. Albrecht Jr.

  “How are the new walls, anyway?” Toby looked to Staut for an answer.

  “Uh…” He adjusted his glasses. “The walls were finished three days ago, sir.”

  “Great!” Toby clapped his hands. “Yessip, I think we can do something to help speed things along, if you could help me?” He smiled.

  “I am at your service, of course.” Yessip bowed his best seated bow.

  “I hear that there are still many positions that need to be filled in Stanton,” Toby prompted.

  “Yes, sir. With all the help lost in the palace collapse, plus the battle against the Kallegian, it’s understandable that we haven’t been able to replace the ones who were lost.” The leader of the Trade Guild had his hands in many different businesses. He knew more about the business situation in Stanton than any other man.

  “So, we have new walls and few to man them. And we have many merchants in search of help, with many positions yet to be filled in the palace. Then, we have hundreds flocking to our walls on a daily basis with no work. Why is it that all we can think about is the trouble that has been caused by these people, and have taken no notice of the aid they could bring to us?” Toby leaned forward in his chair.

  “The walls were meant to keep them out. How could we let them in when we built the walls to keep them out?” Staut stuttered.

  “We built the wall to keep out armies, like the Kallegian, not poor folks left behind by a sadistic leader.” Kenneth laughed.

  “But…” Nervously, out of habit, Staut looked to his books as he searched for something to say.

  “Yessip.” Toby turned his attention away. “In two days we will be holding a welcoming party for those who have turned to Stanton for a new home. See to it the market district is prepared to welcome them. Have the merchants that need help prepare. If we claim to be on the side of right, we need to be doing right by those that are left in the cold by those doing wrong.”

  “Of course, it will be done.” Yessip nodded respectfully.

  “I am sure there are many among those fleeing Rowain who have gold as well. Inviting them to join us could help to bolster our already strained economy.” Staut looked up from his books expectantly.

  “And the more appealing we can make Stanton appear, the better our chances to be the place they stay.” Toby looked at him approvingly. “So if we can find any room to offer the markets some support, it could go a long way toward securing our town as their new home.” He motioned for the two to work together.

  “But what about our homes? We have been robbed on many occasions! Are we supposed to look the other way?” A large man stood at the front of the crowd with a child at his side. His homespun clothing and hearty build suggested he was a farmer.

  “Kenneth, could you set a few Vigiles outside the walls to help our farms stay safe until we get things sorted? Maybe see if you could get a few volunteers.” Toby looked to Kenneth at his left. Though those who inhabited Stanton knew that the Aranthians dwelled in their town, Toby knew that making the Aranthians a part of daily life could set a dangerous precedent, so he kept the implied favor between the two of them.

  “I think I could spare a few men, and I am sure our mutual friend would be willing to give us all the help we need until I can train the new volunteers.” He knew what Toby was indicating when he asked for volunteers, and it wasn’t the town population he wanted working with the Vigile troops.

  “Good.” Toby nodded. “Now, I am sure some of you”—he looked back at the farmer—“could find suitable aid and the laborers you need from those outside the walls? You shouldn’t have to put your children to work until they are finished with classes.”

  “I suppose I could use some help. I’ve been looking at purchasing more land. I’ve just been waiting until more crops were needed.” He looked down at his son. “And I suppose he could put more effort into his schooling.”

  “Good, then it is settled. We will do what we can for the next couple days to negate the threat they bring, and then we will attempt to have many of them become a part of us. We can manage the threats that come afterward at that time.” Toby stood up, signaling the guards to begin ushering the people out of the room.

  The room’s inhabitants began to funnel out the door at the back. The hains stepped down from the dais to join the others as Toby and Kenneth stepped to the side to confer.

  “Do you plan to see Osric soon?” Toby stepped close and whispered softly.

  “As soon as I leave this room. I’ll try to get as many Aranthians as I can to help us. I am certain I can get a couple dozen of their finest for the next few days. They aren’t planning anything sooner than that, as far as I know,” Kenneth replied.

  “That sounds great, but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind me accompanying you—there is a rather large favor I wish to ask of Osric, and I don’t want to have it delivered as a message.

  * * *

  “I had him trusted early the morning before me and Serha…” Aridis shook, still unable to speak of the events that had happened. The old man looked shrunken and haggard from a week of drug-aided sleep and too little food. He wrapped his hands around his warm mug of rulha, but he hadn’t taken a single drink. The dining hall in the Aranthian headquarters buzzed with quiet conversations, and Aridis struggled to maintain his focus on the question that Osric had asked. He had been struggling with most everything lately, but he silently chastised himself. Aridis knew that for events to unfold in the desired direction he must continue on his path, and if Serha had still been there, she would have insisted that he put his best foot forward. It took too much out of him to even discuss the particulars that had taken place before her death. Eight days had been little time to mourn, but his body had recovered so it was time to get back to work. Luckily, everyone understood the direction his statement was heading in, and Osric gracefully saved him from having to hear himself speak of it again.

  “And Pendres, you believe, has information that could help us in defeating Dredek?” he asked, casting a quick glance at the hermit across the table.

