The High-Wizard's Hunt: Osric's Wand: Book Two (14 page)

“Happy, he’s is a friend.” Pebble ran to Osric and climbed his breeches as he knelt to greet the dog, holding out his hand. “Call him by’s his name and he’s will love you’s.”

“Happy? That is a great name.” He winked at Bridgett as the dog’s stump of a tail wagged excitedly while he ran his hand over its head. He sniffed at Osric’s coin purse excitedly, so Osric obliged by digging out the strips of smoked beef from his breakfast. After eating, Happy rolled over on his back, begging for his belly to be rubbed, and Pebble joined him in the display.

“Do’s me too, Unicorn!”

Bridgett laughed as Pebble laid on the ground next to Happy, wriggling for attention. Osric felt warmth spread within his chest at the whimsical chime of her laughter. They locked eyes for a moment, and many things passed between them without the burden of words. Though the world carried on, not noticing what transpired, they both took note of the vulnerability and trust expressed in a single glance. Osric noticed how the sunlight shimmered in her hair, carrying him back to the time he first saw her. He recalled how his heart had raced as he crossed the field, every step carrying him closer to her. Much as it was racing as he looked up at her smile. He had known even then that somehow their paths were entangled, but he never expected to be so entranced by her. Osric stood, and the distance closed between them in a single step. She stood facing him, pliable yet strong, as he drowned in her eyes. Osric reached out and pulled a small twig from a lock of her auburn hair. Her cheeks flushed as his fingertips brushed her neck, but their eyes remained locked.

“Os!” Kenneth came around the corner of the building. “You have got to see your sword! Jane crafts a hilt as well as Archana crafted her!”

“Don’t forget it either.” She trailed behind him, throwing her glove at his back.

“Yeah, I should probably stop playing around and get some work done,” Osric said, as he turned and walked away with Kenneth and Jane.
Stop acting like an idiot and focus. No time for romance,
he berated himself as he rounded the front corner of the building, but he couldn’t help but glance back at her.

Kenneth looked back and said, “I think you’re going to like this,” as they were led into the small building that served as the forge. Gus was crouched over something on a table in the corner as Jane led them around several tables to the back of the room. She opened a long, wooden drawer with a smile and motioned for Osric to look inside.

His sword had been transformed in his sleep. The blade was polished, sharpened and oiled to new condition. His eyes drifted slowly over the hilt. He stood, motionless, gaping at the beauty of it. Dragon wings adorned with jewels stretched out the sides in a graceful arch. An eagle’s head decorated the pommel with sapphire eyes that seemed to catch light from some hidden source. Elegantly adorned, with clean lines and dazzling reflection, the sword gleamed a pristine silver where the jewels were absent. What had been a leather wrapped grip when Osric brought it into the grove, was transformed into a nearly perfect representation of a unicorn’s horn. He reached out to pick it up and feel it in his hands.

“Wait,” Jane stepped in front of him and pushed him back a step, “you can’t handle a blade like this until you name it. It has been held with gloved hands while working it. No flesh has touched this blade, and none will, until it has a name.” She stepped away again for him to look at it.

A name came to him at once. “Legati,” he spoke in a hushed tone.

“Legati?” Kenneth questioned.

“It is all I have left of my father. It means legacy.”

“In what language?” The confusion was evident in Kenneth’s voice.

“I’m not sure. I must have heard it somewhere.” Osric tried to remember where he discovered the word, but it escaped his memory. Whether he could locate the place he learned it or not, the name fit, and it felt right. He lifted Legati from the fabric lined drawer and savored its weight in his hands. He turned it over, admiring the detail in the crafting. Pride surged through him as he spun the sword in his left hand, testing the balance of the blade. “Thank you.” The statement seemed insufficient to express his gratitude.

“When you’re done playing with toys, your wand is ready over here.” Gus glowered at him from across the room.

Osric sheathed the sword and made his way to Gus, only slightly annoyed at the tone in his voice. He had become accustomed to Gus’ belittling attitude and found it easier to accommodate without an argument. The memory and excitement of the newly fashioned blade in his hand resonated within him, and he found it difficult not to smile childishly even after the comment. Yet, he was just as excited to retrieve the wand that seemed responsible for his mysterious evolution in power.

