The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) (17 page)

The dragon launched herself off of the stone slab with her powerful hind legs and propelled them into the air with her wide wings. Greyback carried them swiftly into the sky, and soon the mountain faded into a hazy, snow-covered hill far below them. As she leveled out their flight, Greyback recited the traveling spell.

“Eo ire itum.” The sensation of falling was even more disorienting in mid flight than on the ground, and Machai gripped the straps of his harness tightly and squeezed his eyes closed. When he opened them, it was a very different range of mountains that spread across the land beneath them.

The snow-covered peaks had been replaced with jagged, mossy cliffs, and the roar of the ocean reached them even at the great height where Greyback hovered.

“You see that valley there, off to our right? That’s where I landed with a wounded wing. I would take you to one of the ledges, but I fear the eagles might think we are attacking.”

As Machai eyed the many dark crevices and crags along the cliffside, he noted two large shadows dancing across the rocks. With some effort, he was able to spot the giant eagles that were casting the shadows as they flew around the peaks of their home.

“Surely, they be seeing us from that vantage point. Can ye be taking us down to the ground?”

“Of course.” Greyback navigated around the lower rocks and flew out away from the mountains toward the grasslands. As soon as she had gotten away from the dangerous rocks, she landed gracefully in the open, where the eagles would be sure to find them.

Machai and Kablis had only dismounted and glanced around the area when the shadow of an eagle passed over them. They looked up just as one of the giant birds was landing nearby.

“We honor you, sister of the air. Do you bring us friends or foes upon your back?” The eagle’s voice was softer and higher than Machai expected for his size, but he hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with many eagles. Greyback responded with equal respect in her tone.

“May the winds bring you wonder. The dwarves are allies and friends of the High-Wizard. They come to seek aid from Ero, and they mean the eagles no harm.” The dragon spread her wings wide to the sun as she spoke, and the eagle nodded before taking flight. Machai watched the bird glide gracefully on the currents of air, as if they were lifting him intentionally to his home. Soon, Ero landed silently next to Greyback, greeting her warmly as though they were old friends.

Machai had not spent much time with the bird, but he had gotten to know him briefly at the battles for Braya, where they aided in freeing the dragons, and Stanton when the Kalegian had attacked. He knew the eagle to be honorable and greatly knowledgeable, as well as being a friend to Osric.

“Hello again, dwarf. What brings you to my cliffs so far from your mountain home?” Ero asked.

“Me kin and I be seeking to be aiding Osric by recruiting troops from me clan, but me clan leader be having other ideas. Me kinsman, Kablis, be calling a gathering to be overruling him, but we be needing the talents of a Chronicleer to be identifying the nine members of the gathering.” Machai nodded toward Kablis as a brief introduction and continued quickly. They had very little time to accomplish their goals, as Thenar had only allotted them three days to raise the gathering. “Will ye be willing to be aiding us?”

“I doubt that it is troops that Osric will be needing to end this conflict, but I don’t believe it would be harmful to have the dwarves working with the humans to bring peace to Archana. I will help you if I can. What exactly is it that you need?”

“We be needing the identity of the descendants of the nine dwarves at the last gathering of the first clan. According to prophecy, we cannot be holding a gathering unless we be maintaining the lines of those original participants. Those nine elders be establishing the nine clans of the Dwarven Realm, so it be likely the blood ties be staying within the clans.” Machai explained as best he could, but he was not entirely clear on what Ero would need to do to provide them with the information that they needed.

“Tracing genealogy is not usually my specialty, but as the lines are tied to prophecy, I may make an exception. Tell me, what will come of your clan if your gathering succeeds? Is this war worth the risk?”

“I cannot be saying what will be happening if we be gaining the troops, but we be assuring that Dredek be keeping the advantage over the Aranthians if we be failing. I willn’t be letting Osric down.” Machai squared his shoulders and gritted his teeth as he finished his declaration with a determined growl.

“Well then, shall we see what we can learn about the family lines of the dwarven clans?” Ero settled himself down into his feathers, tucking his wings in tight at his sides and closing his eyes. “Tell me the names of your nine gathering members, and I will see if I can glean who among the living has their blood running through them the swiftest.”

