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

by Jack D. Albrecht Jr.

  “What was it you said?” Osric wasn’t as embarrassed as he would have been a short time ago, but he had missed the beginning of the conversation.

  “I said he snipped strands off of the stuff he got from Archana and joined them in a circle. Then, in a stunning display of ingenuity, he inflated them by means I have yet to glean, creating loops of independently adjusting resistance to flow. Add that to what we know of the magics contained by what the wand took from Bridget’s amulet and you have a wand that can channel as much magic as your sword, plus a sword wand that bestows the power it takes from those around you on you whilst simultaneously giving those powers to everyone around you. The fact that Pebble mimicked the wand so completely is just astounding. Albeit, without the addition of the magical gifts, but still an amazing feat of ingenuity!”

  The kitchen erupted into motion and the two of them looked up as David, James’s most trusted kitchen attendant, waved his hands frantically and issued orders as a man leaned in and spoke in his ear. Osric laughed quietly as he watched the chaotic scene, noting how well the noise-containment spell worked on the kitchen to prevent shouting from reaching the diners. The busy scene was, no doubt, in preparation of dinner service. Throughout the kitchen, the cooks began firing burners and placing pans on the flames. It was a frantic display of efficiency, and Osric enjoyed the show, as he hadn’t been in the dining hall at this time of day in a long time. He spent a brief moment appreciating how well James ran his kitchen, and then he turned back to his conversation with Gus.

  “It’s a potent combination,” Osric echoed, knowing that the truth behind all that he had experienced in the last year was due to his sword having been crafted into a wand by the unicorn at the Ratification Ceremony. He still wondered why they had chosen him, and why that moment to do it. At least the unicorns’ reticence to allow him anywhere near them made sense, considering the accident that killed Willam. He had needed the time to let the gifts mature naturally, rather than have the gifts instantaneously mature and kill him, and too many too fast may have yielded the same result. “Do you know why he didn’t make them with the same magic that is in the sword’s rings?”

  “Not entirely, but I’ll have to speak to the amulet and charm makers and see if they can offer some insight into that.” Gus was surprisingly open to the thought of consulting with the rival users of his innate ability.

  “I never thought I would see a day where you were comfortable with the idea of a sword wand. You tend to be less than enthusiastic about anything other than a stick wand.” In spite of Osric’s worried mind, this small harassment of Gus brought a smile to his face.

  “Well, yes. If I had chosen the medium it would have been a stick, but I’ve come to realize that I have been far too closed-minded about a lot of things. It’s a bad habit and far too much a part of the Wand-Maker trade.” He shrugged off the question easily and smiled back at Osric.

  “I have to admit, it is strange to talk to you so openly. Without your bad attitude, I feel like I am talking to a stranger, rather than someone I’ve gotten to know over the last year.”

  “And I feel like I am a new man.” Gus laughed lightly before concern furrowed his brow. “But you used to be a carefree man with an open, though sometimes overeager, mind. Though it caused me much frustration at that time, it was many of those traits that brought about the most significant evolution in magic since the wand was invented. Now, even our culture seems to be evolving into something better as a result. Eublin has a great deal of support for changes in the way the hunt is performed. None of that would have happened if it weren’t for you.”

  “And your point is?” Osric felt a bit uncomfortable being reminded of how foolish he had been at the beginning of their adventure, but Gus seemed genuine in his query.

  “What happened to that man?” he replied.

  “People started dying as a result of my actions and discoveries.” Osric stared down at his hands, guilt squeezing his throat around the words.

  “But death happens all around us, everyday. Many more would be dead if you hadn’t been the man you were then. It’s not all bad either. Look at all the advances we’re making in the healing arts. The strand-sight device could lead minds better suited to healing to finding different ways to cure many of Archana’s deadlier diseases. The uses could be enumerable.” Gus’s tone was both rational and reasonable. There was no hint of flattery or blame in his voice.