Gus looked comical handling a wand he could easily use as a walking stick while standing on a tabletop waiting for Osric.

“Let’s see if you are smart enough to come up with a name for this, too,” Gus mocked Osric as he handed him the wand.

“Wow.” Osric looked at the wand. The bark had been completely stripped off, and the customary bolt was burned in the handle. It had a red hue, and was finished to a high shine. “I,” Osric stumbled over words, “I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful.” He looked up at Gus and then back at Jane. “They both are. There is no way I can repay either of you for these. Thank you.”

“Are you going to cry now, boy?”

“Gus,” Bridgett raised her voice as she stuck her head inside the window, unnoticed until she spoke, “I thought you and I talked about the way you treat people.”

“Ah!” Gus threw his hands in the air and walked to the end of the counter. “You can’t expect me to go easy on the boy. He’ll go soft!” He leapt down from the counter, using a chair to shorten the jump, and scurried out the door.

“So, what do we do now, Os?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I need to contact Toby to find out how things are there, but I really want to see some unicorns first. I tried the field down the hill, but it was empty.”

“Well, that won’t take long. If they aren’t in that field, they will be just over there.” Jane motioned out the door and led the way.

The group walked quickly down a worn footpath. Osric swelled with curiosity, wondering if he would be able to see something in them that Gus did not. Intrigued by the thought of finding out why they sent them to Rowain, he picked up his pace.

“How much further is it?” Osric asked.

“Just up around these next few trees,” she said as she rounded a bend and stopped short.

“I’m sorry.” Fallon stood in front of them, blocking the way. “The unicorns need you to stay away from them.” She pointed at Osric with an apologetic gaze.

“What?” Osric stepped back, wide eyed, as the far side of the field was the retreat for a dozen unicorns.

“I don’t actually understand it. They trust you with their lives, yet they have a deep fear of getting too close to you.” Osric stood stunned, trying to comprehend why the unicorns would fear him. He was about to protest when he was interrupted.

“Osric, ye be there? I be having some dire news for ye.” Machai’s gravelly voice emanated from Osric’s wand, interrupting the conversation.

Osric pulled his wand out and held it up for the image to appear, still shocked and not looking forward to more bad news.

“What is it,” he barked out, impatiently. He couldn’t help but vent his anger in his response.

“The cache of Dwarven blades at Braya be a wee load next to the shipment that be headed to Rowain,” Machai responded matter of factly, cocking his head curiously at Osric’s outburst.

“Strands!” Osric swore at the sky in frustration as his companions stood by with shocked expressions. “When did this happen? What did they order and how much?”

“Two hundred thousand of the finest Dwarven steel. The shipment be swords, axes, and spears, and they be endowed with all manner of enchantment stones. It be taking a very long time to be filling an order that size, Osric. I don’t be knowing when the order be placed, but the shipment be gone already when we be arriving.”

Osric struggled with the timing of the orders. The order of weapons must have been placed well before the attack on Stanton Palace. Unless they had a See-er working for them, they could not have known about the attack. And if they had a See-er, they could have avoided the death toll and stopped the disaster before it happened.

“Do you know who requisitioned the order of weapons?” Osric rubbed his temples with his free hand.

“Nay, but I be seeing the parchment with the Turgent’s seal. It be coming from someone in Rowain, if not from the Turgent’s own quill.”

“Are you telling me that the Turgent planned this whole thing? The Palace attack, the war, all of it?” Osric read the expressions on Machai’s face.

“Nay. I be telling ye I be having no idea what in stone’s blood this all be meaning, and that’s for ye to figure out. But I do not be wanting to see the effects of a mass of addle brained humans marching around with Dwarven blades, so we need to be stopping that shipment,” Machai paused momentarily, “If the Turgent did not be planning it, it be in his best interest to know who did. I will be meeting ye as soon as I be done knocking some sense into me kin for supplying the weapons. Do ye be wanting me to bring Thamas along? I willn’t be telling him more than be needed.”

“Well, what is your impression of Thamas? Can he be trusted?” Osric wanted to believe that he was a good man, but needed confirmation before his next move.

