The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) (54 page)

“Breath the steam for seven breaths, then drink it down. And don’t make that face you make when don’t like something. I know how it tastes, but it will make you feel better. Your grimace will only make you drink it slower.”

Osric smiled at her words, amazed that she could speak so harshly, but her tone and her kind touch made it feel like she was whispering endearments in his ear. She had come to know him so well since they had first met—standing with a hornless unicorn between them as Osric muttered awkwardly, awed by her beauty and her… well, everything about her. He took the warm mug from her and obediently inhaled the vapors rising from the dark liquid. At first it smelled sweet like honey wine, but the sweetness took on a spicy note like cloves that warmed the lining of his throat. By the seventh breath, it smelled like the acrid smoke that rises from red-hot coals when apple cider spills over from the mulling pot. Osric quickly choked down the liquid before it could grow any more bitter from the steeping herbs. He handed the empty mug back to Bridgett, who smiled in appreciation of his cooperation. She reached out and wiped some of the herbs from his lips, laughing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring a strainer along. You may want to rinse your mouth with water and clean your teeth,” Bridgett said. Osric grinned playfully, displaying his teeth full of greenery.

Gus made a rude sound that combined clearing his throat and scoffing at their silly charades.

“I realize you likely feel like you were just crushed by a rockslide after that impressive display of magic, but you should probably come look at this.”

Osric struggled to his feet and shuffled the few steps to where Gus was standing on the small table. The hole that Osric had blasted through the wall was just above the tabletop, and Gus jumped up into it without much difficulty. The tunnel left behind by the blast was just large enough for the prairie dog to stand at his full height, and he scampered down the small passage until he reached the point where the mountainside fell away and Gus could see out across the rocky expanse of land north of the ruins that stretched out to the sea.

Although he dreaded the cost of using more magic, Osric grudgingly engaged his Stone-Sight ability and cast his gaze out through the stone to see what damage he had done with his spell. He heard Gus’s voice echo back to him through the tunnel.

“You made a new lake, over there, where those hills are.” Gus pointed his small paw due north, though he was obscured from view by the expanse of stone between him and Osric.

Gus was right. The land rose up into jagged hills just before it reached the sea, and Osric’s ray of strands had bored a hole right through them. Seawater was pouring out from the hole on this side of the hills, pooling in a small valley and forming a shallow lake where the land was lowest.

“How far did that beam of light go, boy?” Gus came running back to the tower and hopped back down onto the table. Osric was leaning heavily on the top of the narrow table, lacking the strength to support his own weight as he projected his vision back across the water toward Angmar. He expected to see a hollow tunnel through the stone on the south end of the Irua Realm, but instead he saw a perfectly round underground river. Water flowed into the passage on that continent too, and Osric grew more anxious as he pushed his sight further to see where the water was flowing to and what damage it might be doing.

At the point where the solid stone ended and the sand began, Osric was stunned to see that the water was flooding the sandy terrain. Several animals were already stuck in the resulting quagmire, slowly sinking into the soft, sucking sand. Osric’s vision showed him that the area of saturated sand was growing quickly, and he gazed at it in horror. He had completely altered the terrain of a large portion of the realm, and he had no idea how extensive the damage would be to the ecosystem. Thousands of people and animals could potentially wander into the region before it became widely known that the desert was now essentially a swamp. Osric cut off his Stone-Sight and closed his eyes, unable to face the hazard he had caused. He needed to get some men out there to reinforce the land or to at least build a safely traversable road. He would be cleaning up this mess for years, if not decades, to come.

In halting, emotionally choked words, Osric explained what he had seen. Gus just stared at him, speechless, and Bridgett wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. She didn’t know what to say, and she only hoped her embrace would convey her support for him. Osric let her hold him for a moment, allowing his whole being to focus on her warmth, on her solid, physical form, which could distract him from the rest of the world. But he couldn’t stand in the well, an ocean away from his war, and ignore his responsibilities. He took a deep breath, smelling the faint aroma of lavender that clung to her skin and her hair like wildflowers on a mountainside. He still felt shaky and weak, but an army was depending on him—half of the world was depending on him—and he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try to come through for everyone who needed him.