Kablis slowly spoke the names of the eldest nine members of the first clan, giving Ero time to utilize his Chronicleer ability and trace the heritage through the ages. Machai sat in wonder, as the giant eagle appeared to be merely sleeping. Yet, after a long, silent pause Ero would scratch at the ground and open one eye to gaze down at the product of his movement. When the process was complete, there were nine names and clans etched into the dirt at Ero’s feet.

Machai recited the names, committing each one to memory. The success of his mission relied on the nine dwarves, spread through the cold mountains of his realm in their respective clans, and the sun had nearly set on the first of three days.

“Ero, ye be performing a valued service for me and me kin this day. If there ever be anything that I can be doing for ye in return, ye need only be asking. I be owing ye a great debt.” Machai made a formal bow and held an open hand before him in a gesture of gratitude.

“This was a satisfying use of my ability if it will serve to unify the walkers and lead to peace in Archana.” Ero slowly nodded in acknowledgement of the gesture. “It is enough that you would return my effort with your own if ever I have need. Now, I know you are in a hurry. Be on your way, my friend.”

Machai smiled in thanks and the two dwarves ran quickly back to the waiting dragon and requested a swift return to FireFalls. Greyback roused herself from her relaxed position and allowed them to scramble up her wing to the seats on her back. She had barely cleared the tops of the cliffs when she spoke the spell and transported them back to the northern mountain range, landing on the dragon platform within a few moments of when they left the Caves of D’pareth. Machai and Kablis unlashed their packs and hopped down to the stone platform. After thanking Greyback profusely with grateful words and a generous offer of coin, Kablis asked her if she would request the aid of eight more dragons willing to travel around the Dwarven Realm. She assured him that she would have dragons waiting upon their return, but that she would not accept their coin. While the dragons often still accepted payments for transporting walkers, keeping their treasure hoards growing, none of the dragons would take coin for aiding the High-Wizard or any of the people who had helped free the elder dragons from Braya. Machai added his words of gratitude before Greyback flew off, and the dwarves traveled by spoken spell directly to the front gates of FireFalls.

Machai’s jaw was stern with determination, but the light steps that he and Kablis took assured the others of their success in identifying the gathering members. They indulged in a moment of celebratory congratulations from the assembled dwarves, but then they quickly set to the task of organizing the retrieval of nine dwarves.

“I be seeking Festil, blood of Gring in IronForge. Morgo, ye be finding Rhemt, blood of Metzel in SnowStand. Krind, Hern, blood of Stasp in BillowBluff. Batrel, be going for Furtl, blood of Myx in SteelBorne. Lers, be seeking Jom, blood of Tunft in BlackAxe. Phel, ye be heading to IceIsle for Kant, blood of Behg. Gerbim be finding Legin, blood of Ware in StoneStar. Pavyn, will ye be seeking out Prex, blood of Gyln in IronAnvil?”

“Aye,” eight unanimous voices cried out.

“Aye, and Kablis be seeking Irto, blood of Uvet,” Machai said. “He be a close advisor to Thenar, but we be hoping he can be swayed.” He dismissed the group of dwarves with an ancient phrase of parting: “Be swift as water, be sturdy as stone, be sharp as ye blade, and be ye soon home. The dragons be waiting, boys.”

12 — Portent Hunt

It felt good to be walking for long periods again. Though his strength wasn’t ready for a fight just yet, he was more than comfortable making excursions out into the tunnels to look for the things he needed. Dredek was finding the Portentist gift more than useful in that respect.

It had taken some getting used to, understanding the gift’s pull, but soon Dredek found it easy to determine the direction the gift was indicating with every distinct pull. At times the gift was rather alarming, as there were many dangers in the world that could hold import if one was foolish enough to partake. Learning that each pull of danger held different levels of urgency was a humiliating lesson. Everyone knew the dragon’s claw plant was dangerous when ingested, but his early experiments with the Portentist gift had him diving for cover when the door to a room containing the plant was opened. Luckily, he had been off searching rooms on his own when it had occurred.

