The Wand-Maker's Debate: Osric's Wand: Book One (23 page)

“It's beautiful.” Osric stopped looking long enough to steal a fleeting glace at Bridgett and smile.

“Focus boy!” Gus barked

Osric returned his attention to the wands, and a thought occurred to him,
what do the magical fibers within someone look like?
Then, without thinking, he turned his gaze toward Gus, to be greeted with a shower of dirt thrown at his face.

“Ah!” He fell to his side, rubbing grit from his closed eyes, completely caught off guard by the attack.

“You don't look at another with the gift, unless they are infants, or they give you permission, boy!”

“Why didn't you just say that!”

Gus smirked menacingly at a very angry Osric. “I could tell you all day, but will you ever forget now?” He turned toward Bridgett and added, “This is more fun, anyway.”

“Gus! What is wrong with you?” Bridgett demanded, as she watched Pebble from her perch on the fallen tree.

Once the pain had eased and his eyes were clear of enough debris to open them, Osric stood up. He managed to overcome his desire to do bodily harm to Gus, and brought his attention back to the wands.

“Look at them,” Gus indicated the two wands lying side by side, “they are virtually identical. The weave is the same. The constriction is at the same point, and they are even made from the same wood. There is nothing remarkable about your wand!”

He was right, other than Osric's wand being slightly longer, they looked exactly the same. Osric stood there, peering within the wands, for what felt like an eternity. He lost himself within the gift, but no matter how hard he looked, he could not find the answer. Osric couldn't understand it; there had to be something different about his wand. It didn't make any sense. He had heard the prophecy; he knew that it was special; he just couldn't see it. He glanced up at Bridgett, and looking at her seemed to ease some of his frustration. She had an introspective look on her face.

“Maybe it isn't the wand that is different, Osric. Maybe it is you.” She smiled sadly at him, glad the tension seemed to have broken between him and Gus, at least for the moment.

Gus interrupted, drawing Osric's attention away from her once again, “That can't be it, I examined him, remember? He's strange, but I don't know why everyone thinks he is so special. You are beautiful, my dear, but it would be nice if he could keep his eyes off of you for one moment, and maybe we could actually accomplish something!”

Osric was so sick of the insulting little rodent making comments about him and Bridgett. Gus had no right to treat them that way. He cared more for her than he was willing to admit, and he couldn't stand there and listen to Gus embarrass her. Rather than kick him into the woods, Osric quickly backed away.

He could see Kenneth walking back,
at least we will be able to eat soon, I am starving.
Then realization and horror filled Osric as he noticed the rabbit in his hand,
the vision!
Kenneth noticed the look on his face and reached for his bow. He had an arrow notched by the time Osric had his left hand on his sword. Osric dove right and swung up with all of his might, letting the swing draw the blade from its scabbard. He felt the blade slice through something he could not see. The force of the swing sent him spinning in the air, and he heard Kenneth's arrow hit its mark, but he wasn't sure if they had killed it. Osric fell awkwardly, face down in the dirt, and scrambled to get up as he heard Bridgett scream.

Osric stood and swung around with his sword, ready to strike, but the thing lay dead on the ground. His blade had severed the head at the neck, yet Kenneth's bow shot must have arrived at the same time, as the head was held in place with the shaft of the arrow. Its right arm lay a few feet from Kenneth, separated from its body by Osric's sword as it was decapitated. It was a beast he had never seen before. Thick muscles wrapped tightly around its body, and its pale grey skin shone with sweat. Sparse patches of dark grey fur were scattered along its body, thickest on the long, thin limbs. Claws the length of his wand came from the hands and feet and looked as sharp as his sword blade, and the creature's teeth were like small, jagged daggers in appearance. Whatever it was, it was a predator.

He crouched low to make himself less visible, and crept slowly toward his companions. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted by another one of those creatures. He stopped suddenly as Gus and Bridgett gasped in surprise. They were staring at the ground behind him, with looks of astonishment on their faces.
Another one?!
Osric turned around, swinging his sword in a graceful arc, and crying out to put as much force behind his swing as possible. His blade only encountered air, and he turned back to them, breathing heavily.

