The High-Wizard's Hunt: Osric's Wand: Book Two Read online

  Thom’s grin faded and he fell silent as he approached the next snare. Something wasn’t quite right about the scene. His vine was still tied to the low branch above the path, but the noose looked as though it had been untied. The loose end of the vine was lying on the path, and the leaves he had dropped were stacked in a neat pile next to it. Thom stopped, looking into the forest on both sides of the path and listening for any strange sounds. He heard and saw nothing, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. The other guards wouldn’t have done something like that. Either there was someone else nearby, or that part of the forest was infested with tree sprites. Thom hated tree sprites. He scattered the leaves with his boot and hurried on to the next snare.

  At first, Thom thought the next one was dismantled as well, but on closer inspection he discovered the vine had been chewed through. He had caught something, but whatever it was had gotten away. He grew suspicious again as he approached the second snare he had set. The noose was hanging from the limb, but the leaves he had scattered were gone. There were no markings in the dirt to indicate what had eaten them, and as Thom leaned down to get a closer look, something tickled the back of his neck. He brushed it away and looked up, and he was greeted with a handful of leaves falling down on his head. Sitting on the branch above him was a small, delicate looking creature with long tufts of hair sticking up in every direction from its head and back. It chittered down at him, scampered a few branches higher into the tree, and chittered some more. He watched with dread as two more creatures joined the first, and they all tumbled and flipped through the branches above him. Thom knelt down and picked up a rock the size of his palm and threw it up into the branches as hard as he could. They shrieked and scattered into the nearby trees, and Thom sneered as he headed up the path. Even finding a rabbit in the first snare he had set failed to improve his mood after the encounter. He grabbed it by the hind legs, snapping the vine rather than bothering to loosen the noose, and quickened his pace back to camp as the forest grew darker.

  Thom stomped back into camp and growled when he realized that he had nothing to skin the rabbits with.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Aron asked, reclining against a large boulder near the fire.

  “Tree sprites,” Thom replied shortly, scanning the ground for a sharp edged stone. “I hate tree sprites.”

  “Oh, Thom, are you afraid of a little sprite? They can’t hurt you. They will just steal you blind and then laugh at you for it,” Shrad teased, laughing with Aron across the fire. Thom looked up with a vicious snarl and was about to respond when Asram and Gad walked into the ring of firelight. Gad’s torso was bare and they held his tunic loaded with berries between them. A strip of cloth was tied around Gad’s right arm and blood trailed down to his elbow. Aron stood and walked over to inspect their haul as well as his injury. Grabbing a handful of berries, he popped a few into his mouth and spoke around them. “What happened?”

  Gad untied the strip of cloth to reveal a red, swollen puncture wound. Aron grabbed his arm and a bit of dark pus oozed from the wound. Gad’s eyes were bloodshot and he grimaced in pain. “We were collecting berries, and I tried to get deeper into the brambles for more. I tripped and fell against a tree with a vine growing around it. I must have caught a thorn in my arm when I landed.”

  Aron looked at him suspiciously. “Was the thorn from the berry bush, or from the vine? What did it look like?” he asked, squeezing more pus from Gad’s arm.

  “It was big, and dark. I think it may have been from the vine.” Aron swore under his breath at Gad’s response.

  “When you tried to pull it out, did it burrow further into your skin?” Darin, the small, dark skinned guard asked. Gad and Asram exchanged nervous glances.

  “It seemed to, just a bit, but I got it out whole. What was it?” Asram answered while Gad looked at his arm in disgust.

  “Probably a Rhy Vine. You are lucky you pulled it out or you would be dead by now. They are rare, but the thorns are like parasites once they get under your skin. I saw a man fall into a bunch of them once. He started convulsing and within moments he was dead. You need to clean that out and wrap it back up,” Darin stated.

  Thom looked around the campsite and asked, “Where is Cowald? I sent him to collect water; isn’t he back yet?”

  “I haven’t seen him,” Darin’s face showed a flash of concern, “but I can find some moss and make a compress until we can wash it. If you are lucky, it will draw out the toxins and you will live to see the sun rise. Perhaps one of us should go find Cowald and help him bring back water.”

  “We can’t go looking for him in the dark. Let’s eat and then get some sleep. We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow.” Aron shoved another handful of berries in his mouth and then grabbed one of the carcasses from Thom. He picked up a rock, slammed it down against the boulder to break off a sharp edge, and progressed to clean, skin, and spit the rabbit over the fire. Aron ordered Darin and Shrad to take the first watch before lying down near the fire. Thom fell into a fitful sleep, wondering if the sound he heard had been a scream after all.

  *

  Cowald scowled at Thom as he watched him walk off into the woods. How was he supposed to collect water with no way to carry it? He wasn’t even sure where the closest water source was. He walked a little ways down the path behind Thom and scanned the greenery nearby. Perhaps he could find something to fashion into a container. He caught sight of a tree with leaves the size of his torso and thought he may be able to carry water in one of them, so he stepped off the path and picked his way through the underbrush. Cowald stood beneath the tree, staring up at its branches. He couldn’t reach any of the big leaves, and the few he could see on the ground were torn or too shriveled to be of use. Just before he turned away in frustration, he thought he heard the sound of water trickling over rocks, so he followed the sound deeper into the forest.