  “It’s different when the deaths are directly related to what I have exposed them to. Now, I have most of our men committed to actions outside of our main objective with no idea how I am going to get enough men to replace them. And even if I could replace them, Dredek is going to complete his task long before I could get the men trained in the new magics, let alone dual wielding.” Osric spoke in an emotionless monotone.

  “Then why don’t we focus on the things we can control?” The look on Gus’s face suggested he had an idea.

  “What can we control?” Osric leaned forward, his interest piqued.

  “Well, let’s look at the first prophecy we received on the dragon platform. What was the first line of that prophecy?” Gus arched an eyebrow.

  “Victory cannot be achieved until the wand that is not a wand is known by all on their path? What can we do about that? We already know the wand.”

  “But do we? I don’t think the prophecy is telling us that we need to know what the wand is; I think it’s telling us we need to have all of us use it, touch it, hold it and have those powers shared by all Aranthians. We need to know it. If the Aranthians are going to be what we want them to be, then we can’t let only a few of us hold your level of power.” Gus turned his paws over in a pleading gesture.

  “No. Absolutely not.” Osric was quick to his reply.

  “Why not? I’ve seen you change the outcome of a prophecy, but you’ve never ignored it altogether.” The prairie dog’s reasonable tone continued.

  “This sword killed a man because he accidentally cut his friend’s hand. You want me to put it in the hands of more, only to lose them in foolish accidents?”

  “Yes. Only now it will be different because we will all know the risks involved.” Gus attempted to calm Osric’s reaction, miming surrender by raising his paws.

  “And who should we give it to first? Maybe Pebble, or Macgowan? Surely we could live without them if an accident occurred. Perhaps we should give it to Eublin so you have one less person to argue with? I’m certainly not giving it to Bridgett or Kenneth. Or here, I have an idea.” Osric took Legati out of the scabbard and laid it on the table. “Here, you can have it. That will be one less frustration to deal with on a daily basis, should something happen to you.”

  Osric’s hostility was countered by a sympathetic tilt of the head from Gus. “Now, I have been a terrific pain in your backside for over a year, so I’ll ignore that last part. But you did say something that bears a bit more consideration.”

  The lack of confrontation gave Osric pause. It wasn’t like Gus to back away from a fight, and the fact that he had skillfully sidestepped several opportunities was eye-opening. Osric sat back for a moment and let the words settle in his mind. He wasn’t ready to yield, just yet, but maybe he could at least listen to the ideas rather than immediately resist them out of habit.

  “We both know that Kenneth is farther along in inheriting gifts than anyone else, so I propose you let him have it for a few days. I am positive he would be safe since most of your gifts are already growing naturally inside him. Then I think he should train with us every morning, and the sword should remain within our grounds at all times. If and when we need it to be used in battle, you carry it as always.”

  “Why would we leave it here?”

  “Well, not only would it be easier to control the danger you are rightfully concerned about, but there is another benefit to leaving it in the hands of someone here.” He motioned for Osric to look at the wand with the Wand-Maker gift before he continued.

  “These strands right
here. They dance to and fro, stealing small amounts of the magic in our gifts and grafting them onto the wand. But here you can see the yellow wisps that keep reaching out from the third ring of the wand and then swatting back at the pommel? These are the ones responsible for giving gifts to those around you. Keeping the sword within our boundaries would help us to expose even more minds to the possibilities you could potentially unlock. You were a Vigile, and look at the evolution in magic you inspired. Just think what could be done by a healer, a chemist, an armorer, a gardener, or even a chef!” Gus was getting excited as he spoke, and some of that excitement had managed to seep into Osric.

  “Every background has unique experiences that change the way they think about things. I could see the benefit of that plan. Keeping it exposed to Aranthians would help us to control the risk, and eventually they would be far enough along to not risk death with a simple accidental cut.” There was a great deal of danger in the beginning of the plan, but Osric knew the risk would diminish with time. It was a good plan, and the fact that some progress had been made in dealing with the many situations that had come about because of him gave Osric a modicum of relief.

