The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) (36 page)

As they went higher up the mountainside, a low, sad sound filled the air, growing louder the further they traveled. It was almost a hum, and Osric thought it sounded as if an endless breath were playing some wind instrument.
Was this the mother singing? The Mother in Bridgett’s stories?
Osric quickly shook off the thought. There was too much emotion behind the tone for it to be controlled by a tree. Whatever it was, it created a somber feeling in the air itself. The music was colored by sorrow and mourning, and Osric felt the emotions welling up inside of him as the sound reverberated in his mind.

They continued up the mountain. A mist followed them as they traveled, lending its aid in disguising the tortured elven figures along the sides of the path. Some were merely blistered, but many others were burned beyond recognition, littering the hillside. Osric started to get an idea of the type of people he should send in their first wave of relief. He did his best to look at the path and the trees, but the music continued to draw his attention to those surrounding him. Bridgett and the other three Aranthians made no such attempt, and tears fell freely from their eyes as they took in their surroundings.

As they walked, Osric noticed that many of the people tending to the wounded were not elves. They were a much shorter race of elvish-looking creatures covered in a layer of tan fur. No doubt they were related to the elves in some way, but whatever had caused their lineage to yield this result was beyond him. His first thought was there must be some ancestor that shared both dwarf and elf parentage, but they had traits that looked distinctively catlike as well. Osric recalled Bridgett describing the girl who had served at the inn she stayed in, and he realized these creatures must be the nieko. He wondered why he had never heard of them before in the Human Realm.

As they walked, Osric made a mental list of the resources that seemed to be lacking, and he agreed with Shrad’s assessment that manpower and supplies for the healers should top the list. He attempted to keep his emotions in check so that he could focus on the daunting responsibility before him, but even without the Empath ability, it would have been nearly impossible to block out the tragedy surrounding them. Osric kept his thoughts busy with the preparations that would be needed to supply men and women with the necessary items once he knew exactly how he could help the elves the most.

They continued up the mountainside until a large hall was visible before them. A steady light filled hundreds of windows. Osric was beside himself wondering how such a building could be grown, but there was the telltale lack of planks, panels, carvings, or joints—anything that would indicate work done by hand or tools. The building appeared to be a large, hollow trunk, with many different levels. The size of the entire dwelling rivaled that of any castle or palace he had ever seen. Bodies moved in the windows as elves went about their routine, but on the bottom floor stood dozens of red-haired figures with somber faces. They wore long black robes that covered all but their faces. Osric looked to Bridgett and she shrugged.

“They were chanting when I was here last.”

“We have no songs when the mother is in mourning. Now is the time to reflect.” Elisad hung his head for a moment and then ushered them into the hall.

When they entered, the line of robed figures remained in solemn pose with their heads bowed and hands tucked inside their sleeves. Signs of life were everywhere, from pillars to walls, ceiling to floor—even the steps leading to the raised dais crawled with vines. On twelve thrones adorned with vines sat eleven imposing figures looking down on them with pleading eyes. The central figure stood up and stepped to the edge of the platform.

“Osric, I presume?”

“I am. To whom am I speaking?” He inclined his head.

“I am Lord Aveloc. The High Lord is away.” He bowed to each side, showing respect for those who sat to his sides. Each of the figures who sat on the dais bowed their heads in acknowledgment of the gesture.

“Lord Aveloc, it is a pleasure to meet you. I can assure you that allowing us to aid you was a good decision.” Osric reciprocated the respectful bow.

“Of that we have no doubt. We had a visit from a Seer after Bridgett departed. Our concern is that our culture may suffer from a large influx of outsiders.” Lord Aveloc stood stoically at the edge of the platform.

The news was unexpected for Osric, but the presence of a Seer failed to trigger his Portentist gift, so he continued. “I can understand your concern, but I assure you that we will try to minimize the interference. I was thinking we could send a couple of healers first. We have been able to make some impressive gains in magical understanding of the healing process. They shouldn’t cause any interference in your culture with the magic they practice.”

