The Well of Strands: Osric's Wand, #3

By Jack D. ALBRECHT Jr. and Ashley Delay

There is a new master Wand-Maker on Archana, and he could be the key to understanding every mystery -- if only he would come out of hiding. Meanwhile, a new arrival brings yet another magical artifact into Osric’s hands. Seeking the answers it may contain brings valuable knowledge and terrible danger.

The war is beginning, and Osric’s small force may be the only hope of the irua race surviving. He must find a way to cope with his broken heart and rally his troops in time to save them.

Now, with love torn apart by prophecy, Bridgett must follow her own path as she seeks to help Osric succeed. Can she change the tide of the war, or will Osric lose the very essence of his being as he battles the forces that threaten their world? Dredek’s motivation is revealed, and the mystery of the wand is finally solved. Will they see the answer in time for a difference to be made, or will the dark wizard be too powerful to be stopped once his plan is in motion?

The Well of Strands is the third installment in this best-selling series. Look for all of the novels in the Osric’s Wand series--Book One: The Wand-Maker’s Debate, Book Two: The High-Wizard’s Hunt, and Book Three: The Well of Strands

Book Four: The Weaving of Wells is now available!

• Language: English
• Publisher: CoWrite LLC
• Release date: Dec 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386549260

Book preview

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1 – Chance Encounter

Osric traced a rough, whorled knot on the top of the bar and stared down into the bottom of an empty mug. The tavern was still fairly empty, but the dinner crowd would arrive soon with the change of guard. A young bard sat in the corner near the hearth tuning a lute, and Leisha was managing to simultaneously serve mead to the early arrivals, decline the advances of a persistent admirer, and flash a flirtatious smile at the bard. It was almost like old times—almost.

The bard struck up a soothing melody, and Leisha sauntered toward Osric. Without asking if he wanted a third mug of mead, she took the liberty of pouring him a cup of warm rulha. She knew how little he tended to drink, even when he warmed the stool for several hours.

Osric nodded at her gratefully and wrapped his hands around the steaming mug. He had sought out the Tipsy Tree for its familiar atmosphere, but the friendly faces and old memories weren’t doing much to lift his spirits. His friends had been expressing concern about his sulking demeanor for weeks. Although he adamantly reassured them that he was fine, Osric wasn’t entirely sure if his attitude had more to do with wanting to secure the safety of the human realm or with Bridgett’s leaving.

Only a few days after her departure, news had come that the leader of the Human Realm, the turgent, had died. The reports indicated that he had been poisoned over a long period, and Osric wasn’t surprised to hear them blame a supposed Irua spy who had worked his way up as a chamber servant over the last year. They said the assassin was killed while celebrating over the turgent’s dead body. There was no trial. The most disturbing part of it all, the part that forced Osric’s stomach into a knot, was the fact that Dredek was the newly appointed turgent. Dredek was a Konsult, a close adviser to the turgent, who had initiated the attack on Stanton a few months before and the destruction of the palace during the ratification ceremony the previous summer. The only son of the recently deceased turgent had abdicated the throne to make it available, he had said, for a man who could lead Archana into the new age. The whole situation felt very convenient and terribly wrong.

The nagging despair in his gut threatened to swallow every ounce of self-realization he had managed to gather over the last year, but he knew that he must keep his focus on victory. Yet in spite of his determined effort, he could not gain control of his emotions. He found himself frequently snapping at his companions with an uncharacteristic short temper. His jade-green eyes were empty as he watched the steam rise slowly from his cup. He had let his hair grow unkempt in recent months, and its sandy shades had darkened in the absence of sunlight and grooming.

He hadn’t let his appearance go by the wayside completely, but the care and attention he used to put into looking the role of a leader was no longer as important to him as it had once been. He looked the part of a worn, tired hunter as he sat at the end of the bar.

It had been months since Bridgett had vanished, months since the battle to save his home, but it seemed like much longer. Time had done nothing to ease the pain in his heart nor the fear that tinted his every thought.

Almost in mockery of Osric’s foul mood, the tavern carried on its nightly routine. The room smelled of burning wood, spilled ale, and mediocre roasted meat. Drinks flowed, the music carried on in a lively rhythm, and bodies moved in and out of the Tipsy Tree as if war was not hovering over the city like an ominous thunderstorm. Osric sat, completely absorbed in his own world, blocking out the noise. As Leisha topped off his mug, Osric slid a few coins across the bar and sat sullenly, ignoring the jovial crowd.