  “It just occurred to me that Jane may need an examination by a Wand-Maker too. She spent a great deal of time with that blade, making it into the piece of art it has become. I would guess that anyone who worked with her in her blacksmith shop could have inherited a great deal more than they know. We may have a second set of Aranthians who could safely use Legati. We wouldn’t have to limit exposure to Kenneth, if I am right,” Gus said, smiling.

  “Kenneth does have other duties. I can see how having more hands to hold Legati could be useful.” Osric nodded in agreement. “But my abilities have changed as new gifts have developed. It will do little good to have dozens of people with dozens of gifts if no one can use any of them.”

  “That’s true, but it shouldn’t be difficult to shift some training time toward learning to use the new abilities. Most of the gifts granted by the sword should be represented somewhere in the Aranthian population, so we just need people to spend a little time teaching the use of their own innate abilities. Eventually, we could train everyone in all of the gifts.” Gus’s ear was twitching as he grew more excited about the idea.

  Osric grinned, the possibilities finally lifting some of his pessimism. “All right, Gus, you make a good case. Now, if we could come up with a plan for helping Eublin, creating more troops for our battle with Dredek, or dealing with the dragon situation, I would consider this one of the best meetings I have had in a long time.”

  Gus patted the blade. “I’m still not sold on changing the hunt, and the dragon issue is a priority.” He motioned for Osric to put Legati away. “But I think it will have to wait until we finish with this Dredek business. And as for recruiting the troops we need for our upcoming assault—”

  “For that, ye be needing me and me kin.”

  As they looked up from the sword to see who had interrupted Gus, a grin greeted the two.

  “Machai!” Osric rejoiced as the thought of over nine hundred dwarves filled his mind. They would be familiar with both dual wielding and close-quarter combat in tunnels below ground. He couldn’t imagine a greater moment for his old friend to arrive, but there was so much to catch him up on. He stepped around the table to greet him properly. “I can’t begin to tell you how happy we are to see you.”

  “I have to admit, even I am thrilled to see your grisly-bearded face.” Gus laughed.

  “I be glad to be seeing that smirk on yer face hasn’t fled.” Machai ruffled the hair on Gus’s head and then held his hand out to Osric. “And I be seeing ye be busy during me absence. Ye still be looking as strong as ever, but there be far fewer men than when I be leaving. What trouble be ye placing me students in?” He smiled and grasped Osric’s wrist in greeting.

  “Actually, the boy has been rather wise in his allotment of men, given the current issues he’s been dealing with. Even you would be proud of the way he has been handling things.” Gus nodded respectfully.

  “Aye, I be always proud of the High-Wizard’s command of me Aranthian brothers. Be ye having many new problems arising?” Machai spoke the word Aranthians with pride, letting it linger on his tongue a bit longer than the word would normally elicit in conversation. “Who be earning our scorn this day? Me kin be longing to be part of the Aranthian fight.”

  “Our men are out on duties that extend beyond battle,” Osric replied.

  “Aye, then it be relief efforts that be taxing yer mind? We be seeing dragon attacks even on the shores of me realm.” Machai’s guess was correct.

  “Yes. I’ve just committed nearly all of our healers and tradesmen to helping the elves. Though some are still trickling in due to cultural requirements,” Osric answered with a quick nod of his head.

  “Aye, demand for aid in dragon attacks be causing a bit of frustration for me as well.” Machai grinned. “Do ye be having plans for me brothers in arms already? Or be we having time to train in spells?”

  “Well, I’m afraid that the assignment of Aranthian troops doesn’t end there.” Osric’s expression was apologetic. “We have also sent all but a few remaining healers and tradesmen to Rowain to help them deal with a dragon attack that nearly destroyed all lineage that could take back the Turgent throne. We are taxed beyond our breaking point. If it weren’t for your nine hundred, I fear we would have no chance at defeating Dredek. Even now I fear it may not be enough.”

  “Perhaps ye be underestimating me determination to be easing yer burden. Me troops be gathered on the ground. Will ye be kind enough to be greeting ’em?”

  “I don’t see why not. We’re finished here for now, right Gus?”

