“You’re right. We won’t get to enjoy the peace that we are striving to bring about, but perhaps we can enjoy a few days here and there before we go dragon hunting?” Gus’s attention was once again on his son.
“Indeed. And based on those wise words”—Osric pulled his legs out from the rails and stood up—“I think my next step is to get myself something to eat. Would you like to join me for a morning meal?”
“No, thank you. It’s such a beautiful morning, and I’m feeling like taking a walk. I’ve been cooped up in that wand shop since we got back from Angmar. I haven’t wandered the fields outside Stanton looking for sticks in ages.”
“Pebble doesn’t typically use sticks.” Osric smirked down at the old prairie dog.
“Oh, I know. Some habits are hard to break, and I still make my wands to sell at Pebble’s shop. My wands will always be sticks—unless Miss Carrion requests something different.” He winked back at Osric. “Pebble likes to gather sticks, even if he doesn’t even make them into wands. Many of the best he gives to me, some he spells for games and toys, and a few he takes a fancy to and makes wands out of them himself. I guess he’s picked up a lot from me over the years.” Gus grinned widely. “I’m off to see if I can find better sticks than my boy today. Maybe I’ll spend some time thinking over this dragon problem. I may have it solved by the next time you see me.”
“Have fun, and keep an eye out for hunters. We don’t want to lose you. Now that even you are willing to accept a life without the hunt, it won’t be long until we see some real change in the traditions of our realm.” Osric laughed.
Gus’s eyes narrowed as he considered the issues of the hunt. “I think we will need to attack that on several fronts if we are to have a solution that will suit the need.”
“What do you mean by that?” Osric opened the door and let Gus pass through, and they took the stairs down while they talked.
“Well, it seems to me that these are cultural issues, as well as governmental, and our ability to raise cattle should be able to provide for those who want an alternative. If we combine an anti-hunt advocacy, led by Eublin and escorted by Aranthian guards with greater farming efforts and government zones where the hunt is forbidden, and others where it is allowed, then we could have a way for everyone to get what they want out of it.” Gus rattled this off as if it were simply common sense.
Osric watched him scuttle down the halls on all four legs, listing solutions as if he were reading them from a sign, and Osric was amazed. “Those may be some of the best ideas I’ve heard on the subject. How did you come up with them?”
“It just makes sense. Then, restrict the hunt to non-sentients in the hunt-free zones so that those living in the area can still eat, and maybe spell some tattoo ink to slightly deflect some of the force of a bolt to create another layer of safety for those who don’t want to worry about hunters without scruples. Yeah, that should do it. We all get to choose then.” Gus nodded once and then continued down the hall, nearing the front door of their enchanted habitat. “Yeah, even less honorable hunters wouldn’t kill if their first attempt wasn’t successful. Trust me, I know. Run it by Eublin and see what he thinks.”
Osric stopped, placing his hand on the stone wall and leaning to one side, squinting. “By all the blazing strands, Gus! You’re brilliant, and you’re a jerk. We’ve been at it for months on that issue, and you finally join us only to solve it in the time it takes to walk from the balcony to here?”
“It’s not as complicated as weaving the wells was, but I think it will do. We’ll have to tweak it a bit, but the basics are all there. I’m sure Toby would want to define non-sentient in legal terms, and we’ll need accurate maps and a way to enforce it all, but it should do what we need it to do. Lots of work ahead.” Gus smiled as he stepped out the door and into the sun.
“How did you come up with that so quickly?” Osric was astonished.
“I’ve told you all. Once I realized I was an idiot, ideas became abundant. I had to accept the fact that I knew nothing; then I was willing to accept a multitude of options I once thought were ridiculous. I think that is how young minds work. I am trying to emulate it. If I could teach Pebble one thing, it would be to never let himself take anything for granted. He is perfect now. It isn’t until you become set in your ways, like I was, that you lose sight of the exploration of things. That’s when possibilities become limited and life loses its joy.” Gus laughed, his face turning up with delight, and he met Osric’s gaze with certainty. “If a hunter takes me today, tell Pebble what I said.”
He turned away, smiling, and headed east. After exchanging greetings with a few early-morning trainees practicing dual-wielding techniques, Gus passed through the barrier and headed through Stanton.
Gus typically headed west once he left the Aranthian base. That was a habit that had stuck with him for ages. Not heading west specifically, but rather farming sticks from those fields. That had been the old Gus, and he was feeling adventurous today. He let himself explore the streets of the city as it awoke. Stanton had almost fully recovered from both the original attack on the palace and the battle with the Kallegian. He remembered the way the city had mourned and the utter devastation that the scorched and crumbling walls and the crushed or mangled remnants of the festivities had embodied.
