The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) (6 page)

“We have had no communication with the rogue dragons at all. If they told anyone of their reasons, they didn’t allow them to live to share the message.” Bridgett shrugged. “Osric we have to find a way to stop them. I promised the elves that we would aid them when the attack occurred. I mean to keep that promise.”

He nodded. “Maybe we need to pay the elves a visit and see if there is any news—after we sort things out here, of course?”

Bridgett’s eyes were haunted. “If you could have heard that tree sing, you wouldn’t wait.”

“I will send some men to learn what may be done.” Osric squeezed her hand, relieved to see her smile at his offer.

“Thank you.” She stared at the table as she thought about what she had seen in the Elven Realm. The fear that had permeated the air when the elves realized the Mother was under attack had frozen her in shared empathic terror. “Osric—”

“I need you here. Please, don’t leave when I have just gotten you back.”

Bridgett smiled sadly but nodded. She would allow his men to go, but she would insist on speaking with them first.

* * *

Pebble held two stilts out in front of himself. He was impressed by the likeness to the performers’ sets he had seen as the entertainers prepared and practiced for the anniversary meal. His stilts were, of course, shorter than those used by the humans walking through the streets, but he had gotten a good look at them before their pant legs had been lowered over the wooden supports.

He had to modify it a bit to accommodate his prairie dog legs, but the design was still very similar to that of the tall figures walking about as they juggled flaming torches, knives, or colorful bags of sand. He loved the long strides that the stilts provided the entertainers so much that he wanted to try it for himself.

Surprisingly, he had found that he already possessed all of the materials needed to duplicate the stilts. He had already been crafting wands from much larger chunks of wood, so he had more than enough of the material on hand in his wand shop. The act of carving the walking sticks with his wand had proven to be a fun challenge. It was more difficult than making wands, but still enjoyable.

He propped the leg extensions up against the front of a nearby chair. Then with a quick vocalization of the traveling spell, he found himself looking back at them from atop the chair. He sat, sliding toward them, careful not to knock them over. He slid his back paws in from the side—one brace above the paw, one behind his leg—and slipped his claws into a few holes of the footrest. The last step was to secure his legs with a few thin leather straps. He looked up at the closed window where the afternoon light still made its way through the border, gathering his courage.

Pebble slid off of the chair, bracing himself with his front paws as he tested his balance. He pushed off and took two tentative steps while growing accustomed to the new stride and height. Thrilled with the experience, Pebble surveyed the room. He giggled when he looked at the countertop—he could nearly reach it if he could keep himself atop the stilts for a few more steps.

The door to the wand shop opened and the bright sun blinded him just as his next step landed. As instinct brought his paw up to shield his eyes from the light, Pebble’s right leg shifted slightly. The stilt slid out from underneath his paw, causing him to tumble down onto the dusty floor and slide a few paces before coming to a rest next to a pile of carved sticks.

A young voice giggled from across the room and Pebble sat up, untying the straps so he could address the rude interruption.

“I am sorry to cause you a fall.” The voice was amused and apologetic, though somewhat rough in diction and enunciation—but it was young. Pebble knew it immediately.

“Trevar!” Pebble smiled in greeting, forgetting the reprimand he had been working up to. “I saw ’em in the market. I built ’em, and I was gettin’ the hang of it till you startled me.”

“Oh.” Trevar scrunched his face, searching for the words. “It looks fun?” There was clearly more to his question.

“Very good.” Pebble nodded in appreciation of Trevar’s quick mastery of Common. “That was correct. And yes, it was fun. I’d let ya try but these are too weak to support an irua.”

“Yes, it is too small, but I bring fun for us, and food.” Trevar brandished a small sack in his right hand and held a plate piled high with cheese, rolls, smoked sausage, and apple slices.

“Yum, lunch looks delicious, but my pa says I’m too young to play bones.” Pebble looked around the room nervously.

“What is bones?”

“It is a game of bets and trickery.” Pebble shrugged.

“Oh, this is no bones.” Trevar shook his head.

“What is it, then?”