  “I think so, and I’ve had my fill of James’s fine soup. Let’s see if more of his kin have the same scraggly beard, why don’t we?” Gus almost swaggered when he jumped down from the table and headed for the door, looking back at Machai with a mischievous grin.

  “Ye be testing me patience, ye cuddly rat.” Machai grinned as he traded insults with Gus.

  “Ah, patience shouldn’t be a problem for you, dwarf. You move so slow on those stumpy legs of yours, surely you have developed great patience over the years,” Gus replied, picking up the pace as he scampered on four legs.

  Gus continued to lead the way, scurrying up the stairs. He chose a path that led to the balcony overlooking the training grounds in front of the barracks. Osric knew it would be an excellent location to view the recent arrivals and discuss the ways to use the troops wisely, without the interruption of Machai’s men wishing to meet him and discuss whatever rumors had been circulating in the Dwarven Realm. He had had enough of that sort of talk in Stanton alone, and Osric knew how the dwarves were famous for telling stories. Human legends paled in comparison to the drunken stories told by dwarves.

  Osric gazed out over the balcony railing, taking in the sight of the mass of dwarves gathered in the yard. He had expected a large group, but the crowd filled the entire training grounds, the field surrounding them, and the path that led to town. More were appearing every moment as the Aranthians who had been sent to retrieve the dwarves traveled into the protective spell that secreted the headquarters from the outside world. Over a dozen wagons were lined up along the west boundary of the property, loaded to the brim with weapons, armor, supplies, and large casks of what Osric assumed was mead. The scene overwhelmed Osric.

  “Machai,” Osric said, “I don’t know how to thank you for coming through for us with so many men. Honestly, I wasn’t sure you would be able to recruit the five hundred you went for. I know there was tension between you and Thenar the last time you were home. How did you pull it off?” Osric gazed out at the ranks of well-armed dwarves with renewed hope for their cause.

  “Aye, tension be an understatement, but I be telling ye ye could be counting on me.” Machai grinned widely, but Osric could tell that the expression masked much darker emotions. The smile faded quickly from the dwarf’s face. �
��It be a difficult task to be accomplishing. Me kin, from FireFalls, willn’t be returning home after yer battle. Thenar be banishing us from the clan walls. Ye be gaining nearly two hundred new recruits for the Aranthians.”

  Osric’s eyes went wide at the news, and he looked between Machai’s sorrowful expression and Gus’s astonishment. “I’m so sorry, Machai. I never intended for you to lose your home.”

  “Aye, but I cannot be following a clan leader that be turning his back on the needs of Archana in bitter greed or wretched pride. This be me home now, and ye be the man I be choosing to follow.” Machai’s gaze was on his kin gathered below them, but when Osric gripped his shoulder in appreciation of his loyal words, he nodded.

  “There has to be at least seven hundred ugly buggers down there.” Gus attempted to break the solemn mood, though both men largely ignored his attempt at humor.

  “Nearly nine hundred, once they all be arriving, from seven different clans. We’ll be telling ye the story of the gathering once we be settled in.” Machai looked out over the gathered dwarves with bittersweet hope. Many of them may not make it out alive from the battle with Dredek. His own clansmen would not be going back to the Dwarven Realm at all.

  “I don’t have the words to tell you how grateful I am for this.” Osric looked down at Machai with a weak smile.

  “Let’s just be hoping we be having time to be preparing them before we be moving out. They be able fighters, down to the youngest and weakest of the bunch, but they be not a fighting unit. A bit of motivation from the High-Wizard may be a good start to uniting ’em and readying ’em to be fighting for ye.” Machai looked up at Osric expectantly.

  Osric looked out at the men gathered and realized how difficult it must be traveling that far from home in the blink of an eye. Many of them would never lay eyes on their loved ones again. That alone lent an air of finality to their fate. But he would ask them, in due time, to accomplish an impossible task that could not be accomplished by any other means. Machai was right, they deserved to be welcomed into the place that they had given up everything to be a part of. He looked out over the crowd and couldn’t help but wonder if their sacrifice would bear fruit.