They had come far since that day; even in the morning light they bustled about with pride and determination. None of those going about their business had forgotten what they had endured, as evidenced by their watchful eyes, always looking for any sign that would signify they needed to be at the ready. Every one of them carried out their duties with diligence, but attention to their surroundings was now commonplace. They weren’t wary, but rather optimistic in expression and stance, and no pickpocket or con would dare approach the people in front of him as he walked. These days, they were too mindful of the details around them.
It was a small blessing, but to know he had been a part of the change, and to see the determination and sense of community that grew from the tragedy, filled Gus with a gaiety that almost bubbled out of him when he walked. He didn’t let it, of course. He held it in; he still had a reputation to uphold, after all. The last thing he wanted was for townsfolk to be talking about how silly he was acting these days. His wands had dropped in value after Pebble took his place as the new master, but he still needed to help support the Aranthians, and his reputation aided in that endeavor.
He continued his journey as he exited the walls surrounding Stanton. He knew the battle with the Kallegian, and the early foundations of the Aranthians, had played a part in the formation of these walls. If it came to it, they wouldn’t aid in defending attacks from the air. He set his mind to solutions to that problem, given the dragon issue of late. The dragons themselves were an issue that needed to be solved, but he wasn’t even sure where to begin with that problem. He took a deep breath of the fresh morning air and tried to think of more pleasant things. This was a morning for enjoying the surprises that Archana could bring, and on that note he continued east as the road led away from town.
Gus skipped the less attractive—and in his mind, less interesting—areas as he went, using the traveling spell to help steer his journey. The trees were less interesting, less supple, more prone to breaking when grown in drier areas. The small bag he brought could only carry so many, after all. He needed sticks that, on their own, could last. He needed something that was flexible, sturdy, and had been moistened throughout its life. That is what makes a good stick.
He let his mind guide him effortlessly, drifting toward things that seemed interesting at the time. It felt good to just head out into the day without a goal set. He was an adventurer at heart, and his smile widened with every mile. Soon, with the use of the traveling spell, Lothaine sprang up in front of him.
Gus smiled. The traveling spell was a marvel: it would have taken him a couple days to make the round trip if it weren’t for the aid of the spell. There were several areas in the local fields that should
offer great wand-making material, if maps of the area were any indication.
The small town was hardly a town at all. Only a half-dozen homes were in the area, as well as a small tavern and the Lothaine Temple. Many people had traveled to this town’s temple to offer thanks to Archana, but the meager activities of the small village didn’t offer much to keep them there for more than a brief visit. However, several farms were situated on the southern edge of Lothaine, and that was where he was heading.
The farms had been established there due to the lakes and rivers located nearby; perhaps he could find something sufficient to make his search worthwhile. He regathered his bag, squinting in the bright sunlight. Gus looked to the south where the road led and continued on his way.
He turned left and followed an ill-repaired road east along the edge of town; the sound of water drifting among large trees with roping, gnarled roots drew him from the main road leading south away from Lothaine. A trickling stream was only a short distance off the right side of the road, but it turned sharply and headed south toward larger rivers on its eventual path to the Darib Sea. The distance to the other side of the stream was only an easy toss of a stone, even for Gus, but it was deep and the water moved swiftly as it rounded the bend. The left side of the road was clear of the tall-growing trees and roots, and it was unclear whether the road had been placed on the edge of the forest or whether the forest had been trimmed back to allow its passage.
Crickets were stridulating somewhere among the light cover of trees. As Gus moved along with the road, he marveled at the life around him in ways he hadn’t done since he was young. A couple of young squirrels chased each other through the trees, a woodpecker hammered noisily at a tree nearby, and sprites darted in every direction. The area was alive, and Gus lost himself in the experience.
Though he took in the beauty of the surroundings and found joy in the journey, he could not ignore all the pressure of the previous months. Gus struggled to rein in the emotions that flooded his mind and to focus on the question rationally. With Dredek vanquished, their greatest threat was the attacking dragons. He didn’t really understand the motivation for the attacks, and there didn’t seem to be any regularity or pattern to them either. With so little to go on, he was feeling more frustrated than inspired to problem solving.
Obviously they had magic that could help—spells for offense and wards and shields for defense—but there was no way to predict where the rogue dragons might attack next. People were creatures of habit, and the dragons had been a trusted means of transportation for as long as anyone could remember, but fear was another creature altogether. Fear was causing people to spread rumors—the worst of which was that the first of the dragon attacks corresponded with Osric’s releasing the elders at the Braya Volcano and that he was the mastermind behind the attacks all this time. The Aranthians didn’t say these things, obviously, and they defended Osric and the majority of the dragon species whenever they heard such things being spoken, but the Aranthians spent most of their time in the protection of the spell. Rumors grew roots in outlying taverns and rural areas where there was no one to say otherwise. Gus feared that soon the people would begin to fear the Aranthians rather than trusting them to give aid and protection where it was needed most.
