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

by Jack D. Albrecht Jr.

  “Thom, ye'r tale be hard to swallow, but I believe ye.” He stood up and started pacing back and forth before the rock Thom sat upon, his wand and axe still gripped in each hand. “Who is ye'r commander?”

  “Just a gruff old man named Aron, but the chain of command goes much higher, not that I am privy to any of those names. I really can't tell you anything else, Machai. You already know enough to have us both tortured and killed.”

  “I may not like ye, Thom, but I willn't allow ye to suffer for ye'r compliance with me demands. Ye will answer me a bit more, and then we will be on our way. I willn't indicate that ye have told me a thing, but nor will I wander into the trap awaiting me. And ye will tell me what I need to know to ensure I leave this blasted mountain with me hide intact, do we have an understanding?”

  “Aye, Machai, ask what you will.” Thom replaced his wand in his sleeve and leaned back casually on the rock. Maybe having an alliance with the dwarf would be in his benefit. He certainly didn't want to provoke another encounter with that axe of his, nor the ire with which he wielded it.

  “Wise choice, Thom. Tell me, who will be accepting me delivery upon our arrival?”

  “I assume it will be Aron, although, sometimes a few of the guards are sent in his place.”

  “And if I appear to be unknowing of the happenings at the volcano, he will pay me and send me on me way?”

  “Sure, this may be a hazardous trail, but if no one ever returned from the volcano, sooner or later someone would come to find out why. It is in his better interest to keep you ignorant and intact.”

  Machai stopped pacing and scratched his beard with his wand. “Ye say the dragons are caged. What manner of bars would hold such beasts as those?”

  Thom hung his head and ran his hands through his shaggy hair. “They are heavily barred and locked, but the true restraints are magical in nature. I am told it took twelve men with the best wands gold can buy to weave the spells. No man could counter those enchantments. Nothing can get out, and thus, nothing can get in.”

  “Well, ye fed the dragons, surely ye must be able to get them meat.”

  “The enchantments are on a timed cycle. There are momentary lapses in the spell, but only for one cage at a time. As one shield falls, we drop meat through a feeding shoot, and then proceed to the next cage as the spell resumes. Once in a while, a dragon will have a well-timed spout of fire aimed at the feeding shoot. Some men have not been as agile as myself, to only singe my clothing. The reinforced metal is sufficient to contain them for the short amount of time the shield is down.” Machai was disturbed by the conversational attitude Thom had adopted in describing the cruel containment of such enchanting creatures, but he wanted to know as much as he could.

  “And a dragon be guarding the entrance? No doubt under duress that his kin will be injured if he does not be doing the bidding of this man, Aron.”

  “Yes, he is under orders to eat anyone who attempts to enter the volcano without an invitation, and he is an awful brute. I wouldn't cross him if I were you. He takes out all of his wrath on strangers that wander too close to the entrance.” Thom looked inquisitively at his short companion. “What exactly are you planning to do, Machai, rescue the beasts? I am starting to wonder where all these questions are leading.”

  “Do not be a fool! What could I possibly be doing to free them? I just be here to make me delivery, and I be no elven assassin! Get on with it, then. Lead me to this entrance and let me be done with it. The sooner I can be getting away from this volcano, and ye, the better, if ye ask me.” Machai slung his axe across his back, but kept his wand firmly in his grasp. He whistled sharply at the horses and they ceased their grazing and regained the rocky path. Thom shook his head in disbelief, but he stood up from his perch on the rock and cleared his throat.

  “This is where we leave the path, my angry friend. Tell your smelly companions to follow us.” Thom took a few steps away from the trail, and then stopped and turned back to Machai. “I answered your questions as best I could. Will you answer a few of mine?”

  Machai grunted, but his demeanor was cordial as he responded. “I will consider it, what be ye'r question?”

  “What are those horses hauling beneath that canvas? I have never seen a dwarf make a delivery to this mountain.” Machai was silent as he considered his response, but he decided the man would see for himself soon enough, so it wouldn't hurt to answer him.

