The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) (47 page)

“Osric! I’m okay. You caught me, and I’m okay. Hand me a wand before you pull me out of here. I seem to have dropped mine.” Aridis handed her the requested wand, and Bridgett wasted no time in lighting the tip to shine light into the dark stone trap that she had fallen into. “Let go!”

“What? No.”

“Osric, look.” Bridgett’s voice was calm and sure, and Osric looked down past his outstretched and aching arm, past her dangling feet. A stairway was just below her, and Osric reluctantly released her hand and watched as she fell less than her own height to land lightly on a step. Osric could see that the curve of the stairs followed the wall, and if she had drawn the symbols on the other side of the room she could have stepped down onto the stairway without any risk of falling.

Osric watched as Bridgett skipped down the stairs and disappeared from his sight around a bend. He glanced over at Aridis and Gus, wondering if Bridgett was right about Trevar’s concerns only being rooted in tradition and ritual. Before Osric could muster the nerve to enter the well and find out, Gus scampered over to the edge of the opening and dropped down into the hole. Osric gasped and looked down into the opening, fearing he would see Gus lying on the stairs with a broken neck—or worse, caught in the grip of the protection spells. Instead, Osric glanced down in time to see Gus landing lightly on the step, his wand in one paw casting a flow of air that slowed his fall.

“It seems the lovely lady was correct. I have come to no harm by crossing the threshold. Get down here, boy. What are you waiting for?”

Osric glared down at Gus, both angry and touched that the prairie dog would risk his own life to test the protection spells before Osric entered the well. He wasn’t sure if he should yell at Gus or thank him, and he wondered if Gus yelled so often because he was really just worried. Osric shook his head in dismay and leapt down into the hole. He scooped Gus up off the stairs and settled him onto his shoulder, giving his furry head an extra pat in gratitude. Osric lit his wand to provide light and rushed down the stairs to catch up to Bridgett. As he descended, Osric could feel the concentration of power growing, and his whole body was throbbing with it by the time he reached the bottom. The glow of the pool of strands in the center of the floor was so bright that he didn’t need his wand as long as his Wand-Maker vision was activated. The whole room was pulsing with a bright white light from the magic of Archana, and the sight took his breath away. He heard Gus’s sharp intake of breath in his ear as the prairie dog took in the vision of more strands than he had ever seen in his life.

Only one small table sat a few strides from the bottom of the stairs, and a bowl sat in the middle of the room; the rest of the room was bare. Osric just stood for a moment near the edge of the bowl, allowing the power of the space to seep into his being and purge all aches and vestiges of fatigue from his body. It was the most incredible feeling he had ever experienced, including the euphoria of the powerlock with his wand while trapped under the rubble of the Stanton palace.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Bridgett’s voice resonated with the power of the well, drawing Osric back to his purpose. Before he considered how to begin shaping the stone beneath the well, he pulled Bridgett into his arms and hugged her.

“It is incredibly beautiful.” Osric’s gaze was locked on her eyes, and they both laughed when Gus flicked Osric’s ear.

“Put me down before you go all lovey-dovey!” Gus nearly leapt from Osric’s hand before he could lower him to the stone floor. The old Wand-Maker’s eyes were wide with awe as he stepped close to the round bowl full of swirling strands. “Do you think I could dive in and swim in it?”

“And he yells at me about untested magic and irresponsible behavior,” Osric said with a grin. “I would advise against it, Gus. We don’t know what would happen, after all. Perhaps you would sink like a stone and drown in the strands. Actually, maybe you should try it.”

The sarcastic, though obviously unrealistic, suggestion was enough to bring Gus’s attention back from the well and into the necessity of their mission.

“So, what’s the plan? What are we doing here?” Gus’s voice was back to his normal gruff seriousness.

“We need to contact the others so we can initiate the alterations. I need to be able to guide the entire process, and I won’t know what I’m looking at until we can hear from every well. This will take some coordination, but with the right angles I should be able to see everything I need to see. Are you two ready?”

“Ready.” Gus and Bridgett nodded and spoke in unison. Gus held up his wand and initiated the communication spell. After a brief moment, the image of Irgon appeared in a beam of light above the tip of his wand. Behind the burly half-giant, Osric could see the chimney-topped hill that Chanda had helped him find.