  After taking a few moments to gather his thoughts, Aridis said, “I believe he can give us a great deal more than just information.” His answer was slow to the point of timid, and his old bones cracked as he squeezed his hands into fists. Serha’s face was still fresh in his memory. Her large, watery eyes still haunted him as he remembered their last stroll into the woods outside Stanton. Focusing on the here and now was difficult, but somehow he managed it.

  “I still don’t understand what he thinks I can do, or if I will truly stay for long enough to offer my aid, but some of the words he said to me have me curious enough to see if what he says holds promise.” Pendres folded his arms across his chest—a defensive gesture, but harmless to those around him. His posture was a way to comfort himself in the presence of uncertainty; even Aridis could sense that without the Empath gift.

  “And I’m at a loss as to how you could have been trusted in if you have no interest in helping us,” Osric stated without malice. His implied question was sincere; he was genuinely curious.

  “I have no interest in betraying anyone, so long as you are honorable in intent. Everything I have seen while I have been here suggests that you are all honorable, good people. My only issue is with your conflict—battle has done nothing but bring me misery and a very long life.” His eyes were distant as he spoke. “A very long life to look forward to, and too many things haunt a mind when one is alone for that long.”

  “The Trust can attest to the fact that he would not betray us in any foreseeable situation. But I’ve brought him to you to attempt to persuade him to join our cause. I thought if you could tell him of what we have managed to accomplish, as well as what we are up against, he might see why it is so important for him to help us.” Aridis’s lip shook. It went nearly unnoticed, but almost nothing got by Osric these days. “If you could just start with the time you spent with the eagles, I believe that is far enough back to be useful.

  “Okay.�
� Osric shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “After the palace was attacked, we pursued the irua that left Stanton, thinking they were the ones responsible. While en route, the dragon we chose for transportation was mistakenly attacked by a young eagle.”

  “Mistakenly?” Pendres leaned in with a questioning gaze.

  “Yes,” Osric replied. “Eagles teach their young not to attack walkers.” He looked up and sighed. “Walkers is the term they use for all land animals. They teach them to avoid hunting us because they want to avoid the tradition behind the hunt.”

  “Why would they avoid it?” Pendres asked.

  “Well.” Osric’s brow creased. “They didn’t tell us, but from what we witnessed, the only meat they eat is fish. I’m assuming they don’t want to track down someone’s loved ones after the hunt is complete.” He winced and turned to Aridis with an apologetic expression. “Anyway,” he continued, “we were brought to the cliffs where they live while we waited for Greyback to heal.”

  “Greyback was the dragon’s name?” Pendres inclined his head questioningly.

  “Yes.” Osric nodded. “While we were there, the eagles told us about how wands were invented and about how the dragons were enslaved shortly after the caldereth were wiped out.”

  Pendres looked down at his hands with a mournful cast. Osric looked the hermit over. There was a great deal of regret in Pendres’s outward shift. Aridis wondered if something in the story touched at some point in his past life, and he felt that Osric had the same thought.

  “At that time,” Osric continued, “it was decided that freeing the dragons would do more for the cause of avoiding a war than continuing to the Irua Realm. The irua were just too far ahead of us, and we had to wait for Greyback to heal after the eagle attacked us and wounded her.

  “Through a great deal of planning, even more luck, the timely intervention of the eagles, and some courage from an enslaved race of dragons, we managed to free them from their captors.” Osric shook his head slowly, remembering the day. “After that, we returned home to try to make sense of everything. We needed to get our bearings and figure out what to do next. Unfortunately, the Kallegian took an interest in Stanton due to our investigation.” He drew in a long, slow breath as he related the story.

  “The Kallegian took interest in you and you survived?” Pendres narrowed his eyes and his lips pressed close with distaste. He didn’t believe what he was being told, and this was obvious to anyone close enough to witness his gaze.

  “Oh, yeah.” Osric turned his hands out to ward off any argument, showing that he understood the lack of acceptance. “But while they patrolled our streets, trying to find me”—one hand pointed back at himself—“Kenneth and I had been captured by Dredek and his men in Rowain.”

  “Dredek?” Pendres stiffened in his chair. “His name was Dredek?”

  Osric looked up at the interruption. “Yes. Why?”

  Aridis leaned forward, listening to the exchange. Something about the way Pendres held himself told him that there must be a connection between the two men. Though, why the name meant something to him was unclear.

  “It’s just”—Pendres shrugged—“Dredek was a common caldereth name.” He looked suspiciously at Aridis.

  “That’s because he’s a caldereth.” Osric joined Pendres in questioning Aridis. “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him nothing. I left everything for you to reveal.” Aridis looked innocently between the two large men.

  “Well, that’s one of the things we learned about him in Rowain. I don’t know how he survived, but somehow he has modified his appearance enough to appear human.” Osric turned his attention back to the hermit. “Well, at least he is close enough in appearance to human to fool anyone who hasn’t seen a caldereth. But he hasn’t only modified his appearance; he has taken gifts from the living to give himself more power, all in an attempt to bring the caldereth back from the dead.”

  Pendres’s eyes went wide and traced the grain in the table. He raised his right hand to his mouth and stroked the braid along the side of his blond beard.