  “Dwarven blades,” he noticed the spark of interest in Thom's eyes at the news, “the finest steel weapons, forged in the fires of me mountain home, and imbued with blood stones. It seems ye'r superiors have need of arms.” Machai inclined his head at Thom, “For an army, perhaps?”

  “I wouldn't know anything about an army, but Aron has been drilling us harder than ever. I assumed he was just being cruel, to punish us for allowing a stranger to enter the volcano.”

  “What stranger?”

  “A month or so before I left to meet you, a man arrived at the entrance to the volcano. He came on dragon back and spouted off something about being a Contege, summoned there by the Turgent himself to investigate the assignment of his Vigile recruits. I never saw him, but I heard about it from another guard. The guard who allowed him passage, rather than having him be eaten, was killed by Aron the next day as an example for disregarding his orders. He has been relentless in our training drills ever since.” Thom indicated that they should keep walking, but still seemed to have something on his mind. “Machai, may I ask you another question?”

  “Aye, what is it?”

  “Where did you learn to fight like that?” He grinned over at the dwarf, “No one has ever knocked me on my ass so fast!”

  Machai broke out in roaring laughter and looked up at Thom, “Ye never be fighting with a dwarf, then, eh? Ye stupid humans, ye only ever learn to be using one hand at a time.

  12 – Blood in the Water

  Osric was frustrated by their situation. He hadn't found many answers, and he had been bombarded by new questions. The book they had been given was a new source of irritation. Ero assured him that it contained the complete collection of Argan's life's work, but upon opening it, he had found only blank pages, yellowed and worn with age.

  Greyback was not healing as fast as Ero thought she would, and there was no way to know when they would be able to continue. He spent the majority of his time staring at a book with no words, trying to figure out what was happening to him, and waiting for Toby to contact him again. He had expected to hear from him a few days before, but nearly seven days had passed with no word. With ample time on his hands, and the inability to pursue other answers, he distracted himself by studying the book.

  They had passed Argan's book around their fire at night, taking turns examining the cover for anything that would hint at the contents. They had each flipped through the pages, squinted and held it up to the sun and firelight; all in vain attempts to find something that the others had missed. The only worthwhile discovery had been the vial lashed across the pages, resting between the tops of the front and back covers for over one hundred years. Osric held it in his hand, studying it intently.

  On its own, the vial was rather unremarkable. The contents of the small bottle, however, had piqued his interest. Whatever liquid it had once held had solidified and appeared almost black in the poor light of the caves. Osric had removed the small stopper and scraped out a bit of the substance. He sprinkled it on the book, in hope that it would make the words visible, but the attempt yielded no results. Despite the failure, he still felt as though the vial held the key to deciphering the book's mystery.

  Osric had explored the caves extensively. The first few days after the book was gifted to them, his companions had accompanied him. As the week wore on, they joined him less frequently, and the fifth day of gazing at its pages found him in solitude with the blank book and vial. The circumstances that had led to his departure from Stanton, and the events of the previous weeks, had given him an overwhelming number of questions to po
nder. Sitting alone on the cave floor, he tried to put the questions aside for a moment and focus on the beauty of his surroundings, but his mind kept circling back to the book.

  He was a bit uncomfortable with the cryptic explanation for the gift of Argan's book, to say the least. “Time has chosen you to carry the book,” was the only answer Ero would give him. He also felt disturbed by the eagles showing him so much respect after their strange encounter. He still had no idea what had taken place during the confrontation about Greyback. He was perplexed by his apparent acquisition of the Chronicleer ability. He had a hard time believing that he had the gift. Ero's words resounded in his head, you may be the most powerful wizard to ever walk Archana. Osric couldn't help but wonder, Why me?