“Irgon, have you located the stone I told you about? Is it there?” Osric asked.

“Yes, sir. It’s deep, but I can see it. We are ready for you.”

“Good work. Bring up the next site please.” Osric waited as the Wand-Maker at Irgon’s location used his wand to link communication with the next well. Osric checked in with each of them, using wand communication from one site to another until he could speak with every man and woman he had recruited to aid him in this undertaking. When he knew that each of the Stone-Sights had located the proper swath of stone to identify the depth and trajectory of the concentrated strands, he spoke to the entire group.

“Stone-Sights, you will need to trace the flow of the strands using the density and makeup of the stone. Follow the stone until you can no longer locate the proper stone. That’s when you guys come in, Elementalists. You are going to have to work closely with the Stone-Sights to alter the rock because you will have to work deep without compromising the safety of the surface. We need to avoid rockslides and creating air pockets that could cause cave-ins later on. Keeping the integrity of the terrain intact is an utmost priority. We also need to maintain communication at all times, so if anyone gets into trouble I can come assist you.

“Wand-Makers…” Osric heard an awkward throat-clearing from one of the many wand displays. “Excuse me. Strand-Seers, it will be your responsibility to ensure that the concentration of strands is consistent from your origin well all the way to the next vein of stone as the others work. If anything interrupts the density of the strands, you need to let them know immediately so they can account for it and make any necessary adjustments before moving on. Stone-Sights, make sure to keep to the path of least resistance, and guide the Elementalists carefully and accurately. This will make the project take less time and require less alteration to Archana’s underlying structure. The less we do, the better.” Osric waited as a chorus of affirmatives was channeled through the wands and he was sure that everyone understood his or her role in the effort. Before he sent them all to work, he reminded them again of the monumental task before them. “Remember, the further you get from the well, the faster you will grow fatigued from expending magic. This will be a long, grueling task, and it is incredibly important that you return to the well to recover before you are too tired to do so. Watch out for each other, and if you need help do not wait to say something. As long as the wand-communication is intact, I can reach any of you almost instantly if I know where to go. Speak clearly and specifically so I can find you quickly, and hopefully nothing will go wrong. I will be moving among you all, helping where I can, but I can only be in one place at any time. Whatever you do, do not allow the wand conversation to be interrupted or we will lose the whole group. Is everyone ready to begin?”

“Ready!” The cacophony of responses echoed from the stone walls of the well, and Osric gave the signal to begin their work. It was going to be a very long day.

27 — Killing Time

Dark rock and moist clay covered the wall. Dredek was beginning to enjoy the scent that greeted him each morning. Not just the damp, sweet, mildew odor that permeated most of the corridors throughout Angmar, but also his room, which was strategically close to the well’s entrance, as well as the garden. It was strangely fragrant located between the two, and waking with a deep breath of the mingled scents helped his mind to focus on the tasks ahead.

He let his right leg fall over the edge of the bed, allowing himself to wake slowly in the early morning hours. This was the day he had been waiting for, but it would do him little justice to rush the process with the day’s work left in front of him. Dredek reached to his bedside table, retrieved his wand, and triggered a spell to warm the water in the tub he had brought into his room. Then, with a second wave of his wand, he lit the candles mounted on walls and tables throughout the room.

He lay still, letting his senses grow more alert. As his excitement grew, he took many deep, calming breaths, stifling the rise of emotions. It was a process he would have to repeat many times as the day wore on, but a necessary step in avoiding mistakes.

When he could smell the humidity rising up off the warm bathwater, Dredek sat up and stripped his clothing from his body, seeing in the mirror the foreign human figure he had transformed himself into so many years ago. This would be the last day he would be forced to live with the disguise.

He let himself slip slowly into the warm bath and dipped his head under the water, holding his breath to calm himself once again. It was an odd feeling, being so close to being reunited with his people. He wasn’t sure what to expect, since the only attempts he had made before were with recently deceased animals, with most of their flesh, tendons, and innards intact. But the physical parts of the spell weren’t difficult anyway. The magical issues were the ones that made him hesitant, but he had been just shy of the power needed on his last try. Since his last attempt to bring life back to Archana, he had grafted two more gifts into himself and knew he had enough now to perform the needed magic.