  He came upon a stream in a shallow bed. The water was only ankle deep, but it ran clear and swift over smooth stones. He began searching along the banks for something he could collect the water in and carry it back to camp. He found nothing along the water’s edge so he turned back into the woods and searched at the base of the trees as he walked. His lips felt dry and his throat parched. He felt a strong desire to return to the stream for a drink, but first he needed to find a way to carry the water. He was not paying particular attention to where he was walking, but he was surprised when he found himself standing again at the edge of the small stream. Five small, blue stones formed a star-like pattern just beneath the water in front of him. He recalled seeing the same pattern of stones when he first came upon the stream.

  Cowald frowned down at the water. It looked so refreshing and cool, he wanted so badly just to kneel down and quench his thirst, but he had orders. He quickly turned and resumed his search; the sooner he found a way to carry the water, the sooner he could drink himself. He walked into the woods in a different direction, carefully walking from tree to tree in a straight line away from the stream so he could find his way back. He combed through the underbrush, diligently looking for the hollowed shell of a pike nut. The pike trees were common enough near the ruins at the base of the mountain, so Cowald hoped he could find one nearby. If not the tree, perhaps he could find the discarded shell that an animal had left behind. Pike nuts were nearly the size of his head, although they were more of a fruit than a nut. The hard outer shell was the only thing he could think of that would make an effective container. He really wished he had his wand. He could have made a pot out of clay from the stream bed and cast a spell to harden it. Cowald thought he should probably make a couple anyway before he left. They would take a day or two to harden, but at least they would be able to collect water easily later on their journey. His thoughts were interrupted when his foot splashed down into water, and he jumped back startled.

  Confused, Cowald stared down at the five blue stones. He was certain that he had not turned around and headed back toward the stream. It seemed im
possible that he had returned to the exact same place three times, but even more unlikely that the star pattern of stones was repeated. There was something strange about the small stones. Their color was so bright, almost pulsing with a luminescent blue light, and they were so perfectly round as to seem unnatural. Cowald bent down to get a closer look. He tried to lick his parched lips, but his tongue felt like gravel in his mouth. He was so thirsty. Perhaps just one drink would be all right, to slacken his thirst before he resumed his search. Cowald paused, troubled. He couldn’t seem to remember what he was looking for.

  The blue lights grew brighter in his vision and his thirst was overwhelming. Kneeling down at the edge of the water, he leaned forward to see the stones more clearly. He placed his hands in front of him to steady himself, his palms flat on the sandy bed of the stream, the water lapping at his wrists. The blue stones appeared to be moving, slipping further out into the current away from him. Cowald suddenly felt very anxious that the stones would wash away and he may never understand their mysteries. He shifted his weight and leaned farther out over the water to keep them in sight.

  The blue lights floated with the current, shifting and dancing, but never quite changing position. Cowald stretched his hand out to try and grasp one of the stones, but it was just out of his reach. He crawled out into the water but couldn’t seem to close the distance between himself and the blue stones. As he drew his hand from the water to reach for them again, he noticed that the water rose with his arm and encircled his wrist as though his hand was still submerged. It was a strange experience to watch the water cling to his skin like a child at its mother’s skirts. He turned his hand over and stared in awe as the water twirled with his movements.

  A winged shadow passed over him, and he heard a distant roar. As adrenaline coursed through his veins, he glanced up at the sky in fear. He caught sight of a dragon through the foliage and froze, eyes closed and heart pounding. As he broke eye contact with the blue stones, clarity flooded his senses and suspicion crept into his mind. Something was wrong; water doesn’t cling to skin. Cowald panicked. He tried to lunge backward and get away, but he could not tear his hands from the water. It felt as though there were chains around his wrists, but no metal cut into his skin. He felt himself being pulled toward the middle of the stream. He scrambled for purchase with his knees, to no avail. His arms were jerked out from under him and his face plunged into the cold water. He was able to lift his head from the stream long enough to scream before tendrils of water coiled up his torso and wrapped around his neck, pulling him down toward the five blue stones.

  Chapter 2

  ____________

  An Odd Departure

  The sudden bitterness of the cold met Osric’s face and hands when he appeared at the field in Lothaine. His thoughts drifted as he pondered Bridgett’s journey to the Grove of the Unicorns, wondering what mysteries Gus might be able to uncover. He fondly recalled how Gus had finally begun to treat him with respect, and the last few moments he had spent with Bridgett, looking into her eyes and kissing her hand as he held it in his own. He had to shake off the feeling of loneliness that hit him suddenly as he gazed out at the snow covered landscape.

  “Don’t tell me the warmth of Braya turned you soft?” Kenneth slapped Osric’s shoulder with a smile.