War and a woman were not the only things on his mind, for he could not outrun or defeat the fact that he was still gaining new abilities, even as he sat at the bar. No matter what he did, no matter where he went, his powers kept growing, and he had no idea why. His desire to discover the source of the changes to himself—and now, it seemed, to Kenneth as well—consumed most of his thoughts. His new powers and his knowledge in the book of spoken spells were the only weapons he could think of that could help them stop Dredek. He needed to make progress for this to happen, but his understanding of what was behind the power growth was developing too slowly to be of any help.

Osric had spent much of his time recently locked away in a small room he had set up in the old Vigile barracks. A small wooden table and stool accompanied him in his makeshift workshop. There, undisturbed, he had spent hours every day examining his wand. First, he attempted to probe deeper with the Wand-Maker’s sight using the increased power that came with each additional gift. Then he tried placing various books behind the wand, hoping that the difference in background colors would provide a contrast that would allow him to see something he might have previously missed. All attempts were met with a frustrating lack of results.

In the months since they had started recruiting people to their cause, magical breakthroughs had been happening all around him. Some of the brightest minds in the realm were working to decode the wonders of magic, which taught them many things. They learned how communication spells worked and how spoken spells differed from those cast by wands. Osric learned how his different abilities had started to interact in ways he could never have imagined, since each individual had always been limited to one innate ability—one measure of magic.

Osric struggled to comprehend the value of their progress. While he had started to glean much excitement from his situation, he longed to lead a slower existence. He craved silence and sought it out on a regular basis. Yet solitude could not be found at the barracks; he was too well known, too often recognized, and too damned important to the advancement of magical knowledge. Lately, Gus had made a point of giving him that very lecture on a daily basis. Osric stared at his steaming cup of rulha, knowing that he had an earful waiting for him when he returned, knowing that others wanted to study him, and knowing at his core that Gus’s words were correct. Osric hated it, but he knew it was true. Somewhere between the new understanding of magic and the knowledge of how Osric was gaining his powers was the key to unlocking the potential of his abilities, but the demands of his fame were rapidly taking their toll.

He sat, absorbed in his foul mood and trying to invent reasons for his absence. The tavern was growing busier. Tables began to overflow, but still the stool beside him sat vacant. Osric managed to ignore the revelry around him as he drifted in his thoughts. The fire was stoked higher and the wall sconces were lit, when the sky grew darker and the light from the small windows became too meager to see by.

Osric glanced up as Leisha took his mug. He was no longer alone at the end of the bar. A very large ursidae had taken up the seat beside him. Surprisingly silent for his mass, he was sipping gently and cheerfully on the brim of a dainty teacup. Osric managed not to laugh in surprise.

The sight of the creature—covered in thick brown fur with sharp claws and teeth bared in a wide grin, gently savoring the smell and taste of a steaming cup of tea—brought Osric out of his solemn musings. The huge bear looked around with wide-eyed excitement at the rowdy conversations, music, and dancing going on about him. Osric’s attention lingered a bit too long and caught the attention of the newcomer.

Oh, I hope I didn’t disturb you. I’ve been anxious to see this place and this was the only free seat. As you can tell, I do demand a fairly large area to get comfortable.

Osric cocked his head at the pleasantness in the creature’s low voice. He wasn’t sure how to reply to the greeting. The ursidae he had seen in the fire telling in the caves of D’pareth didn’t sound anything like the one sitting next to him. That ursidae was terribly disgruntled, and every intonation, every inflection of his words colored Osric’s impressions of a race he had known for a lifetime. Maybe it was the fact that he had not talked with an ursidae since the vision, or maybe it was merely a side effect of the tainted attitude he had walked into the tavern with, but his mind simply couldn’t process the change. His befuddled expression caught the ursidae’s attention.

I guess I must have disturbed you. The massive bear glanced at the hilt of Osric’s sword with interest as he stood up. I apologize for the disruption. Please excuse my intrusion.

No, please sit down. I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Osric called over to Leisha and ordered them both a refill. What brings you to Stanton?

Well, I’m a merchant of sorts, so business takes me everywhere. But to be honest, I’ve heard some interesting tales about this city recently, and I just couldn’t help but come see it for myself.

I can only imagine what you have heard.

Fascinating stories, truly. Have you been here long? Do you know much about what has happened here this past year?

Osric grimaced slightly at the memories of his hometown being attacked, invaded, and nearly destroyed.

Yes, actually. I grew up here. As he said it, Osric wished he could take it back, but the damage was done.

Really? Wonderful. Would you mind me asking you a few questions?

The idea of facing Gus and his impending scorn held little appeal, so Osric decided a brief conversation would be better than returning to the barracks.

Sure. I have a few minutes to spare.

I don’t even know where to begin. Perhaps you could tell me about the palace. I noticed on my way into town that the new construction is nearly finished.