  Osric continued with a casual but somewhat cautious tone as he gazed across the table at the newcomer. “Since then, we defeated the Kallegian and very nearly stopped Dredek from capturing Angmar.”

  “A caldereth captured Angmar?” Pendres stood up with such gusto that his chair slid backwards, nearly tipping over when it caught the edge of the stone floor. He held a panicked expression as he breathed rapidly, looking to Osric for confirmation. There was genuine despair in every aspect of his stance. Pendres glared over at Aridis. “Your dragon told me the Turgent took the city.”

  Before Osric could confirm Pendres’s fears, Gus burst through the door, followed by a very flustered-looking Eublin. Gus pointed a furry paw at Pendres, but his shouting was directed at Aridis.

  “This guy can’t be killed?! You’re telling me we have been wracking our brains and training hundreds of men to die in the deserts of the Irua Realm and this guy can’t die? Why don’t we just send him over there to take on the entire army and wipe out Dredek for us? All our problems can be solved with one man, and you are in here sipping on your mugs and swapping stories!”

  Eublin shuffled in, nearly bowing and alternating between adjusting his spectacles and tugging on his tunic. “Please note that I have no intention of requesting any such thing of our guest. Gus is misconstruing everything that I said. I take no credit for his assumptions about Pendres, nor for his terribly rude and misguided outburst.”

  “By the strands, you old bookworm! You said this guy can’t be killed. How could I possibly misconstrue that?” Gus screamed at him.

  “You may have heard the words, but you are certainly misunderstanding their meaning,” Aridis interrupted Gus’s rant. “It is not that he cannot be killed; it is that he cannot die until the war is over.”

  “Yes, because there is so much difference between those two statements. Everything is clear now.” Gus’s sarcasm impressed no one.

  “A great deal of difference, actually. Killing is an action that you engage in; being killed is that action taken against you. Dying is a finality, but not something that can be inflicted upon you. Would you ask Pendres to be killed, over and over, simply for his lack of dying?” Aridis asked, his voice gruff and strained by the threat of tears. Speaking of death was no easier just because the reference was to someone other than Serha.

  Gus glanced over at Pendres a bit sheepishly. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

  “That’s because you didn’t consider the burdensome implications of such a supposed gift. I did not bring Pendres here to ask him to suffer for us. I brought him here because he is the only man alive who is likely to understand why Dredek is seeking the Well of Strands, and maybe even how he intends to use it to raise his people. Maybe, if you stop yelling for a moment and listen, you will learn something too.”

  “The rat has a point.” Everyone in the room turned to Pendres in surprise, though Gus’s annoyance at the term rat was more apparent in his expression than his shock at being scolding by Aridis. “Maybe I should just go kill Dredek before he accomplishes his goal.” Pendres was serious; the Empath ability was enough to convince Osric of that, but that didn’t explain how he thought he might accomplish it.

  “Is it true that you cannot be killed?” Osric’s voice was low and hesitant.

  “It is true that I have taken many fatal injuries in my very long lifetime. I should have died, I have died many times, but I didn’t die. Aridis seems to think he understands why.” Pendres paused, but it was clear he wanted to say more. “I am just as susceptible to injury as any other man, though I am better than most at avoiding it. I feel every ache and pain, every blade and arrow tip, every tooth and claw of the beast as it tears into my flesh. As Aridis says, I can be killed, I just don’t die.”

  “In that case, I will not send you to Angmar to suffer the blows that Dredek will surely deliver. To answer your earlier question, Dredek has also us
urped the Turgency of the Human Realm. The whole city of Angmar is overrun by the his army, by great hulking beasts that tunnel through sand and stone like garden worms and kill indiscriminately like paun, and by Dredek’s very advanced and effective magic. I wish I didn’t have to send anyone back there, but I certainly won’t send only one man.” Osric watched Pendres, using his abilities to determine the effects of his words. Though the recluse from a distant land seemed little impressed by the danger, the mention of the sand creatures had given him pause, and Pendres’s level of respect for Osric increased significantly by the end of his little speech. Osric glanced away, feeling his cheeks burn slightly, as if he had overheard his own praises while using his gifts to spy on a private conversation. He needed to know if he could trust Pendres, but he didn’t think he would ever be comfortable using his abilities to pry into the minds and hearts of others.

  “I admire your commitment to your people, and your resolution to not put any one person in harm’s way as a means to an end, but I fear you may not be able to make the hard calls necessary to win a war,” Pendres said. “Still, I believe it will be worthwhile to aid you in your mission. Perhaps, if Aridis is correct, it will bring me some peace as well.”

  “It seems I will be bringing about your death either way. It is not a position I take lightly,” Osric said, and Pendres nodded once in acknowledgment of the concern for his life. “Will you tell us what you know about the wells?”

  Pendres thought back to his conversation with Aridis when he had first arrived in Stanton, about the spell that was cast upon him and his painful memories of who had likely cast it. “It is quite possible that the wells are why I am still here to speak with you today.” He glanced over at Aridis. “No one could have cast the spell you spoke of without the aid of the well’s power. But it was not the well in Angmar that she used.” Memories haunted his eyes.