If there was some way to identify and track the offending dragons, then they could anticipate the location of the attacks. Gus thought about his ideas for ending the hunt, and he wondered if there might be some way to use the same solution for tracking the dragons. It would require locating them first, coming into contact with the rogues in order to mark them somehow, but he thought he could devise a spell to track them.
Gus listened to the trill of birds in the trees and the buzz of bees seeking nectar in the wild flowers, and the smile returned to his face. He was certain he could track the dragons. He was already inventorying the necessities for the spell and working out the complications of casting it, but they had the networked wells to ensure he would have the power he needed to draw on. And the others would help him find a way to locate and tag the offenders. With a rudimentary solution to the problem in mind, Gus was finally able to let the pressure fall away so that he could enjoy his foray into the forest looking for sticks.
It had been years since he had run on four legs through the forest, but he let himself slip into a younger mindset, pausing only when sounds piqued his curiosity. Now, he abandoned the traveling spell, giving himself over to the physical pleasure of bounding about, staying out of the shade, letting the sun warm his coat as he went.
He was thankful to be alone, in the mood he was in, but Gus felt that his decades spent as the greatest Wand-Maker had afforded him at least a few moments’ celebration and frivolity. He paused for a moment with a ridiculous grin, looking about for any sign of observation, but there was none.
He continued, keeping one eye on the ground near the water, watching for signs that he could find the sticks that brought him out this morning. Pebble wouldn’t have been able to use much of anything located about, since he typically used much larger wood sources to carve a wand, but Gus was beginning to get excited.
The trees next to the stream on his right were getting larger the further he went, but the left side of the road had turned into open fields of sugarcane a while back. The distance between the road and the water grew wider, and with the growing distance and taller trees came a ground littered with even more fallen branches.
Gus stopped in the shade of a silo. It was tall and unremarkable and mostly made of stone painted white with small cracks radiating throughout. It was a very old building and had probably earned its owners fifty times the cost to build it before it became too rundown to store anything properly. And like his broken body, the attached refinery showed signs of years of too much hard work and too little upkeep.
“You and I have something in common.” He stepped close and spoke to the tall structure with admiration in his voice. “We’re both long past our prime, but we have done our jobs well.” He ran one long claw gently over the scars on his legs and torso from botched hunts and looked back at cracks in the stone. Smoke vacated the chimney of the refinery, indicating that someone was busy working inside, so Gus decided he should be working as well. “Now, I have an idea that should put my name right back up on top of the Wand-Maker world for a while.” Gus turned away and looked at the ground below the trees. “But I’ll need the perfect stick for this wand.” He smiled at the thought of recreating Osric’s wand with the help of the network of wells they had created. With a wand like that in the hands of every Aranthian, the threat of the dragons wouldn’t seem so daunting. But unlike Legati, these would be wands in the best form: sticks.
He took a few steps toward the trees, but something looked odd. The swatch of trees had grown wide, but no sounds rose from the life that surely dwelled within the cover. He looked down and was unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him. The land below the trees looked sunken and distorted, and the trees were leaning at odd angles in every direction. He was sure they hadn’t been that way just a moment ago.
Then, in a sudden rush, his Portentist gift flared to life, but danger was approaching from everywhere. The ground below his feet, all the way to the water and beyond, buckled. The area that collapsed was huge, surprising him as he shouted in alarm. Gus pictured his chambers in the Aranthian habitat and began to recite the traveling spell, but something solid smashed against the back of his head and his vision spiraled and went black.
When he opened his eyes, he could see blood mingling with the mud in the fur along his shoulder and forearm. His vision was still wavering, and the ground around him was shifting further toward the trees and water as the region was swallowed up in the sinkhole. Gus was stunned by the realization that he was witnessing the same scene that he had seen so many years before in the Seer’s vision. More than anything, he was surprised that he hadn’t noticed it was happening before it was too late.
Gus saw a large chunk of stone from the silo topple to t
he ground nearby, and he struggled to hold the image of the Aranthian quarters firmly in his mind. He fought against the fog that threatened to suck him back into the blackness of unconsciousness as he searched his memory for the words of the traveling spell. He tried to speak, to move his mouth and force the words from his throat, but he could not make a sound. He tried to push himself up from the ground, but the debris and the swiftly deepening earth that was settling around him had trapped his limbs. He struggled to draw a breath, his aged body unable to push back against the weight of the heavy stone and mud. Every breath was more shallow, and he was quickly losing his grip on consciousness As he desperately tried to breathe, to move, to speak the words to the traveling spell, a loud crack sounded behind him. Sugar dust erupted into the air when the silo split apart. He briefly registered the wash of heat that passed over him, and the last thing he saw was the bright light of the explosion when the flames of the farmer’s fire met the volatile dust.
Osric’s Wand Series
The Wand-Maker’s Debate – Book 1
The High-Wizard’s Hunt – Book 2
The Well of Strands – Book 3
The Weaving of Wells – Book 4
www.osricswand.net
The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) Page 45