  Osric turned and grinned back. “No, I guess I just wasn’t prepared for the suddenness of the change,” he said quietly, thankful for the excuse the cold provided. Focus, he berated himself. Holding his hand up to shade his eyes and squinting at the brightness of the snow, he scanned the landscape. He caught sight of what he was looking for a fair distance to his left and behind them. Greyback popped her head up, gazing at the two of them in joyful surprise.

  “Oh, Osric, it’s so nice to see you and Kenneth again!” Greyback greeted them with a familiar, frightful smile. Her cheerful voice echoed between the nearby trees.

  “We’re glad to see you too.” Osric smiled as he turned to walk toward Greyback. He appreciated the friendly greeting. Thinking through the possibilities for their near future, it would be nice to have friends, and he couldn’t have asked for greater allies than the dragons.

  “How’s the wing?” Kenneth smiled as he made his way toward the massive dragon. He reached up and held Greyback’s wide face between his hands and took a good, long look at her. “You look healthy as a hatchling. You seem to have a bit more color in your scales as well,” Kenneth said, glancing back at Osric with a wink.

  “Oh, you really are too kind.” Greyback batted her eyes and smiled again. “I have been eagerly awaiting your return.” She gazed, almost timidly, between the two. “Thank you for freeing my kin. You will always have an ally in us, for as long as you live.”

  Osric decided that the look was not timidity, but gratitude and joy. Greyback was having a difficult time dealing with her emotions. A dragon welling up with tears? I hope things turn out that well for our kind when this is all over, he thought, as he reached his hand over and patted her neck.

  “Half of Archana would have done the same had they known that you were all enslaved,” he assured her, trying to break the tension. “But we have to get back soon, or they will know who did it. We have a lot of work ahead of us, too. Archana willing, the hunt will take us,” he motioned at Kenneth, “before our hides decorate the chambers of those responsible for enslaving the dragons.”

  “The hunt,” Greyback said solemnly, “will never take you, if the dragons have anything to do with it.”

  Osric furrowed his brow at Kenneth, who shared his apprehension of dying of old age. He shrugged in Greyback’s direction and smiled. Osric pondered the thought of aging, and the horror of it danced through his head.

  He pictured himself sitting alone, with wrinkled hands shaking with the weight of a cup, sitting next to a fire for warmth. His grim imagination painted pictures of his eye’s white with age, and nobody to talk to as he wasted away. A silent end to a life of hunting, with no last wishes, and the thought that his death would mean nothing to the world. There would be no nourishment for others by his body, and he would be left to decay in the ground.

  No, I’ll go hunting drogmas alone before I let that happen. He shook the uncomfortable feeling as the thought entered his mind. Drogmas were vicious creatures, unable to speak or wield magic with intent, but death at their claws was preferable to a slow, painful demise. Although, being a lower species, they would not offer him a last request, but at least his death would serve the purpose of food rather than decay. Osric turned his thoughts to the matters at hand. Besides, the thought of dying from old age was a moot point. Their current mission would probably lead to his death anyway. By the time he discovered who was attempting to start a world war on Archana, he was bound to have generated some powerful enemies.

  Greyback asked them to tell her about the fight to free the dragons. Although she had heard of their freedom telepathically from the elder dragons who had been held at the volcano, she wanted to hear it from the heroes’ perspective. Kenneth was more than delighted to relate the events for her, so Osric sat silently, listening and thinking about the future. They spent most of the day near Lothain, talking of recent events and enjoying the company of friends. Osric was unsure of what to expect when they arrived back in Stanton, so he preferred waiting until evening when there would be fewer people out and about. He thought about the implications of the attack on the palace and how much his life had changed since it occurred.

  Osric did not completely understand all of the changes he was undergoing or how he was able to perform such extraordinary feats of magic. He was confused and frustrated; although he didn’t really feel any different, he knew he was changing. He still longed to be a simple Vigile, serving his community and returning to his modest home each night. He doubted his ability to achieve anything great, and responsibility was being thrust at him faster than he could adapt to it. His wand’s power was still a mystery, but he felt as though it was only a small part of why he could feel the power
within himself growing. If it was just the wand, then wouldn’t my wand spells be the only magic affected by it? That doesn’t explain how my spoken spells seem to share the same power, or why no one else is as affected by Bridgett’s amulet as I am.

  Kenneth nudged him on occasion for support when Greyback questioned a part of the story. Osric chimed in with a, “That’s what happened,” or, “It wasn’t really that impressive,” but hearing it told by another with all of the intonation of a great fire telling made the events sound rather impressive, even to him. Kenneth described Bridgett’s selfless mission to distract the guards so the rest of them could get inside the volcano unseen. There were undertones of guilt in his voice as he explained how she had been captured. He waved his arms in the air as he described the timely arrival of Stargon, Ero and the other eagles. Hatred could be heard in his tone when he told Greyback how Thom had crushed the crystal key that was used to unlock the cages and they thought all hope was lost. Kenneth’s tale faltered as he tried to explain how Osric had made his first wand. It was clear that he still did not really understand what Osric had done. Osric was pulled from his thoughts by Kenneth shaking his shoulder. “Os, you will have to take it from here. I have no idea what you did or how you did it.”