  When Osric informed his friends of his new found ability while sitting around the fire that night, Gus had gone crazy in an attempt to use his gift to look within him, but Osric had refused. Gus would not back down, and when he looked as though he was about to try anyway, Osric spoke the word, “EXTOLLO,” in an effort to mimic Ero's magic. Gus did not simply raise up and hang in midair, he was knocked unconscious when his head hit the ceiling of their cave. Osric quickly uttered the counter spell and Gus dropped to the ground.

  Several fear filled moments followed while Bridgett made sure Gus would survive the incident. Osric decided not to attempt another spoken spell, on any being at least, until he understood more about how they worked. It had been a truly sobering experience for Osric. The spoken spells must rely on skill, just as wands do, he thought to himself, and he spent the next few days attempting to avoid the very angry Gus.

  When he was not occupied with the vial and book, Osric was uttering the spells at rocks by a nearby pond. Each time he tried, the rock would simply keep rising until it clambered against the high ceiling of the cave, or until he spoke the counter spell. It was frustrating that he could not master something that seemed so simple, but he practiced dutifully like his early days of swordplay with his father. The only difference was the lack of instruction. Each time he had attempted the spell, he saw the picture of Gus being smashed on the chamber ceiling, and the rocks played the same scene out over and over.

  Osric had spent several hours looking for Ero on one occasion. He was tired of trying to learn the spell on his own, and felt like asking would be the best approach; a sentiment that was shared by Gus. If he was going to be tossed around like a toy, it should be done, in his words, by someone that knew what they were doing. He had asked after Ero's whereabouts of several eagles with no results, but finally, an old female by the name of Juniper informed him that Ero had gone on a hunt, and may not return for weeks. He would have to continue practicing on his own.

  Kenneth found Osric sitting on a rock, considering the book and vial. He had been concerned for his friend with all the pressure he had been under the past few weeks. They had not had much time alone to talk, and Osric had been so distracted and serious lately. He felt as though, if he could get him to lower his guard for a time, then there was a chance that they could gain some perspective on the latest events. Osric had been all business for over a month. Even longer, if he took into account the planning time for the ratification ceremony. Hopefully, some time talking with an old friend could bring some repose from the torment he saw on Osric's face.

  “So, this is where you have been hiding?” Kenneth said with a laugh, and Osric gave a start at his voice. “Sorry, I thought you heard me coming.”

  Osric shook his head and let out a sigh in exasperation.

  “I never know what to expect these days.” A deep worried crease worked its way across his forehead as Osric examined the pond at his feet. “I half expected you to be a See-er, an eagle attack, or Gus, out for revenge. With my luck, I could have unknowingly discovered where the paun live in the winter.”

  Kenneth stood in silence for a few moments, observing as Osric set the vial on the open book in his lap and stared down at the gaupers swimming in the pond. Several small, lizard-like creatures he didn't recognize lined the bank on the other side, complacently chewing on the moss that grew at the water's edge.

  “Remember when magic was fun?” Smiling, Kenneth tried to bait him into a conversation of better times. Osric ignored him and kept his attention on the fish chasing around in the water. “Os, are you awake over there?” Kenneth nudged his shoulder in a friendly gesture of impatience.

  “Sorry, I'm not very good company right now.” Osric tilted his face in his friend's direction, his eyes closed, his head resting on the heel of his left hand.

  Kenneth desperately searched for a pleasant memory, something to break the tension. One attempt after another just seemed like water thrown at a wall, it could not break it down. Not very good company? He thought with a grin and arched an eyebrow at his friend. I've got it!

  “Feeling like a blacksmith today?” Kenneth teased.

  Osric gave him a look that not only suggested confusion, but a simultaneous impression of annoyance. That was the opening Kenneth needed.

  “I bet the blacksmith back home felt the same way, when he refused to let you apologize.” A broad grin crossed Kenneth's face.

  “That wasn't my fault. You said you could teach me to use the Hunter's gift.” The beginnings of a smile started to form on Osric's lips.

  “I still hold to that statement. You were just a bad student.”

