The Wand-Maker's Debate: Osric's Wand: Book One

by Jack D. Albrecht Jr.

  They enjoyed the simple meal while listening to Ero continue his story. As there were no plates or silver, they held their food in their hands and ate at their leisure. The fish had a smoky flavor, crisp on the edges and tender and moist within, and had a richness to it that both surprised and pleased them all. Osric had taken several bites before he realized he was watching the story in the fire again, rather than closing his eyes. Osric found the rulha to be well brewed; it had a satisfying, full flavor with a hint of bitterness that paired well with the fish.

  The entire room erupted with laughter as Pebble dug face first into the fish Bridgett had set before him. He thoroughly enjoyed the fruit juice as well, giggling when it made bubbles in his nose as he lapped it from Bridgett's cupped hand. Gus sat apart from the group with a resentful look on his face, sipping rulha from the small mug Ero had sent his way. Osric offered him some fish, and after a moment of hesitation, he took a small piece and returned to his sulking.

  All the while, Ero kept talking, and though their attention was not entirely on him as he spoke, his words stuck in their minds with surprising ease.

  “Argan spent years traveling the mountains until, at last, he came to us. We shared his aversion to the rest of the walkers, and so we allowed him to take sanctuary among us. We provided him with the solitude he desired from the rest of the world, and he shared some of his knowledge of the spoken spell with us. He helped us transform these caves into what you see today. Even though we assured him that we would not share his teachings with walkers, he kept the majority of his discoveries to himself.

  “Years went by as he lived among us and mastered his gift, but he kept his promise; not one eagle knew what his gift was. He was determined that it would die with him, and his book was charmed so that only those with his gift could read it. He had regular visits from the unicorns. He would barricade himself in this chamber with them each time they came, claiming that he was studying them for his craft and needed privacy. The things he could do with mere words would have amazed the world. The true extent of his knowledge is not even known by those of us who lived with him.

  “A See-er came to him one night while he worked on his book. The old weasel was only with him in this cave for moments, and then he was gone. Whatever had taken place in that short time had changed Argan completely. He was happier than I had ever seen him. He stated that his time was near an end, and that he would one day be remembered by all that walked Archana. He said that no one in history would be born with his gift, and that fact filled him with joy. We inquired as to how he knew this, and his reply was, ‘one never reveals what a See-er shows him.'

  “Argan was busy over the next few days, stating that he must prepare for his death so he would be remembered. He locked himself in this cave for two weeks and finished the book. Then he left us for what he called ‘a most important errand'. With a single silver coin in his paw, he vanished before our eyes, uttering words we could not understand with a wide smile on his face.” Ero turned and motioned to a shelf full of relics. In the center of the shelf was a very dusty book that he nudged with his beak. “A few hours later he returned, beaming, and set this book here. Then he retired to his bed and he died in his sleep. We have not moved the book since that day, but we have decided that it must leave with you.” Ero was looking intently at Osric.

  “So, indeed, we have no way to know if any of his spoken spells actually work then?” Gus barked out loud. The hours he had sat silently by had yielded nothing that he considered proof, and his mood had not improved for it. “We are expected to leave this place with that book, and it could be nothing better than paper to wipe my nose on? How do we know that your story is even true, or if Argan really did write that book?” Ero looked at him with deep scorn and sympathy.

  “Have you been paying attention to anything that has happened here?” Ero asked in a condescending manner. “Some of these things were done deliberately for your understanding of the nature of these spells.”

  “A fire-telling? Bah!” Gus was not impressed with Ero's tricks, and a fire-telling was poor proof in his eyes.

  “When I brought you into this chamber, I uttered two different spells. If it were not for those words, all of you would have perished as you crossed the threshold of this room. Nor did I use a wand to serve you your beverage. If more proof is what you require, I will gladly provide you with it. EXTOLLO!” Ero spoke with authority, and Gus raised up off the ground, struggling against the force which caused him to hang in midair, uncomfortable and spinning in every which direction.

