The Wand-Maker's Debate: Osric's Wand: Book One (15 page)

Osric sat back down and shook his head, trying to process those words. He held in the sobs that tightened his throat, and ran his hands through his hair. That is not the life that he wanted for himself. He wanted his security post in Stanton; to live simply and raise a family someday. Somehow, his life had been chosen for him, and the responsibility weighed greatly on his shoulders.

“Now, I know you all have absorbed much, but I must continue with what I brought you here to learn.” Ero resumed his lesson after a short time, letting Osric regain his composure.

It was a fire-telling unlike any that Osric had ever witnessed. Only after Ero confirmed his suspicions, did he understand why it was so different. He had been there in the story. He could smell the dragon blood and feel the tension in the air. It had shaken him to his core to see the desperation on the dragons' faces as they pled for Brinsop's safety. It took him several moments to regain control of his heaving chest. Though he had been hungry before the story began, his stomach was knotted into a twisted ball of anger and despair. He was thankful for the time Ero gave him to regain control, though he would have appreciated more; he realized that they did need to continue with their lesson. He closed his eyes, and lost himself in the story once again.

“Shortly before wands were introduced to the world, there was a race to find a way to make magic usable for the masses. The two leaders in the field were a man named Er'amar; a human, and Argan; an ursidae. Both offered widely different ideas of how to go about it, but they promised to present their ideas at a meeting of the newly established Wizardly Union.” Ero had regained his composure, as well as his lecturing tone, and the images once again danced in the flames. He paused at length to allow the pictures to play out.

The two figures of Er'amar and Argan were lifelike miniatures as they presented their ideas side by side in the fire. Er'amar had the attention of the crowd and conducted himself with poise and charisma. He spoke with his whole body; the grand gestures of the young, enthusiastic man awed the spectators.

In contrast, Argan was a large, hairy ursidae who intimidated and scared the crowd with his large frame, claws, and sharp teeth. Every time he tried to imitate Er'amar's grand gestures, the people winced in fear of an attack. Argan stood on his hind legs, nearly half a body taller than the largest man there, and as wide as three combined. Neither the crowd, nor those gathered from the Wizardly Union, seemed inclined to listen to his ideas. Nor did his low, gravelly voice earn their trust.” Pebble gasped in fear several times as the narrative played out in the fire.

“Both wizards went their separate ways to put together their plans for the Union. Months passed as they prepared. Er'amar spent his time with the unicorns in the plains far to the north, but where Argan resided during that time was unknown. Ursidae are extremely difficult to track, even for an eagle. They both slaved at their preparations- Er'amar attempting to make a wand, and Argan working with words. Soon, the time had come, and they appeared before the Wizardly Union in Rowain.

“Er'amar presented first, and dazzled the Union with a wand! He demonstrated how, with sheer desire, or willpower, he could make things occur. He levitated a cup across the room and into his hand with the wand. He constructed a chair out of a stack of wood sitting in the corner of the chamber. Then, to seal his proposal, he lit the chair on fire and while it burned, he roasted a pig over the flames for the feast after the presentations. The pig rotated in midair as the meeting proceeded through the other speakers.

“The final speaker to present his idea before the Union was Argan. He came to the podium with a thick, leather bound book, and at first the officials were interested. However, when they realized that it only had two pages of spoken spells written inside, they frowned and whispered amongst themselves. The Wizardly Union did not take kindly to his haggard appearance or his crude communication skills. His presentation of the magic, however, was every bit as impressive as Er'amar's, but the Union officials did not like that the words he spoke were in an unknown tongue, or that his collection of spells was so incomplete. Argan cited that his gift was new to the world, and he had no one to teach him. In the months they had to prepare, he had muddled out that much on his own.