“It is…” Trevar hesitated. “It is magic puzzle of stone.” He moved to the table, set down the plate, and overturned the blue bag. Seven small stones tumbled out.

“How does it work?” Pebble climbed up atop the wooden slab as Trevar sat down. “I like rocks. I was named after small rocks.” They both nibbled on apples.

“These rocks do not do right,” Trevar said.

“What do you mean?”

“You see.” Trevar picked up three of the stones and tossed them in the air in an attempt to juggle. One rock hovered in the air in front of his head, one stuck to his hand, and the third diverted mid-toss and landed in front of Pebble’s left leg.

“How did they do that?” Pebble was stunned and intrigued.

“I not know, but I see men juggle them, toss to others, and throw through hoops. They say was mind tricks only mastered by the clever,” Trevar said, eyeing the rocks suspiciously. Pebble giggled and picked up one of the small stones.

“Mind puzzles!” Pebble tossed the rock into the air and they both laughed as it came to a quick, soft rest on his forehead and stuck. When it fell back to the table, he began looking at the strands within. “They’re charmed! I just don’t know how they work.” Pebble placed a claw on one stone and pushed it. To his surprise, the pebble sat in the same spot but three others scooted away from him on the table.

“Why don’t irua children learn to speak Common?” Pebble continued to manipulate the stones, trying to understand what was behind their odd behavior.

“They teach Common to most, but not to well guardians. I did not do learning with other children. I do learning with other guardians. We do very secret duty, so we do not speak Common until we pass tests of duty.” Trevar was also playing with the stones and trying to determine how they worked, but nothing they did elicited an appropriate response from the rocks. All of their manipulations caused an unexpected response, often from stones other than those they were trying to affect.

“It’s got randomy stuffs in it!” Pebble exclaimed. As he set a stone down on the table, another rose the same distance into the air as the one Pebble held was being lowered. He lifted the stone again slightly, and the one hovering above the table began to slowly rotate.

“What is ‘randomy stuffs’?” Trevar looked over at the plump prairie dog.

“I meant to say that the charm inside randomizes which magic it pulls from Archana.” He chose his words with great thought. “You shouldn’t learn words from me. I still mess it up ’cause I’m young and rush my talking when I get excited.”

Trevar weighed the words with a bit more thought than was required. “Big ones like your talk,” he said with a serious expression.

“They think I’m cute.” Pebble smiled big.

“This cute is true. I wish we had you at my home.” Trevar ruffled the hair atop Pebble’s head. “Our you is”—he concentrated—“not soft coat, smell bad, with sharp teeth. They bigger than you. They no speak too.”

“They say only animals that use magic with intent can speak.” Pebble nodded in understanding.

“What is intent?” Trevar asked questions like this a lot, but he was more comfortable getting the answers from Pebble. It didn’t feel like a lesson when they were playing together.

“Intent?” Pebble paused and looked up absent-mindedly. “It means to do things you want to, not just ’cause you got scared or mad.” He scrunched up his furry nose and added, “Or somethin’ like that.”

“Maybe it would be fun to set these like…” Trevar stood up and scooped the stones into their sack. Then something occurred to him and he changed his direction “Why is putting in sack so easy?” He paused.

“Dump them and do it again.” Pebble stood up on the tabletop with skeptical eyes.

Trevar upended the bag and the stones fell out again. They scattered effortlessly and naturally, as if guided by nothing but chance and the smoothed edges against the table’s surface. Pebble held one claw up in the air to tell Trevar to wait a moment as Pebble studied the spells on the stones. After a quick nudge of a rock sent two of the others hovering off of the surface, Pebble indicated that Trevar should collect them again. Once again, the rocks slid easily back into their bag.

“Super clever!” Pebble motioned for Trevar to give him the bag of stones.

“You see how the trick is?”

“I think so.” Pebble took the bag and dumped it out. “But I need a hat.”

He took the bag and turned around with a mischievous smile. When he spun back, the bag sat atop his head, tied by the strap under his chin. He smiled and bowed while Trevar laughed.

“You look like juggler man.”