  Gus pulled out his wand and cast a stabilizing spell to stop himself from spinning. He puffed out his chest and glowered down at Ero from his elevated position. “Put me down, you cloud-brained piece of paun vomit!! Right NOW!!” Gus shouted, above the gasps and giggles that filled the room.

  “Demitto,” Ero said, with a distinct look of satisfaction at seeing Gus' discomfort, and he was lowered gently back to the ground.

  11 – The Road To Braya

  Machai approached the elven ruins reluctantly. He felt much more secure on the solid expanse of stone that made up the mountain range he was entering than he had on the forsaken ship he had come south on. However, he felt a heavy sense of trepidation upon seeing the eerily quiet, crumbling structures that seemed to grow right out of the forest floor. He passed through a large archway and felt the remnants of a paved, stone road beneath his feet. Machai had traveled all over Archana, and he had never seen a place that looked as ancient as those ruins. He grumbled to the two horses pulling the creaky old wagon as he walked, kicking loose stones in front of him.

  “Ye beasts be lucky to be waiting for me dockside, ye did not have to wretch ye'r last meal into the sea. But ye could have warned me about this bloody heat. Rain would be better than this blasted humidity. I be boilin' in me breeches. Where be me guide, anyway?” He came to a sudden stop at the sight of a pair of booted feet propped up on a chunk of stone that had fallen away from the wall long ago. He heard a muffled voice from the other side of the stone.

  “How am I supposed to sleep with you yammerin' to yourself. I thought these damn bugs buzzin' in my ears were bad.” Machai reached one hand up toward the heavy axe slung across his back as he signaled the horses to stop, and cautiously stepped around the broken stone.

  A man was stretched out on the ground; one arm rested across his face, shielding his eyes from the dappled sunlight filtering down through the trees. The leather boots, dusty from the mountain trails, were the cleanest items of the man's attire. His faded tan breeches were patched in several places, and the right sleeve of his dingy tunic looked singed, as if he had gotten a little too close to his camp fire. His shaggy hair was hard to distinguish from the mound of dirt he was using as a pillow. Machai pulled out his axe and hefted it easily in one hand.

  “Tell me who ye be, or ye willn't have to worry about being awoken again.” At the implied threat to his life, the young man lifted his arm and regarded the dwarf closely. A silly grin split his face and he jumped up suddenly, causing Machai to take a step backward and look up at the much taller man.

  “I am Thom, your guide, and I think I will call you Shorty. They didn't tell me you would be a dwarf. I hear you guys are as feisty as you are short. Maybe this trip up the rock won't be as bad as I feared.”

  “It be in ye'r better interest to call me by Machai, or when ye be missing ye'r legs, ye'r friends will call ye Shorty,” he held the axe menacingly and glowered up at the dirty young man. Thom laughed casually and hefted his pack up onto his shoulder, turning to head deeper into the ruins.

  “Alright, Machai it is, but it will be a long hike if you can't find your sense of humor.” Machai slung his axe across his back and returned for the horses, then followed Thom with the wagon rolling noisily behind them.

  The ruins stretched deeper into the forest than Machai would have guessed from his first impression, revealing themselves to be an abandoned city, rather than the minor outpost that he had first th
ought them. The further they traveled, the more overgrown the path became. What had initially been recognizable as a road became little more than a dirt trail between massive trees. The horses had to place their hoofs carefully to avoid overturning a stone on the side of the path. After an hour or so, the sunlight filtering down between the trees became the dim impression of daylight, as they traveled beneath a canopy of greenery so dense that no rays could break through. The ground beneath their feet progressed from soft soil to solid rock, and they were climbing as much as they were walking. Thom stopped and pulled a long white wand from his sleeve. He stepped around Machai and pointed it at the ground near the horses' hoofs. A soft puddle of light appeared around their pasterns and the wheels of the wagon. The horses didn't appear to notice, but as they continued up the steep rocky slope, their hoofs seemed to barely touch the ground and they climbed effortlessly behind the two men.