“The Union did not listen. They refused to hear anything further on spoken spells, and dismissed him from the hall. Before he left the chamber, Argan swore to never take a mate. He would chronicle everything he learned in his life in seclusion, and let his gift be buried with him in the grave. He swore that his gift had greater potential than anything brought forth in the hall by the others. He spoke of a See-er, telling him that his gift would save millions of lives, and that he would see to it that never happened because of their ignorance. They disregarded his threats, and had Er'amar escort him out with his wand. He was angry and heartbroken, and made no attempt to resist them.”

Ero's tale was interrupted by the sound of rustling feathers and the shimmer of the shield at the door. Osric opened his eyes as an eagle swept into the room with a satchel in her beak. She placed it on the floor next to him, and a wonderful aroma of fish and herbs renewed his appetite. The eager looks on his companion's faces told him they felt the same. Osric distributed the food to his friends, while Ero presented them with beverages. He whispered strange words under his breath, and a pitcher containing a red fruit juice and another of rulha, levitated into the air and poured their contents into several steins. Osric welcomed the cup as it floated into his hands, and savored the rich, robust flavor of the steaming, dark colored liquid brewed from the bark of the rulha tree.

They enjoyed the simple meal while listening to Ero continue his story. As there were no plates or silver, they held their food in their hands and ate at their leisure. The fish had a smoky flavor, crisp on the edges and tender and moist within, and had a richness to it that both surprised and pleased them all. Osric had taken several bites before he realized he was watching the story in the fire again, rather than closing his eyes. Osric found the rulha to be well brewed; it had a satisfying, full flavor with a hint of bitterness that paired well with the fish.

The entire room erupted with laughter as Pebble dug face first into the fish Bridgett had set before him. He thoroughly enjoyed the fruit juice as well, giggling when it made bubbles in his nose as he lapped it from Bridgett's cupped hand. Gus sat apart from the group with a resentful look on his face, sipping rulha from the small mug Ero had sent his way. Osric offered him some fish, and after a moment of hesitation, he took a small piece and returned to his sulking.

All the while, Ero kept talking, and though their attention was not entirely on him as he spoke, his words stuck in their minds with surprising ease.

“Argan spent years traveling the mountains until, at last, he came to us. We shared his aversion to the rest of the walkers, and so we allowed him to take sanctuary among us. We provided him with the solitude he desired from the rest of the world, and he shared some of his knowledge of the spoken spell with us. He helped us transform these caves into what you see today. Even though we assured him that we would not share his teachings with walkers, he kept the majority of his discoveries to himself.

“Years went by as he lived among us and mastered his gift, but he kept his promise; not one eagle knew what his gift was. He was determined that it would die with him, and his book was charmed so that only those with his gift could read it. He had regular visits from the unicorns. He would barricade himself in this chamber with them each time they came, claiming that he was studying them for his craft and needed privacy. The things he could do with mere words would have amazed the world. The true extent of his knowledge is not even known by those of us who lived with him.

“A See-er came to him one night while he worked on his book. The old weasel was only with him in this cave for moments, and then he was gone. Whatever had taken place in that short time had changed Argan completely. He was happier than I had ever seen him. He stated that his time was near an end, and that he would one day be remembered by all that walked Archana. He said that no one in history would be born with his gift, and that fact filled him with joy. We inquired as to how he knew this, and his reply was, ‘one never reveals what a See-er shows him.'

“Argan was busy over the next few days, stating that he must prepare for his death so he would be remembered. He locked himself in this cave for two weeks and finished the book. Then he left us for what he called ‘a most important errand'. With a single silver coin in his paw, he vanished before our eyes, uttering words we could not understand with a wide smile on his face.” Ero turned and motioned to a shelf full of relics. In the center of the shelf was a very dusty book that he nudged with his beak. “A few hours later he returned, beaming, and set this book here. Then he retired to his bed and he died in his sleep. We have not moved the book since that day, but we have decided that it must leave with you.” Ero was looking intently at Osric.