  “There is a reason they call it a gift, don't you know you're born with it?” Osric was chuckling under his breath. “Oh, and bad student? I did exactly what you said!”

  “I didn't tell you to shoot him in the ass!” Kenneth cut him off before he could continue.

  “You told me how to aim.”

  “I told you to aim lower.”

  “Yeah, and to release when I felt the click.”

  “In your head, not the stick you were standing on!” Kenneth, with the Hunter's gift, felt a click, or groove, when the arrow was in the right place to be released. The fact that Osric mistook the snapping of a stick under his foot as the gift was an enduring joke between them.

  “If I had only known! To think I've been doing it wrong all these years!” They were both laughing so hard at that point that they could barely breathe. “That poor man, minding his own business, shoeing a horse!”

  “Scared the horse to death when he screamed, ‘My arse,'!” Kenneth's words were coming out between his gasps for air. “The horse nearly trampled him to death when it took off running!”

  “And then it kicked the leg of the ladder, and the man with the whitewash,” Osric started and they were both laughing and mouthed the same words in unison, “FELL ON TOP OF HIM!”

  Their chorus of laughter echoed around the cave. The gaupers swam to the opposite side of the pond and the lizards vanished from sight. A cacophony of flapping wings was heard as bats filled the air near the ceiling, their sleep disturbed by the clamor of the merriment.

  The conversation continued for some time, and both Kenneth and Osric felt better; a peace that only time among friends could create. No swordplay had been involved, no discoveries made; just two friends talking about good times in a cave, with darkness slowly surrounding them. For a moment, they were kings at banquet, the victors of a noble battle, and children in their mother's arms.

  Eventually, the conversation turned back to the mysteries they had encountered. They spoke of the events in Stanton, the decision to set out for Angmar, the encounter with the See-er, Pebble's sudden appearance, the eagle attack, and then the book and vile.

  “I'll never forget watching you use that spell on Gus.” Kenneth stated in a jovial manner, miming Gus being smashed on the ceiling with a laugh.

  “I felt so bad about that.” Osric felt good making light of the incident, and the laughter filtered its way in through his words. “I keep trying that spell, but I thought it safer to use rocks for now.” They both chuckled at that. “Unless you want to volunteer yourself for an experiment?”

  “No, um…” Kenneth looked around in feigne
d fear while laughing. “I've… I've got a date… Yeah, that's it!”

  “Oh you do, do you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I'm sure you don't want to keep your eagle maiden waiting.” Osric attempted a respectful tone but laughter was getting the best of the both of them again.

  “Yes, the eagle ladies find me irresistible!” Kenneth could barely speak through his laughter, but it was time to stop joking and see if his friend could see things differently in a new light.

  Realization clouded Osric's eyes as he reached the same conclusion. Their uproarious laughter waned to soft chuckles as they savored the final moments of gaiety. For the first time since their conversation at the entrance to the palace in Stanton, he felt relaxed. As they quieted, the sounds of the bats diminished, and the gaupers settled back into their routine in the pond. The laughter ended, leaving in its wake a brief but important moment of silence, signaling the end of amusement and a return to the matters at hand.

  “Still no word from Stanton?” Kenneth inquired.

  “No.” Osric spoke, after a quick exhaled breath, his only sign of disappointment that the light hearted moment had passed. “Should be any time now. They were more than likely held up with questioning survivors. Don't worry, Toby always comes through.”

  “So, we can't do anything on that front right now, and we are stuck here until Greyback heals. What progress have you made with that book?” Kenneth summed up the concerns Osric had been wrestling with quite easily. The tone of his questioning was casual and unobtrusive.

  “None whatsoever. I know it has something to do with this vial, but I can't bloody figure out what.” Osric replied.

  Kenneth took a few moments to think. Concern had not yet returned to Osric's face, but he did not want to push it to that point. Maybe if I help him sort this out, it will keep that scowl off his face. Spells with wands need only be done with the correct goal in mind. Maybe the same held true with spoken spells.