  Thom stepped off the path into a small clearing as the dim light faded rapidly into night. Machai unhitched the horses from the wagon to allow them to graze, while Thom gathered wood for a campfire. He pulled out his wand to light the fire and Machai peered curiously at it. It was obviously carved from a long bone, bleached white by years of exposure to the sun, but in the fire light it seemed to glow with a reddish hue from within the bone. Machai could not think of any animal it could be from.

  “What manner of beast did ye procure that bone from?” Machai sat on one of many fallen trees in the clearing, which looked to have been severed from their stumps by lightning or careless magic. He suspected the clearing had been made by someone for a convenient campsite, and they obviously had no regard for the life of the trees in the magnificent forest. He regarded Thom as he pulled a whet stone from his pack and began meticulously sharpening his axe.

  Thom twirled the wand between his fingers and smiled savagely. “This is dragon's bone, my stubby friend. A gift, for my diligent work for mankind.”

  Machai glared at him for the disrespectful reference to his height, but restrained himself from putting his axe to good use. “I wouldn't be letting a dragon see that; they would be picking you from betwixt their teeth with ye'r bones, lad.”

  Thom sneered at him from across the fire. “Nah, those stupid beasts fear me all the more for having it.” He slipped the wand back up his sleeve and walked off into the forest. Machai eyed him suspiciously as he watched him walk away. Dragons, fear that mangy human, doubtful! He would be surprised if he could slay them a rabbit for the spit.

  Thom returned a while later, whistling as he came back into the camp, dangling a large hare from a noose over his shoulder. The animal was still alive, struggling against Thom's back with terror filled eyes, and the young man smiled as he bashed its head with a rock before gutting and skinning it for the fire.

  * * *

  Machai was keeping watch from the lowered gate of the wagon, his axe resting across his knees, on a dark drizzly morning of their third day on the mountain. He trusted Thom less the more time he spent with him. The man was cruel and careless with both animals and plants, tearing leaves from the trees they passed, and throwing rocks at the creatures that scurried from their path. He had no respect for the various lives that surrounded him, and his carefree attitude grated on Machai's nerves. He was thankful that they would reach the volcano within the day, and he could make his delivery and return to his home. He was anxious to be away from that place, as beautiful as it was, and the boorish, young man. He sat, listening to the last of the night's bird calls and the rain dripping from nearby trees, enjoying the peace afforded to him by Thom's quiet sleeping. It was the only time he was quiet. Machai sighed regretfully and jumped to the ground when Thom rolled from his blankets and immediately started whining about the rain. It would be a long day.

  They had a quick breakfast of hard bread from Thom's pack and a juicy, green fruit plucked from a nearby tree, and they were back on the rocky trail shortly after it had lightened enough to see. The rocks were slick from the rain, and they had to be even more careful to avoid upsetting stones and tumbling back down the hill. The horses still seemed unperturbed by the unsure footing, and Machai considered asking Thom to cast the same spell on his travel worn feet, but he would be damned if he would put himself in debt to a man he was despising more by the day.

  As they got closer to the peak of the volcano, the trees began to thin out and the hot sun broke through the heavy rain clouds. Thom dropped back to walk alongside the dwarf, twirling his dragonbone wand between his fingers. He stopped whistling and his mood became more somber, slowing his pace to a casual walk on the ever broadening path.

  “I like you Machai, so I am going to give you some advice.” The dwarf let out a short, gruff laugh, but held back his sarcastic retort at the serious look on Thom's face. “The entrance to the volcano is guarded by a dragon. He won't allow you inside. Don't challenge him, or he is ordered to eat you. Once you are paid for this shipment, I will lead you back to the trail and you can make your way back down the mountain. Don't ask any questions. My superiors don't like strangers. You must not make your camp any closer to the peak than this point, so you will need to travel quickly once you leave. I will recast the spell on the horses' hoofs, so you can ride one and lead the other. They will be less encumbered without the wagon, and you will make good time.” Thom stared at Machai, trying to read his expression to see how he would accept his suggestions. He had gotten the impression that the dwarf was not apt to be compliant with rules he didn't understand or agree with. Machai looked back at him, blank faced, deciding which answers he wanted first from the infuriating man.