Osric had only recently been caught up on the advances that the healers in the Aranthian crew were making. Though he didn’t have knowledge of healing himself, Bridgett had assured him that they were significant advancements in instances of disease and tissue damage. All of these advances would be useful in aiding the elves in their current predicament.

“The healers’ help would be welcome. We could also use help securing our borders and gathering food, if you could spare the resources for such a venture.” Wide eyes looked at Osric and his crew with uncertainty.

Osric was taken aback by the swift admission that the elves needed help securing their borders. How much damage had the dragons done?

“I’m not sure how many we can spare, but we will send what we can offer.” Then Osric hesitated, looking to his companions and back again at the dais. “I suggest we send in six-man teams to be trained alongside your men, at first. Then, after a few days we can send in twelve to be trained by our men and work alongside yours. This would allow you to supervise all of the training that takes place, and to be able to see that the instruction is up to your standards. All of this with the understanding that we are currently battling a superior force and we may have to withdraw the majority of our men at any moment.” He wasn’t at all sure how the proposal would be received.

“A wise step in the right direction. I can see that you have given some thought to meeting our needs.” Aveloc nodded with approval. “And I can assure you we are well versed in your need for men at this time. Any help would be appreciated.”

“I share your concern for your realm, and I am happy to offer any aid that is within our means.” Osric attempted to express his surprise that the elves were so openly and tactfully admitting their need for help. “I’m glad that you are willing to accept the assistance of our people.”

“We were not confident that you would offer aid, High-Wizard. After all, our last meeting with Bridgett did not end well, as we were less than receptive to your needs.” Lord Aveloc looked to his chaired compatriots. “It is necessary that we be cautious in our negotiations with other realms. Yet, our encounter with the Seer has reassured us of the prudence of this alliance.”

“There is no evidence that your decision to deny aid in our time of need has caused us additional hardship,” Osric replied. “If you had granted our request, your situation may be even more dire today. We can be forgiving for the mistrust of yesterday, and grateful that prophecy has paved the path for our future negotiations.”

“Kind and wise words.” He bowed. “Now I will leave you to plan with your men, and I will see to arrangements for the arrivals.” Aveloc turned toward his throne, pressing his forefinger to the emerald on his headband.

Osric turned back to see surprised faces on all four of the men who had been living with the elves for some time and a searching gaze on Bridgett’s face as she surveyed those gathered. He could feel the nervousness coming off of her in waves. Then, he remembered why.

“Lord Aveloc.” He whipped back, interrupting the telepathic conversation made possible by the headpieces they wore.

“Yes, Lord Osric?”

“I am no lord,” he said, correcting the mistake. His men snickered behind him.

“My apologies, High-Wizard. What can we do for you?” Aveloc arched an eyebrow in annoyance.

Osric realized he was testing Lord Aveloc’s welcome by interrupting and correcting him, but Bridgett’s peace of mind was worth pushing the boundaries of political formalities. “We wish to know the fate of an elf by the name of Velien. He looked after Bridgett on her last trip here. Could you tell us, is he still alive?”

“Velien?” Aveloc gazed down at Osric with narrowed eyes. “I have no knowledge of his death, but you have more urgent matters to concern yourself with at this time, do you not?”

“Of course. Please forgive my inquiry, but his well-being is of particular concern to myself and Bridgett.” Osric squeezed Bridgett’s hand in his own and held Aveloc’s stare.

“He is at the western gate. I received a report on their status just this morning.” A woman on the left side of the dais stood up and rested her fingers lightly on Lord Aveloc’s arm. Her long blonde hair was adorned with the same array of delicate leaves as the rest on the dais. Her smile lent an air of elegance to her slight features. She wore a long green dress that cascaded down her throne and lay perfectly across the floor before her.

“Is there any reason he couldn’t be brought back to work with us? Familiarity goes a long way toward establishing trust among humans.” The request was more for Bridgett’s benefit, but Osric earnestly wished to thank him for the time he had spent with her.

