The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) (51 page)

As Osric prepared to initiate the Earth Elementalist ability, he once again felt the emotions of Aridis, Gus, and Bridgett pressing in on him. They were worried—very worried—and Osric couldn’t help but glance back at them to assess why they were so concerned. Aridis was staring down at the stone beneath his own feet, watching what Osric could only assume was water tinged by the old man’s own blood. The look on his face was a disturbing mix of shock and horror, but Osric had no way of knowing what Aridis was reading in the stones. Gus and Bridgett were both staring down toward Osric’s feet, and he looked down to see that he had depleted nearly half of the pool of strands. He hadn’t expected the extension of his Stone-Sight to require this much magic, but he didn’t have time to wait for the stores to build back up. He could only hope the strain of his spell wouldn’t cause the whole network to collapse.

Desperately, Osric lashed out with the Earth Elementalist gift, condensing the stone where it had softened in the center of the depression in the floor. Archana had altered its own terrain to maintain a safe concentration of strands in the enclosed space, but Osric needed to keep the system intact by making sure the pool did not empty completely before he initiated the final spell of his plan. He needed strands flowing in from every vein that they had anchored in the tower or he wouldn’t be able to draw strands from that leg of the system. If he drained the pool completely, all would be lost.

Once again, strands were flowing upward from the center bowl in the floor, and the fountains of magic were still pouring strands into the structure from the various veins of rock along the wall. Soon it was clear that the level of strands in the pool was rising, but Osric could feel the tremor in the stone beneath his feet. He did not believe the structure would hold for long, and he was concerned that the stone would soften again and reverse the flow in the center. Osric hurried to complete his task, honing in on the column of stone under Angmar with his vision and preparing to activate the elemental gift. Just before he unleashed the ability, Osric caught sight of a surge of strands flowing steadily toward the Well of Strands. He had no idea what had caused it, but he knew he couldn’t allow all of that magic to reach Dredek. He suspected the caldereth had somehow summoned it, and his Portentist ability confirmed that this was the moment of urgency that his gift had been warning him about.

The wave of strands was moving faster than Osric had first calculated, and he released his Earth Elementalist gift just as the surge of power was traveling up the column of stone to the well. Osric drew as much power as he could from Archana, feeling an incredible rush as strands flowed into him from all over the world. Each of the fountains of magic was supplying him with strands from spans of stone beneath the surface of Archana. Rather than the strands cascading down into the pool, they flowed directly to him in a long arch from each vein of stone. From Gus and Bridgett’s perspectives, it must have looked like Osric was the source and the magic was radiating outward from his torso.

As the strands built up inside of Osric, threatening to tear his body apart, his muscles trembled. His breathing became rapid and strained, and his vision blurred. When he could no longer tolerate the pain, Osric gritted his teeth and cast out his hand, visualizing the complete destruction of the stone that carried the strands to the well. He released his restraining grip on the Earth Elementalist ability, and a concentrated beam of strands shot out from his hand. It took all of his focus and energy to maintain the beam’s density. His teeth vibrated and his vision wavered, but he did not relinquish his control over his gift.

The ray of strands was so dense, much like the beam of light that erupted from Legati during that first fateful powerlock, that it bore a hole through the stone all the way to Angmar. The heat from the concentrated power melted sand as it passed, and the shallows boiled and burst forth with large plumes of steam near the shore of the sea. The closer it got to Angmar, and the further from Osric’s position near Braya, the harder it was for him to maintain control over it. The beam widened, and tremors could be felt on the surface. Where there was little stone in its path, the sand above trembled and then sank, folding in on itself and sucking in anything on the surface with it. As the beam reached the column of stone, Osric spread his fingers wide and released his hold that bound the strands so closely together. The power burst outward, smashing through the column of dense stone just as the surge of strands was passing through.

There was an intense flare as the front wave of the surge rushed upward above the point where the column was severed. As the dense burst of strands shot upward, it narrowed and coiled around what looked like a central strand. Rather than slowing when the stone broke apart, the small surge gained speed as it climbed, as if it were being drawn upward by the initiation of a spell. Osric held his breath and waited, not knowing what effect his spell would have on Angmar, not knowing if he had acted in time to stop Dredek’s spell.