  “It be sounding like me life may be threatened on this trip by more than sweltering heat. I do not like ye, Thom, and I think it be time ye answer some questions.” Machai indicated a rock on the side of the trail. “If ye answer to me liking, I will complete the delivery.”

  “I was afraid you would say something like that. Unfortunately for you, I am not allowed to answer any of your questions. There are many hardships on this trail. It would be a terrible thing, indeed, if you were to be killed by a rock slide, so close to our destination. Though it would not be the first time an accident befell a traveler along this path.” Thom sneered down at Machai, his dragonbone wand clutched in his grimy hand. “I suggest you just do as I say, and you may well make it back to where ever it is you came from.” He pointed his wand at Machai's chest and grinned maliciously.

  In a flurry of movement that belied his stocky stature, Machai whipped the axe from his back and the flat side of the blade connected with Thom's hand, knocking his wand from his grasp. In the blink of an eye, Thom found himself being knocked backward. He landed roughly on the same rock Machai had invited him to sit upon, with the dwarf's wand pointed at his right eye and the blade of his axe at his throat.

  “And I suggest ye sit down and answer me questions. I do not doubt that ye'r superiors would not be too disappointed if I had to complete me delivery without me guide.” Thom cradled his injured hand against his chest and glared at Machai, sitting eye level with him, and very angry. He had apparently underestimated the dwarf. Never had he seen someone attack with both weapon and wand, and he didn't want to make the same mistake twice.

  “Alright, it is obvious that you have the upper hand. Allow me to retrieve my wand and heal my hand, and I will tell you what you want to know.” Thom's voice was contrite and sullen, but Machai had no intention of trusting him. He kept his blade pressed firmly against the flesh at Thom's throat, and pointed his wand at his rapidly swelling hand. Soon, Thom could feel the bones knitting themselves together and the pain slowly eased as circulation returned to his fingers.

  “Ye may get ye'r wand when I be satisfied ye have answered me with truth. Why do ye be stationed at Braya Volcano?” He fixed his wand on Thom's chest, and lowered the axe to his side.

  “I serve as a guard.”

  “What do ye guard?”

  “Captives.”

  “Braya be a prison, then?” Machai h
efted his axe up and rested it on his left shoulder. The movement did not escape Thom's notice, and he swallowed harshly before he answered.

  “Not exactly. I assure you, Machai, these questions are better left unanswered, for your sake and mine. They will kill us both for the telling.” Machai saw true fear in the man's eyes, but it did not deter him from his interrogation. He waited with restrained patience for Thom to elaborate. Thom recognized the determination in Machai's expression, and his shoulders hunched as he explained. “The volcano serves as a prison, but not for criminals. It cages the eldest of the dragons.”

  “Dragons?” Machai looked shocked, and his hand holding his wand wavered slightly in his surprise. “What in stone's blood are ye talking about, man?” Thom sighed deeply, acknowledging that he could not avoid a detailed explanation.

  “I arrived here seven years ago with two of my peers. We had been trained in security measures, and were told that we were being given the opportunity to directly serve our Turgent. I started out butchering sheep, hundreds of them a day. After the first year, I finally saw what I had been preparing meals for: dragons. There are lots of them. Held captive to force the rest of their race to serve the wealthy and empowered as a means of transportation. For the past six years I have been a guard. It's better than chopping up sheep, aside from the occasional fire blast from one of those bloody behemoths.” He peered down at his singed sleeve in disgust.

  Machai was shaken by the tale. He sat heavily down on the ground before Thom and summoned the discarded wand with his own. He stared soberly at the young man and handed him back his dragonbone wand. He did not doubt the truthfulness of his answer. No one would make up that story.