He lifted his head out of the water and exhaled sharply, and then he inhaled. He let the water cascade off of his face, reaching for the soap and running it over his head. He continued to bathe, forcing himself to relax and savor the scent of the lavender soap.

When he had washed, dried, and clothed himself, Dredek boiled some water and added a small amount to a bowl of oats, nuts, and berries, stirring it softly while the water cooked and absorbed into the meal. Once again, he made it last. He purposefully took small bites, noticing the different textures—savoring them as if it were the first time he had experienced them.

Then, Dredek took a walk. He had awoken early, so he promised himself it would be a long walk, but the further he wandered from the well, the greater the sense of panic that filled his mind. So, instead of a long walk through the tunnels, he settled for a long morning pacing the chambers immediately surrounding the access door to the Well of Strands.

This alternative was much duller, as he had wanted to walk the gardens, but he felt a great deal more comfortable keeping his wandering to a relatively small location. His soldiers patrolling the halls were alarmed at the number of times they encountered him in the closed quarters. He issued small orders that meant nothing, more to provide a sense of normality than to accomplish any specific goal.

When the wait was more than he could bear, he walked back to his room. It was nearly lunchtime, and he had wasted half the day ambling back and forth, but now it was time to eat and begin what had taken him several decades to plan.

For his mid’day meal, Dredek had chosen something more substantial because he didn’t know how long he would be occupied. While on patrol in the tunnels of Angmar, his men had discovered rats nearly the size of dogs roaming around the lowermost levels in packs. Dredek had grown accustomed to a changing diet in his early years, even before the battle that took away his family, so there was no hesitation before devouring the meal.

To occupy the little time remaining, Dredek focused on the pull from his new Portentist gift. He let his mind trace the pull, letting the way his senses heightened with its prompting make his mind drift. It was a trick he learned after the first time he took a gift from another being. But the Portentist gift was altogether different than the others.

His only innate gift, Wand-Maker, had always been initiated with conscious control. Though he had never been truly great at the craft, it was relatively easy to master the depths of visual control he had while observing magic.

The elemental gifts were the first he had adopted, and they too proved to be easy to master insofar as the conjuring aspect. He could summon flames of different sizes, manipulate them into different shapes while he held them suspended in the air above his hands, and even keep himself warm on the long snow-filled nights he spent mourning the loss of his people. The Water Elementalist gift had proved equally useful in staying cool in the years he spent in Rowain.

Earth and Air Elementalist gifts were similarly mastered, though uninteresting for much more than trivial amusement. Even with his number of gifts, there wasn’t enough power to move a sufficient quantity of air or earth to make the gifts worthwhile.

But each and every gift he had was activated by his own will—until the Portentist gift. He had few opportunities to study its pull, and each time it activated it felt a little bit different. It always heightened his senses, true, but it was moments like these, sitting in his room alone with the sensation, that helped him to understand what was happening. This pull was one of importance, and it drew him to the bottom of the well where the bones of his people were lying.

Though, truly understanding the pull was almost unnecessary since he found that instincts, mingled with the speed that was so natural to the caldereth, caused his body to act in response to the gift’s leadings. Mastering the Portentist gift would be a feat unlike any of his other gifts, and he envied Osric’s skill with it.

He found that he could almost feel the direction of the pull, like the way his young son used to tug at his clothing to get his attention. It was subtle, and he still felt as if he was imagining it more often than not, but he was learning to give into the sensation and allow it to guide him. He knew he shouldn’t resist the sensation, but he was used to being in complete control of his abilities. This new gift was intuitive, though, and he felt his body wanting to lean or push away from the direction of the prompt. Sometimes it was mesmerizing, and other times it was a warning, but each time it accompanied either a pull or a push. When the gift activated, it was very briefly disorienting, like something was overwhelming his senses. He felt his vision and hearing sharpen, his muscles tense, and the hairs along the back of his neck and arms stand on end.