The inquiry caused Osric’s mind to flash back to the moments before the explosion. He had been trying to locate the threat that his Portentist ability had alerted him to, but he had been too late. He had survived, thanks to the timely intervention of a unicorn and a great deal of luck, but hundreds had perished in the resulting collapse. Ever since that day, Osric had been chasing down one clue or another in an attempt to seek justice for the attack. He gritted his teeth and attempted to answer the question without succumbing to his emotional turmoil.

The attack was sudden and unexpected. It basically leveled the building during the ratification ceremony last year. Very few made it out alive. A deep, familiar sadness filled Osric’s voice as he struggled with the memories.

That’s terrible. And then the Kallegian came?

Yes, but we had some time to rebuild before then. The city was just starting to put itself back together when the turgent’s elite forces showed up. Osric knew that the Kallegian had been sent as a result of his investigation. He had attempted to thwart Dredek’s plans one time too many, and his city had paid the price. He had only later discovered the truth about the Konsult, but even at the time of the invasion he had suspected that the turgent was merely a puppet under the control of his devious adviser. You should know that the battle against the Kallegian was not an act of rebellion against the turgent, as it must seem to some from around the realm. They were being misled by their, uh, commander. I don’t think the turgent was behind the orders.

I have heard a few people say that the battle was treason against the realm, but I have heard more people say that there must be something more going on that no one knows about.

Good. I wouldn’t want people thinking that Stanton’s honest citizens are traitors.

No, no, of course not. But I have heard even more exciting news, the bear leaned in closer and his voice grew soft, about the overgrown barracks on the west side of town.

Oh? What have you heard?

I hear that they are operating in secret, deep under the earth. I hear that thousands of the most intelligent minds have been recruited, and they’ve managed to unravel all of the secrets magic holds. His voice grew excited as he continued to ramble. They have been seen flying without the aid of winged creatures, disappearing from one place and appearing on the other side of the world in a moment, and they can put thoughts into a person’s mind without them even knowing they are being manipulated.

Osric laughed out loud, wondering how such rumors could have spread so far for a stranger to hear them all.

Those are fascinating tales. I’m sorry to tell you that they were invented by creative minds, not witnessed by honest eyes.

Of course they aren’t true. Do you think I am a fool? What I find so fascinating is that someone would think to base such a wild story on the barracks of Stanton. There must be something special about them to inspire such absurdities.

A wise observation. Osric was glad to hear that not everyone believed what he heard. What type of trade are you in?

Oh, trinkets mostly. A few magical oddities here and there. The bear’s gaze drifted again to Osric’s sword. That’s quite the lovely piece you have there. Where did you get it, if you don’t mind my asking?

The sword was my father’s. A friend of mine did some work on it for me as a gift.

It’s beautiful work. If you ever decide to part with it, I would be very interested in purchasing it.

That won’t happen, said Osric. But I will pass on your praise. Jane was always thrilled to hear that her art was admired.

So, what do you do?

Recently, I’ve been doing some teaching. Osric felt a tinge of guilt that he was deliberately withholding his identity, but it felt refreshing to engage in a genuine conversation without anyone expecting him to solve an impossible puzzle—or worse, address dozens of questions and requests at any given moment.

A noble engagement. One who has knowledge and fails to pass it on neglects his obligation to the future.

I hadn’t really thought of it that way.

Sure. I find that acquiring knowledge is the most valuable pursuit. Although, what one does with such knowledge is more a mark of his character than how much he has learned.

I imagine you have learned much of value in your travels. I would like to introduce you to some friends of mine. What’s your name friend? Osric smiled.

Orson. He offered his paw.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Orson. I’m Osric. They shook hands as the bear’s eyes went wide in recognition. The delicate teacup clattered to the bar, breaking into several pieces as realization took hold.

2 – A Good Deal

Osric led the way along the road toward the palace. Orson had recovered his composure quickly, and he readily agreed to go with him. The night was warm and fragrant with summer flowers, and as they walked, Orson commented on the various sights of the city. Ahead, in the distance, they could see the lights of the palace, but Osric turned and led them down a narrow lane into the residential area of Stanton.

You looked surprised to hear my name. Have you heard stories about me as well?

Something of the sort. I actually met a friend of yours on my journey here.

Really? Who was that?

A charming fellow named Ero. He was interested in some of my wares. When I told him I was headed here, he told me I should seek you out.

Was there anything in particular that he thought I could do for you?

Actually, I believe he thought you would like to take a look at my inventory. A hint of hesitation was evident in Orson’s voice, and Osric could sense conflicting emotions of admiration and doubt from the ursidae. He was still learning to discern someone’s feelings with his Empath ability, and he wasn’t sure what Ero might have said to the stranger. He mentioned that you could probably tell me more about my wares than I already know, but only if I tell you about how I find them.