“So, indeed, we have no way to know if any of his spoken spells actually work then?” Gus barked out loud. The hours he had sat silently by had yielded nothing that he considered proof, and his mood had not improved for it. “We are expected to leave this place with that book, and it could be nothing better than paper to wipe my nose on? How do we know that your story is even true, or if Argan really did write that book?” Ero looked at him with deep scorn and sympathy.

“Have you been paying attention to anything that has happened here?” Ero asked in a condescending manner. “Some of these things were done deliberately for your understanding of the nature of these spells.”

“A fire-telling? Bah!” Gus was not impressed with Ero's tricks, and a fire-telling was poor proof in his eyes.

“When I brought you into this chamber, I uttered two different spells. If it were not for those words, all of you would have perished as you crossed the threshold of this room. Nor did I use a wand to serve you your beverage. If more proof is what you require, I will gladly provide you with it. EXTOLLO!” Ero spoke with authority, and Gus raised up off the ground, struggling against the force which caused him to hang in midair, uncomfortable and spinning in every which direction.

Gus pulled out his wand and cast a stabilizing spell to stop himself from spinning. He puffed out his chest and glowered down at Ero from his elevated position. “Put me down, you cloud-brained piece of paun vomit!! Right NOW!!” Gus shouted, above the gasps and giggles that filled the room.

“Demitto,” Ero said, with a distinct look of satisfaction at seeing Gus' discomfort, and he was lowered gently back to the ground.

11 – The Road To Braya

Machai approached the elven ruins reluctantly. He felt much more secure on the solid expanse of stone that made up the mountain range he was entering than he had on the forsaken ship he had come south on. However, he felt a heavy sense of trepidation upon seeing the eerily quiet, crumbling structures that seemed to grow right out of the forest floor. He passed through a large archway and felt the remnants of a paved, stone road beneath his feet. Machai had traveled all over Archana, and he had never seen a place that looked as ancient as those ruins. He grumbled to the two horses pulling the creaky old wagon as he walked, kicking loose stones in front of him.

“Ye beasts be lucky to be waiting for me dockside, ye did not have to wretch ye'r last meal into the sea. But ye could have warned me about this bloody heat. Rain would be better than this blasted humidity. I be boilin' in me breeches. Where be me guide, anyway?” He came to a sudden stop at the sight of a pair of booted feet propped up on a chunk of stone that had fallen away from the wall long ago. He heard a muffled voice from the other side of the stone.

“How am I supposed to sleep with you yammerin' to yourself. I thought these damn bugs buzzin' in my ears were bad.” Machai reached one hand up toward the heavy axe slung across his back as he signaled the horses to stop, and cautiously stepped around the broken stone.

A man was stretched out on the ground; one arm rested across his face, shielding his eyes from the dappled sunlight filtering down through the trees. The leather boots, dusty from the mountain trails, were the cleanest items of the man's attire. His faded tan breeches were patched in several places, and the right sleeve of his dingy tunic looked singed, as if he had gotten a little too close to his camp fire. His shaggy hair was hard to distinguish from the mound of dirt he was using as a pillow. Machai pulled out his axe and hefted it easily in one hand.

“Tell me who ye be, or ye willn't have to worry about being awoken again.” At the implied threat to his life, the young man lifted his arm and regarded the dwarf closely. A silly grin split his face and he jumped up suddenly, causing Machai to take a step backward and look up at the much taller man.

“I am Thom, your guide, and I think I will call you Shorty. They didn't tell me you would be a dwarf. I hear you guys are as feisty as you are short. Maybe this trip up the rock won't be as bad as I feared.”

“It be in ye'r better interest to call me by Machai, or when ye be missing ye'r legs, ye'r friends will call ye Shorty,” he held the axe menacingly and glowered up at the dirty young man. Thom laughed casually and hefted his pack up onto his shoulder, turning to head deeper into the ruins.

“Alright, Machai it is, but it will be a long hike if you can't find your sense of humor.” Machai slung his axe across his back and returned for the horses, then followed Thom with the wagon rolling noisily behind them.