“We have to go to Angmar. Bridgett, do you think you can take us there? Is there anywhere within the tunnels you think it would be safe to travel to? Somewhere that is likely to be empty even with the tunnels overrun by fighting soldiers? We need to get as close to the Well of Strands as possible, because I don’t know if I can fight my way through from the outside.” Osric looked down at her, her arms still wrapped around him, and she felt the burden of his responsibilities pressing down on him with crushing force. Tears filled her eyes, but she held them back and nodded.

Osric glanced over at Aridis, expecting to see a congratulatory smile on the man’s face, but he was greeted instead with red-rimmed eyes and the same look of shock that he had worn when Osric sensed his intense feelings of worry.

“Aridis, what is it? Is everything okay?”

The old man was trembling, obviously supporting his weight on his heavy staff, and his skin was more pale than usual.

“I could not resist the opportunity to use my gift with such a great deal of power to feed it, but I fear it was a grave mistake to do so.”

“What do you mean? What did you see?” Bridgett stepped over to him and slipped a concerned arm around Aridis’s trembling frame, offering him support and compassion.

“I don’t think I can explain the potential devastation that I have witnessed, as I am not sure I will be able to sort through the various paths or their origins with any accuracy. Rest assured, darker times than any caldereth conjuror can summon are sweeping toward us, and that shall have to be enough for you to understand at the moment.” Aridis began climbing the stairs slowly, his staff striking the stairs, causing an echo in the well that sounded like a battering ram colliding with stone.

“Aridis, wait. Where are you going?” Osric started up the stairs, reaching out for the old man’s arm to stop him, but his hand froze at the icy expression Aridis turned on him when their eyes met.

“I will not be accompanying you to Angmar, High-Wizard. There is much I must see in the stones if I am to make any sense out of what I was shown here this day.”

Osric’s hand dropped to his side at the cold disapproval on his friend’s face. Aridis continued up the steps, leaving his three companions staring after him in confused alarm.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but shouldn’t we be making sure that that blast took off Dredek’s head?” Gus stood there for a brief moment, glaring at the retreating form of the cryptic Obcasior. Then, he glanced back at the hole in the wall and shook his head, grinning and muttering about magical marvels.

“You’re right, Gus. I wish I knew what Aridis saw, but we must hurry to Angmar and ensure that this fight is finished.” Osric gripped Bridgett’s hand and drew her attention back to him. “Bridgett, do you think you can travel that far with the three of us?”

“I can, but where do you want us to arrive? I don’t feel confident that any location in the tunnels I am familiar with will be clear of fighting.”

“We will just have to hope that Machai or Pendres can be reached, and they can let us know where it would be safe to travel to.” Osric pulled out his wand, but after using his Stone-Sight again so soon, even the small amount of magic required to link wands for a conversation seemed daunting. Gus shook his head and smacked Osric’s hand.

“You have done all any of us could ask you to do, today. The least I can do is call the dwarf and let you rest, my boy.” Gus drew his own wand, and Osric nodded gratefully and sank back down onto the bottom step of the small well.

* * *

Machai stomped through the tunnels of Angmar, dragging Dredek’s limp body behind him. He moved through the passages quickly, stopping only to display the remains of the caldereth wizard to any of the Turgent’s troops that he encountered. He had no intention of killing anyone else now that the threat was eliminated, and he was relieved to find that all fight fled from the soldiers when they saw that their leader had been slain.

Soon, Machai had made his way back to the main tunnels, turning into wider and more well-worn passages whenever he encountered them. He had no idea where he was, but he was gradually moving upward and toward the sound of clashing arms. His footfalls were still angry and forceful when he rounded a curve and the tunnel opened up into the main chamber where he and Pendres had first encountered Elidin. Machai stepped into the cavernous room and dropped Dredek’s corpse onto the stone floor. He glanced around the room at small clusters of fighting and dozens of injured Aranthians, dwarves, and Rowain troops along the outer walls. It seemed that no one had noticed his entry, nor one more body lying dead on the ground, and Machai’s anger flared anew.