* * *

Dredek gazed down into the Well of Strands, watching the swirling strands with hungry eyes. He could sense the massive surge of power moving closer, and he focused all of his attention and ability on the spell he would use at the exact moment that the surge arrived. He had spent the last two hundred years preparing for this day: cultivating his identity, gaining power, gathering his kin’s remains, and seeking out the secrets of Archana. He knew how much power he had, and after all of his experimentation, he knew exactly how much he needed. The well was a wealth of power, a greater concentration of strands than he had ever hoped to find in one place on Archana, but it wasn’t quite enough for what he needed. All of his planning, all of his carefully orchestrated lies and deceptions, all of the death and destruction he had dealt had led him to the well at this exact moment. Now he knew why, and he was sure that he was meant to succeed. The surge of power hurtling toward him from deep underground would be the tipping of the scales in his favor. It was enough, and he knew it would only last a brief moment.

Dredek had spent days trying to find a way to increase the well’s power. Just the slightest increase in the amount of strands would be sufficient, but he could find no way to influence the flow of the strands. The only one of his abilities that he had tried that had any effect on the strand density had been the Earth Elementalist gift, but when he tried softening the stone to allow the strands to pass through more easily, it had actually decreased the amount of strands streaming into the well. Out of a great fear that he would compromise the well completely, Dredek had avoided using that gift again anywhere near the well.

Then, the Portentist ability had made him aware of the impending urgency of his preparations. In an attempt to determine the exact time that the gift was indicating his success, Dredek had studied the well carefully, and he noticed a gradual fluctuation in the amount of strands held in the bowl of the well. He posted three Wand-Makers in the well, ensuring that someone was watching it carefully at all times. Their orders were simple: watch the well and notate any changes in strand density. It had taken several days to identify a pattern, and then Dredek was able to create careful calculations of the opportune time to attempt his spell. The first day, the men recorded a slight decrease in the strands, and the second they reported that the strand density had increased a little. The next day, the levels dropped even further than the first, but climbed gradually until it was the highest Dredek had seen it. He studied the well himself at the times when the strand density was lowest and highest, and he discovered that the increase was exactly proportionate to the previous day’s decrease.

Yesterday, the well had briefly fallen nearly three times as far as usual, and his realization that it would peak three times higher had made his decision for him—now was the time for his spell, and the surge he had predicted was nearly upon him.

Dredek took one last look at his beautiful wife’s face, so pale and so still, and then he began the spell that would return her to him.

He held a wand in each hand, and he pushed all thoughts from his mind. His intent had to be unsullied by any image or idea apart from his spell. With the greatest of effort, Dredek used the wand in his left hand to establish a connection to each of the caldereth bodies that lay carefully arranged on the tower floor. He had successfully assembled the bones of each one, laid the foundation for flesh with a complicated concoction that had taken over one hundred years to perfect, and then watched as muscle, sinew, organs, and skin had grown over the skeletons. But their bodies were still empty husks devoid of life. Now, he must reconnect their bodies of flesh to Archana and establish the life strands that would truly bring back his people.

Dredek’s arm trembled only faintly as he watched the last connection form between his wand and the caldereth bodies. The strands that stretched out from the tip of his wand to the head of each person were stable and vivid, and Dredek felt the first hint of fatigue seep into his mind and body as he held the spell perfectly steady while dividing his focus to initiate a second spell.

Dredek lifted the second wand and aimed it at his own chest. Without allowing his focus on the first spell to waver, Dredek delicately began manipulating his own life strand and its accompanying strands that coiled around the life strand with each new gift he introduced into his body. With extraordinary delicacy, like paring the color from a flower petal without damaging its veins, Dredek slowly separated a nearly microscopic length of his own life strand. Using the second wand, he painstakingly peeled a portion of his life away, while carefully slipping the piece of strand from the intricately winding supplementary strands. He had to be extremely careful, as one tiny slip could sever the strand completely and kill him.