“Where did you go, boy?” Gus' ears twitched wildly as he looked around in confusion.

“What you are talking about?” Osric looked at him questioningly, and stepped toward Gus quickly. Gus scrambled back, staring at the leaves at Osric's feet. “Gus, what's wrong with you?”

“Boy, either you are invisible, or there is a ghost here with an unnerving ability to mimic your voice.” Osric looked down the length of his body in surprise, as his eyes took in only the wet leaves and twigs upon which he stood. Being unable to see himself was decidedly odd, and he felt a nervous flutter in his stomach. Just as the thought that he needed to be visible to lead the group passed through his mind, his form came back into view. Gus rushed over to him, as Bridgett scooped Pebble up into her arms and ran toward them.

“Osric, how did you do that?” Bridgett asked.

“I have no idea! But I don't want to be standing here discussing it when another one of those things show up.” Osric indicated the ugly creature at their feet, “We need to leave, now!” He hurriedly started collecting his pack, and motioned that the others should do the same. “Hurry, grab ahold of me and I will take us as far as I can tonight before it is too dark to see. Have any of you seen a creature like that before?”

“I don't think anyone has, but I am pretty sure I know what it is.” Gus stared at the beast in shock.

“What is it?” Kenneth picked up his gear and stood beside Osric, ready to leave.

“I've seen the aftermath of these creatures before. The claws, and those teeth! I believe we are the first to witness one die.”

“What is it?!” Osric was not in the mood for one of Gus' lengthy explanations.

“I think it's a paun, and you are right, boy, we must leave fast. Who knows if those things travel alone or in packs!” Kenneth picked Gus up quickly and hoisted him onto his shoulder for the trip.

Osric grabbed Bridgett and Kenneth's hands, looking around them in fear, “Eo ire itum!”

16 – Braya Volcano

As they came around a final curve, Machai saw a huge tree hugging the face of the mountain. Its trunk was so big, it would have taken eight of him to encircle it with his arms. Its massive roots had broken off chunks of stone from the volcano, and they lay scattered at its base like bones at an altar. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement off to the left. What he had thought was a large boulder sitting next to the tree revealed itself to be the dragon Thom had warned him about. Its tail was wrapped about the trunk, and tangled among the loose stones, like the horrible aftermath of a giant sea serpent amongst the wreckage of a ship dashed upon the rocks. The dragon was the same sorrel hue as the volcano, and difficult to discern unless he moved. His long, sinuous neck terminated in a head nearly as large as the wagon, and the horses snorted and pawed at the ground, refusing to traverse any closer to the vast predator.

Machai halted with the horses and stared, enchanted, as the dragon swung its head around to watch him with one swirling gold eye. He was sure that if the order were given, the massive beast would thoroughly enjoy devouring him. Yet, looking into the dragon's eye gave him such an impression of sorrow and solitude that his heart ached for the creature. He felt so much empathy for the beast that he had to look away, lest he wander unwittingly within its reach.

Machai turned away, and busied himself with calming the horses, while Thom walked right past the dragon and disappeared into the rock wall behind the tree, twirling his bone wand in his hand and whistling. A few moments later, Thom returned, accompanied by an older man and carrying two large canvas sacks. He dropped the bags near the cart with the noticeable sound of clinking coin, and leaned one hip against the rear wheel. He obviously did not want to miss the unveiling of Machai's load of weapons.

“Thank you, Thom.” Aron was a tall man, the lines of his age and profession etched clearly on his face. His steel grey hair was cropped close to his head, and faded into a short beard on his square jaw. Machai guessed him to be in his early sixties, but his broad shoulders and straight posture indicated he may have been younger. “You are dismissed. I am sure you have duties to attend to elsewhere.” Aron arched one eyebrow at the sullen pout on Thom's face as he eyed the wagon, and Thom straightened quickly and headed back to the entrance, kicking a stone at the dragon as he passed and then breaking into a run to avoid a swipe of its massive tail. Aron glared at Thom's back as he watched him disappear behind the tree trunk, and then turned his eyes upon Machai. “I expected your delivery four days ago, did you run into trouble?” His keen gaze was disconcerting, and Machai busied himself unlashing the ties on the canvas tarp covering the wagon.