“Aye, he be as good a human as most any I be meeting. He be ready to be helping us fight, and he be better at using both hands than ye be.” Machai chuckled.

“All right, teach him the traveling spell then, as well. I want both of you able to flee and report at a moment’s notice, but be careful who you use it around unless you know they can be trusted.” Osric focused himself as he spoke, realizing what he needed to do. “Kenneth and I will meet you two in Rowain. We need to talk to the Turgent and find out what is happening.”

“Aye, I will be contacting ye when we be arriving. We will be
traveling
to the cliffs that be south of Rowain. It be the closest location I be familiar with, other than the city itself.”

“We recently took an impromptu trip to the area. I don’t remember seeing the cliffs, but I think we can find you. Meet us at mid’day.” Osric looked at Kenneth and signaled him to get his things ready.

“Oh, I think not!”

Osric looked over at Bridgett, and her face was flushed with anger as she approached.

“What is it?”

“You just woke up from two weeks of unconsciousness. You
will
give yourself at least the day to regain your strength.” She approached his right side and took his sword from its sheath, glaring at him in defiance. “I will give this back to you in the morning.”

Osric stood, mouth agape, watching her stride away with his sword in her grasp.

Ruins

Thom woke with a start. He could feel a sharp rock pressing into his hip where he lay, and he attempted to roll over to find a more comfortable position. He sat straight up when he realized he couldn’t move his left foot. He watched in the dim, pre-dawn light, awed and terrified, as the thick, green vine that was wrapped around his ankle crept further up his leg. He jerked his leg back with all of his strength and was able to slip mostly from the tendril’s grasp. He reached down and tore the vine from his leg as he called out to Aron. As he jumped to his feet, Thom glanced across their camp and saw a tangled mass of vines where Asram had been sleeping. He thought about trying to free him, but vines were creeping across the ground toward him, and he wasn’t willing to risk becoming entangled himself to save his comrade.

“Aron!” Thom called out, looking around furiously for his commander. He caught sight of him leaning against a tree where he had elected to stand watch, sound asleep with vines coiling up his legs and torso. Thom reacted on instinct and initiated his Beckoning gift and instantly Aron was pulled from the vines and slammed onto the ground at Thom’s feet.

“Who is the curse in this forest now?” Thom asked sarcastically, watching as Aron stood slowly, cradling his ribs where he struck the ground and looking around in confusion. “You were supposed to be standing guard, and now Asram is dead too!” Thom grabbed Aron’s arm and pulled him away from the vines.

“How in Archana’s rage did I end up at your feet?” Aron demanded.

“I used my gift to summon you from the vines before they crawled down your throat,” Thom replied a bit guiltily. “Honestly, you are lucky all of you arrived. It doesn’t always do exactly what I intend.”

“You beckoned me? Like a dog summons a bone?” Aron asked degradingly.

“I just reacted, all right! I would have used my wand, but that rat, Osric, stole it from me, remember? If I hadn’t used my gift you would certainly be dead, so quit complaining. Besides, if you hadn’t fallen asleep, your ribs wouldn’t hurt,” he added. They both started when a raspy voice drifted out from the forest.

“Death is not always as it seems. Oft times, in this forest, it is a truer beginning.” They turned to see a crooked, old man in tattered rags step out from the trees. He leaned heavily on a staff and his gray beard nearly brushed his waist. His long whiskers hung in stark contrast to his hairless head and eyes. He spoke softly, but his voice resonated with hidden power. “You are a fool, Dragon Master, to lie down among the bones of the elven city.”

“You always have to materialize from nowhere and startle me. It would be nice if, just once, I could find you instead, old man.” Aron scowled at him, but his tone was more respectful as he continued. “What are those things, Aridis?”

“Hard to say. Perhaps they are fast growing vines that care not for what lies in their path. Some say they are the souls of the elven mages that once reigned here. Others say they are the curse which drove the elves away. What say you?”

“Me? I say they are a blight and should be destroyed.”

“Ah, but how might you be ensuring their destruction? You look to be lacking in weapons and wands, if I am not mistaken.” The old man grinned. “Some things in this forest are hard to destroy, and even harder to control, yes?”