“I’m not a good juggler, but I like tossing rocks in the lake.” Pebble picked up a few stones and skipped them lightly across the long part of the table. They slipped harmlessly, bounced off of the wall at the end, and scattered naturally based on the direction of the throw. “And I like to play catch.”

Trevar flinched as Pebble tossed another rock toward him. Surprisingly, the rock arrived on target and would have been caught if it weren’t for the fact that Trevar hadn’t expected it to do so. He giggled with glee that the puzzle had been solved so quickly, and then attempted to toss the stone back—it diverted left and another slid off of the table, adhering itself to the blade of the axe by the wood pile in the corner.

“You got it!”

“Yup.” Pebble smiled. “Touching the bag takes away the random. Here, you try it.” He took the bag off of his head and brought it to the edge of the table, handing it to Trevar.

“I have idea. This is what I was to do, before.” Trevar smiled, taking the bag and gathering all but one of the stones in his hand. He dispersed the stones throughout the room, placing them in odd locations: on bookshelves, under bowls, propping a book up, or buried under a pile of sticks. Finally he stood before Pebble and dropped the bag. He grinned down at Pebble. “Catch!”

Trevar turned around and threw the stone down sharply. Like before, the rock stuck to his hand and one that sat below the book shot across the room abruptly and collided with the one in his hand. Then they clattered to the floor in different directions.

“Neat!” Pebble jumped down from the table and scampered over to another of the stones. He attempted to pick it up and it stayed where it was, but across the room one of the stones began to slide in a circular motion at the bottom of a pot. It spun more rapidly when Pebble pulled harder at the stone held firmly against the floor.

Trevar picked up another as Pebble began to push his. The irua boy stumbled backwards, being shoved by the tiny stone in his hand. He pushed back and the rock Pebble held tight in his paw pulled him across the room.

They laughed and played with the stones well into the day.

4 — Prophecy’s Demands

Serha held her skirt in one hand and the heavy book in the other as she rushed through the halls of the barracks. Eublin had given her access to all of his books, and several recruits had volunteered to help her sort through the vast stores of knowledge. She hadn’t even known what she was looking for, but when she touched the book she was carrying, she had seen a vision that both terrified her and gave her hope. She needed to find the gnome and see if he knew anything about the book before she spoke to everyone else.

Serha found Eublin in the garden calling out to anyone who passed by about rejecting the murderous idea of the hunt. She hurried over to him and caught his attention.

“Eublin, I must speak with you immediately.” The gnome responded to the urgency in her tone and followed her into a small office nearby. They both took seats, and she placed the book on a small table in front of the gnome.

“Do you know anything about this?” Serha’s breath was short from her near run.

“Oh, let’s see what you have found.” Eublin lifted the big book and adjusted the small spectacles on his bulbous nose. “Yes, yes. I believe this one came from an old elven city. Were you able to read it?”

“No, but it triggered a vision that I do not fully understand. I wanted to know more about the book before I attempt to determine the significance of the vision.”

“I see. To be honest, I cannot read this book either. I once had an elven acquaintance who was able to translate most of it, but he would not record the translation. He said it was a book of ritual. Much of what it contains is what he called ‘The Story of the Stone Path.’ It is one of the books I have the least knowledge of in my collection, I’m afraid. I’ve asked the few elves that are in residence here, but they all said it is an old dialect that they are not familiar with.”

“That is unfortunate.”

“May I ask what it is you saw in your vision?”

“At first I thought it was the Well of Strands, but after thinking about it, I am quite certain that that is not the case. I think we should speak with Aridis immediately.” Serha’s hands were shaking as she thought more about what her vision might mean.

“I happen to know where Aridis can be found. Osric has awoken and is likely having lunch with Bridgett, so we should also speak with him. Let us go, my lady.” The gnome was not much taller than Serha’s belt when they both stood up and headed toward the door.

“He is awake? That’s wonderful!”

Serha carried the book with her, although she was sure that it would not do them much good since no one could read it. They found Aridis quickly, and he welcomed them into his chambers readily. Eublin caught a recruit in the hall and asked him to go find Osric. As soon as they were all gathered and Aridis and Serha had expressed their joy at seeing Osric alive and well—and awake—Serha described what she had seen.