“Aye, an ugly storm three days into a forsaken sail, and more rain an' mud than I ever expected to slog through. Ye'r lucky I be only four days behind.” He pulled the canvas back, revealing saddle bags half emptied of their supplies, and two hundred of the finest dwarven blades ever crafted. He heard Aron's sharp intake of breath as he pulled one of the blades from the wagon and handed it to him. He held the blade out before him, testing its perfect weight and balance, and carved an arc through the air. Aron was relishing the feel of the sword in his grip, but he looked perplexed when Machai glanced back up at him.

“How do you activate it?” Machai was tempted to tell him to figure it out himself, but the edge of the blade was sharp enough to take his head off with ease, even without utilizing the sword's magical properties imbued by the metal masters who forged them. As much as he hated delivering dwarven weapons into the hands of humans, he decided it would be best to keep the meeting short and pleasant.

“You be using it by focused intent, similar to ye'r wand. The blood stones be forged into the hilts. Focus on the feel of the metal in ye'r hand, and
intend
to ignite the blade.” Aron scrutinized him with doubt, but as he focused his attention back on the sword, the blade began to glow red. Machai could feel the heat radiating from the metal and stepped back several paces. The red glow brightened slowly and soon the edge of the blade was white hot. Aron stepped away from the wagon, walked slowly and deliberately toward the massive tree, and raised the sword up over his right shoulder. Machai thought he intended to sever a low branch from the tree, but he turned suddenly and brought the sword down at an angle, dropping low and sweeping his left leg out to his side in a graceful motion. The blade bit deep into the tough hide of the dragon's foreleg and he screamed with fury and pain. A huge gout of flame poured forth from his throat, directed into the air rather than at his cruel captor. Aron stood for a moment, as though he was testing the beast to see if he would retaliate, and give him an excuse to punish the other dragons. The angry dragon growled low and menacingly, but he did not make a move against his attacker. Aron walked back to Machai and the wagon, mentally withdrawing his attention from the sword, and grinning widely as the blade rapidly cooled to a high metallic sheen, giving no indication it was any different than the short sword at his hip.

“Very impressive, dwarf. It is rare to find a blade which so easily penetrates dragon hide.” Machai grunted in disgust at the look of pleasure plastered on the man's face after seeing the destructive potential of the two hundred weapons he had just acquired. Machai gritted his teeth against the rage building within him, and tore his eyes from the temptation of the swords in the wagon. Any man who would be so cruel to another creature deserved to die an agonizing death, but Machai could not be sure how many men would swarm from the volcano for vengeance the moment the blade touched Aron's throat, and another would surely take his place to torture the dragons.

“Aye.” Had he said anything more, he would have told Aron exactly what he was thinking, but he managed to rein in his tongue. Climbing up onto the wagon hitch, Machai took a mental inventory as he emptied the supplies from one set of saddle bags into the other to make room for the payment. He attempted to control his temper, and changed the subject. “Can I be getting more supplies from ye? That dockside market smelled worse than a drogma's breath after munchin' on fish guts.”

“I have many mouths to feed, but I can sell you enough rations to get you by. You are taking a hefty bit of coin off my hands for these weapons, though, I won't be inclined to give you a good price.”

“I need only some mash for the horses to regain strength, and ten days or so of rations for meself to make up for the time I be losing.”

“I will have what you need brought out, and horses brought around to move this wagon. Make yourself comfortable, just don't wander too close to the dragon.” He placed the blade gently back into the wagon with the others and walked away. Machai unhitched the horses from the wagon. It was apparent that he was not going to be let anywhere near the inside of the volcano. Not even his horses would be allowed in to complete the delivery. He opened the heavy sacks Thom had dropped on the ground, and satisfied that there was a sufficient amount of gold, he threw them in with his supplies and the swords. He lead the horses around to the back of the wagon, dropped the gate and pulled himself up. Standing on the open gate, he hoisted the saddle bags onto their backs to prepare for his return journey.