Fueled by the rage of seeing his comrades bleeding throughout the room, Machai launched a massive fireball straight up into the air. The speed behind the burst of flame caused a roaring whoosh to drown out the sound of the battle. As the light and noise drew the attention of the gathered troops, the fighting stopped and everyone looked to where Machai stood over Dredek’s body with his axe gripped in his fist. Pendres caught his eye and crossed the chamber to stand at Machai’s side.

“I take it the High-Wizard’s plan went well?”

“I cannot be saying what Osric be doing, but the ugly bastard be falling down dead, so this war be over.” Machai scowled down at Dredek’s pale face. “Let’s be putting an end to this fighting.”

Pendres nodded and called out brief but effective orders in the guttural code that the Aranthians had been trained in. His troops, including the dwarves, reacted swiftly and fell into organized units with expectant faces turned toward Machai. The Rowain troops stared in awe at Dredek’s dead body—most with looks of shock and confusion, but many with expressions of relief.

“Aranthian troops, ye be fighting valiantly today, and ye all should be proud of yer contribution to making Archana a safer place to be living.” Machai nodded respectively at his kin and other members of the Aranthian army. Then, he shifted his gaze to Dredek’s men. “Ye, soldiers of the Human Realm, ye be honorable and loyal to the Turgent.” He stepped to one side and let the blade of his axe fall toward the body at his feet, swinging like a pendulum above Dredek’s neck. “This imposter be not yer Turgent of the Human Realm. Ye be fighting for him out of loyalty, but he be a liar and a murderer. And now he be dead.”

Pendres waited for the cheering from the Aranthians to subside before contributing to Machai’s speech.

“The Turgency will be reinstated to the proper members of the reigning family, so those commanders of the Rowain army that are still alive should be gathering your troops rapidly and making arrangements to return to the capital city of the Human Realm. Once the documents of surrender have been negotiated and signed, the Aranthians will, if necessary, assist with transporting the injured and the dead. I will speak with whomever has the authority to negotiate those terms now.” Pendres turned and walked through a low doorway into a small room with no door off of the chamber, and a soldier with one arm in a sling and a gilded helmet under the other arm limped after him through the archway. Machai was grateful that Pendres would be handling the political aspects of the resolution of the war; he was far more concerned about contacting Osric and then sorting out the implications for the Dwarven Realm.

Before he could join his kin and fully feel relief that the fighting was over, he felt the distinct surge of power through his wand that indicated a communication link, and he heard Gus’s voice vying for his attention.

“Machai, pull out your wand.”

Machai glanced one more time at Dredek’s body and then stepped over toward the melted mass of stone that Pendres had left in the wall. He rested his axe against the wall and held his wand out before him. The diaphanous image of Gus hovered above the tip of his wand.

“Gus, the battle be over.” Machai could see Osric sitting just behind Gus, and the High-Wizard looked haggard and beaten. The dark circles under his eyes and the trembling in his hands were clear, even in the small depiction via the wand connection. “Osric be looking a bit bleak.”

“Well, he pushed more magic through his body in one spell than I have probably ever used in my life, so
bleak
doesn’t begin to capture how he must be feeling. But he survived, and there’s a hole blasted through half of this world to show for it.” Gus was grinning so wide his furry cheeks looked as if they were stuffed with nuts. “The question now is: Did it work? Did he defeat Dredek?”

“Aye, Dredek be dead, and his troops be laying down their arms. Pendres be discussing the terms of surrender now.”

“That’s great news. We want to head to Angmar immediately, but we needed to know we wouldn’t get our heads chopped off the moment we appear. Can you give us a good location so Bridgett can get us there safely?”

“Aye, can ye be giving her a good view of this fused stone behind me? It be a clear landmark, and I can be keeping the space open to ensure yer arrival.” Machai held his wand high to show a clear image of the rippling stone. In the tower beneath the elven ruins, Bridgett moved closer to observe the location that she would be traveling to. After a brief moment, she nodded and stepped back toward Osric.