“His rotation is nearly complete. I will bring him back to serve as our liaison to the troops reinforcing our borders,” the woman affirmed with a nod. Aveloc raised his brow, waiting to see if Osric would be satisfied or ask further favors of him.

Osric looked to Bridgett with a slight smile and turned back to the dais. “Thank you,” he said. Then as the group walked back out the door, Osric reached for his wand to initiate the communication spell and summon the first of the three men, but he wanted some space to talk freely. They continued down the path to a large open space free of trees and prying eyes. There were still some magics he didn’t want to share at this time, and he didn’t know who might be watching or listening.

Before he could initiate the spell, dust billowed from the rock-strewn ground as two eagles landed in a rush of wind and feathers. The eyes of the larger eagle peered at the group with dignity and respect. The smaller one, with brighter, black feathers and white atop its head, looked to the other with searching uncertainty.

“Ero!” Bridgett shot out from the group and ran across the distance.

Osric, surprised to see his wand outstretched in a defensive posture, lowered and resheathed the newly created treasure. His heart thumped vigorously but it took only a small amount of effort to regain his control after being startled.

“Bridgett.” Ero’s gaze let loose no small amount of joy with his greeting. “It is good to see you again. And Osric…” He looked to the four men standing a short distance behind him. “It is good to see you all.”

“I haven’t had the chance to thank you properly for what you did for us in the battle for Stanton.” Osric stepped forward with a nod. To his surprise, Gad, Landin, Asram, and Shrad stepped out from behind and approached Ero.

“And we have never had the chance to tell you how sorry we are for our part in enslaving your cousin flyers.” Shrad took the lead, referring to how the four of them had served as guards at Braya.

“It was wrong of us to do so,” Landin echoed.

“We should have fought to see them freed.” Gad stepped closer.

“But we were foolish cowards until the Aranthians showed us a better way,” Asram added.

“We submit ourselves to your judgment. We are certainly to blame for the dragon attacks on Archana,” Shrad finished as the four men bowed to Ero.

Empathy told Osric that the speech had been rehearsed, but the emotions behind their remorse were genuine. Ero looked to Osric questioningly, and Osric held out his hands, shaking his head to signify he knew nothing.

Ero looked down at the men before him and blinked slowly. “Should I drop you from the sky to fall to your death?”

“That would not be effective.” Landin looked up and shook his head. “Aranthians have experience falling great distances, and we could save ourselves.”

“Do you wish to be punished?” Ero looked back to Landin.

“It is not for the offender to decide if they should be punished.” He spoke in earnest.

“Then what gives me the right to serve as punisher?” Ero replied.

The other three men looked up with uncertainty. They each looked to the other for answers until Gad spoke in an unsteady voice.

“You fought to help free them, and we opposed you.”

“Osric and his men fought as well. Did they not bring you into their fold?” Ero looked them each in the eye as if they were children.

“Well, yes,” Gad replied.

“Then if they chose to ally with a former foe, why would you think I would dole out punishment? Do my feathers look like scales to weigh your value as men?” Ero looked down at his own chest.

“A nice gesture, gentlemen.” Bridgett began helping each of the men to their feet. “But prophecy brought you to us, and neither the eagles nor dragons argue with prophecy.”

Embarrassed, each of the four men took their place behind Osric.

“They are good men. You chose well in recruiting them.” Ero did what he could to restore their confidence. “Not many men would willingly submit themselves to punishment. Even fewer would inform the jailer which punishments would be futile.”

“We choose only the best.” Osric nodded, happy to have the uncomfortable moment behind them. “Do we have business to discuss, or is this just a reunion of sorts?”

“How did you get into the elven city?” Bridgett interrupted. “There are spells protecting this place from airborne intruders.”

“Eagles do not intrude, my lady. The eagles have lived in communion with the elves for centuries. We come and go as we please, and we are welcomed upon arrival. We bring aid to an old ally under siege from the fire above.” Ero looked insulted by the words.

“No disrespect intended,” she replied. “I never knew you were allies to the elves. My apologies.”