Over the years, he had collected nearly a dozen gifts from other men, and while he didn’t relish having to kill them, their sacrifices were worth the weight he felt on his conscience. By grafting the gifts into his own body, he had added to the breadth of his life strand. But the strands were still separate, still individually linked to the functions of his body, rather than actually expanding the single strand that anchored him and his power to Archana. They were tightly wound together, but he was able to distinguish the boundaries of each strand with careful observation. Removing the sliver of his original life strand from the center of the coiled strands was much harder, and sweat beaded heavily on his brow as he focused on his task. He hoped that he had begun the cut low enough that if he were to make a mistake and totally cut the portion of strand from his body, it would not cause too much damage.

In truth, he had no idea how much damage it would cause, and he kept his hand perfectly stable and controlled until he had separated a great enough length of the strand for it to reach the pool of Archana’s strands in the bowl of the stone floor. Once his life strand had made contact with the main pool of magic, Dredek’s hand trembled fiercely at the pain coursing through his body. First he felt relief at the success of this first step in his spell, but once the intensity of the moment passed, his body was able to process the stimulus from within. The pain hit him like icy water pouring through his chest. It was sharp and stabbing where he had begun the cut, and it spread quickly like fire downward through his body along the path of the life strand. Had the pain been isolated to the core of his body, he would have been able to keep his hand still, but it radiated outward like boiling tar through his limbs and all the way out to his fingers. He could no longer feel the wands he was holding, and he had to glance at his fingers to reaffirm that he was still grasping both wands in his hands.

Dredek consciously slowed his breathing, gritting his teeth to keep from biting his own tongue, and after a few moments he was able to gain enough control over the pain to manipulate it. With all of the tweaking he had done over the years to his own body, finding a way to alter his appearance to look more human and grafting in new gifts, Dredek was no stranger to pain. He had gained mastery over the nerves in his body long ago, though there was no way he would be able to rid himself completely of the ache in his chest.

The feeling came back to his fingers slowly, and soon he could keep his hands steady and his grip on the wands firm. Luckily, he could still see that the connections he had formed to each of his people were intact. With the pain relatively managed, Dredek turned his focus from his breathing to the portion of his life strand he had allowed to mingle with the Well of Strands.

The next step in his spell was the most difficult one, and it was the portion that he had failed in each time he had attempted this spell in the past. Most of his test subjects had died when he first began trying to resurrect the dead. He had never been able to link a life strand back into the bodies, restoring the connection to Archana and fully granting life and magic into the subject. In his two most recent attempts, though, with the lion and the deer near Braya, he had come very close. The lion had been first, the day he had come up with the idea to use a life strand from another being. The member of his personal guard had not been sedated heavily enough, and he had twitched while Dredek was stripping the life strand within the man’s chest. The strand was severed completely as he linked it to the dead animal, and he was too drained from the attempt to try again with the lion’s corpse.

The deer, however, had been a masterpiece. The deer was the proof that his spell would work. He had selected his donor life carefully—a young elven boy whose life strand was strong and bright within his body. He had drugged the boy heavily, then for assurance he had severed the boy’s spinal cord so he couldn’t move as Dredek split his life strand. By the time he made the connection, the deer was already growing cold, and seeing that creature’s barrel chest rise for the first time after lying dead for most of the day had been a moment of clarity and euphoria for Dredek. Before the deer could scramble to its feet, Dredek severed the life strand fragment from the boy. It had taken all of the power that Dredek could summon to pull enough strands from Archana and connect the life strand to the deer, but it hadn’t been enough. Shortly after it got its hooves beneath it, the life strand in the deer began to fade. Dredek knew it wouldn’t last, as the fiber of the strand was too thin and too poorly linked to Archana to be sustained, but the deer had fled into the woods with his heart beating and his lungs full of the breath of life. Dredek knew it would die within days, but he also knew that with enough power he could successfully restore life to the dead. The boy would have lived, but he was weak and paralyzed, and Dredek had no intention of allowing the child’s body to be discovered and initiating a war with the elves before he could find a way to raise his kin. The last thing he had wanted then was to give the elves a reason to help Osric and his band of rebels.