He kept his daily searches as yet another step to help him to regain his strength, and it was working. He could feel the strength returning, and he had been able to spend a great deal more time stabilizing the Portentist gift. He thought back to the fight that he had had with Osric, wishing he had been able to retrieve the sword wand before he had to flee. All of his troubles would have solved themselves if he could have learned how to use the wand to gain powers as fast as Osric had.

Getting stabbed by the woman had been the turning point in securing the wand, and if she hadn’t arrived after he had already bonded the Portentist gift, rendering him virtually useless in battle, then they would never have escaped. But it made no sense to dwell on things beyond his control. He had gained another gift, and if his calculations were correct he would have more than enough power to complete his goals.

He had to focus on current issues, and locating deadman’s stalk was the most pressing issue on his mind. Luckily, one of the irua they were holding captive told them about several large apothecary shops on some of the lower levels. He decided to leave the two furthest locations to the younger humans in his army. The Portentist gift had signified that the closer location held something that was important to him. He needed the time to figure out if it was merely deadman’s stalk, or possibly something else.

The tunnels were dark, lit only by his wand, but it was more than adequate for his eyes. It was the perfect exercise to help him fine-tune his use of the Portentist gift. Turning right, Dredek was greeted by an expansive opening—the light from his wand only lit a small portion of the room. If it weren’t for the ceiling of stone above him, he would have sworn he had just turned into a market street. The walls were lined with small globes that began to come to life as he passed, and light slowly filled the expanse as he moved deeper into the chamber.

After the lamps came to life, Dredek looked closely at his surroundings. Water flowed from a central fountain. A large statue of an irua male stood in the center with a weasel perched on his shoulder, and water cascaded above a hand held over a spire that rose from the center of the pool of water. The way the lights reflected in the square made it appear that the water flowed up and into the outstretched hand.

Light continued to grow in the distance, and abandoned shops stretched on as far as he could see down rows of buildings. Portent had brought him to the location, but it was difficult to sense a direction from its pull. Dredek paced the area surrounding the statue, allowing the gift to become more familiar.

He allowed himself to drift, and two blue doors grew closer as he let his instincts guide him. Light brown walls stood sentry to the side, and a sign over the door displayed a bowl of bubbling liquid. Dredek felt compelled to enter the building.

He opened the door. As the light of his wand fought off the darkness, he saw wooden bowls stacked on shelves and dried herbs tied together and left dangling from hooks. He followed a path that led him around the low countertop laden with candles, and he opened the first drawer nearest the back wall. Three petrified deadman’s stalks rolled to the front of the drawer with a clatter. Dredek smiled as he pulled them free and stuffed them into a pouch at his waist. It was almost enough for what he needed, and he continued to explore the room.

Another drawer contained twine, swine bones, beeswax, ink, three quills, and a heavy coin box. At first, Dredek disregarded the contents to continue searching, but after a moment of thought he stowed the beeswax, ink, and quills in his pouch alongside the stalks.

He still felt the presence of something crucial to his plans, but what it was that kept pressing its urgency he could not tell. He turned over every bowl and opened every drawer, but not another stalk was found. He began to pace, walking to the back of the room and then to the front repeatedly.

His footsteps echoed throughout the small space, and after a time he could tell his location in the room by the tone of the footfall alone. Each knock of his boot filled him with rage as the source of the meaningful draw on his gift evaded him.

Thwonk, thwonk, thunk, thwonk, thwonk
.

Dredek began to loathe whoever had built the shop. The walls and shelves appeared to be built of sturdy supplies, but he must have run short of materials when building the floor.

Thwonk, thwonk, thunk, thwonk, thwonk
.

Each time he crossed the room he grew angrier, and imagining how he might kill the man was his only comfort.

Thwonk, thwonk, thunk, thwonk, thwonk
.

He could rip the life strand directly from his body or pull it taut as a lute string, pulling more and watching as each anchor snapped one at a time while screams of pain rang out and echoed throughout the corridors. Until, days later, he would let the life strand and another new gift become a part of his own growing power.