If Ero insists, I am sure I would be interested to hear all about it. Though, I don’t want you to feel coerced. If you do share information about your inventory with me, you should only do so willingly.

Thank you, Osric, he said, emanating a distinct feeling of relief.

Why don’t we wait until my companions have joined us. Osric opened the door to his house and invited Orson inside. No sooner had they sat in the kitchen with refreshments than Kenneth and Gus came through the door.

It’s about time you dragged yourself out of that tavern. You know, we could have used your help today, and all you do is sit there drinking all day like a louse. Gus scampered up onto a kitchen chair, favoring one hind leg, and glared over at Osric. Orson stood, crouching to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, expectant of introductions. He looked a bit uncomfortable in the small home that Osric had recently thought of as spacious.

I apologize for my untimely absence. Gus, this is Orson. Orson, this incorrigible prairie dog is Gus, and this is Kenneth. Osric waited for the pleasantries to be exchanged before he continued. Where is Machai?

We had another report of unusual landslides in the hills west of here. He took a unit of Vigiles to go investigate.

Well, if there is anything suspicious behind the activity, Machai will surely discover it. Osric turned his attention back to the ursidae. Orson was told to seek me out by Ero. Gus’s demeanor changed noticeably at the mention of the eagle.

Ero sent you here, did he? asked Gus. What can we do for you?

That’s just it. I think he wanted me to do something for you, but I don’t know what. Orson shrugged his massive, furry shoulders.

You mentioned that Ero said you should tell us about your work. Let’s start there, Osric encouraged.

Ah, yes. Well, I learned a long time ago that when something is lost it is often forgotten. I use my ability to find things that have been lost. Since they have been forgotten, I find them a new home.

So, you sell other people’s stuff? Kenneth sounded amused.

Not exactly. Oftentimes, the original owner is long dead. Sometimes the items have been abandoned.

So how do you find them? Gus’s ears were quivering with curiosity.

I just go around old ruins and such and see what I can dig up.

So you just start making a mess of the decrepit surroundings like you own the place? Kenneth smiled. Just start at the edge of town and dig until you find something shiny? That sounds like a long and weary day to me.

Nothing like that at all. I look into the stone and find its weaknesses and strengths. I can move stone safely and find the easiest route deeper into a structure—

You have Stone-Sight? Osric interrupted, leaning forward. His surprise caused his voice to be louder than he had intended. Orson nodded an affirmative. Osric vividly recalled days spent with his father before he was killed. He also had Stone-Sight for his ability, and Osric wished he had learned more about his father’s gift before his parents were killed. Though he knew his parents’ deaths had honorably provided nourishment for a family of lions, he often wished he hadn’t lost them so young. He quickly brought his thoughts back to the situation at hand. Orson, you seemed hesitant to tell me about where you found the items you sell. Why is that?

Well, sometimes there aren’t any ruins around, and a bear has to eat, right? Orson shrugged.

You steal what you can’t find and then you sell it? Gus seemed untroubled by the idea.

"Steal is such a strong word. I like to think of it as relocating goods to a better home." He moved his paws in a sweeping motion, mimicking the distribution of goods.

Just how profitable is this business of yours? Osric could see why he had been hesitant to divulge his methods.

Lately, not profitable enough. I manage to get from one location to another just fine, but I would be hard-pressed to settle down on my earnings.

How would you like to put that gift of yours to a more honest use? Osric smiled as he leaned back in his chair, watching Gus’s glare with a hint of satisfaction.

What do you have in mind?

I think I might know what Ero wanted you to help us with, but why don’t you show me those wares you mentioned and we can discuss it more later. Osric stood quickly, trying to determine why he felt such a strong urge to recruit Orson into their fold. It may have been a desire to be close to a gift that reminded him of his father, or maybe one of his gifts was urging him in unexpected ways, but he could not say.

Of course. They are back at the inn near the tavern. Orson crossed the room with his back hunched and ducked through the doorway, leading his new companions to his cart. At the mention of the tavern, Gus shot Osric a glare and then scampered up his shoulder to hitch a ride. Osric ignored the glance, and Gus spoke quietly in his ear as he walked.

Why are you so sure this big brute can help us? Gus’s hunched frame grew as defiant as any prairie dog could. The wrath in his eyes could have burned a hole in Osric’s face. Two new scars marked his leg, signifying his inability to attract an accurate hunter’s eye—a fact that only intensified his angry appearance.

Gus, I’m learning that when my Empath and Trust abilities insist someone is genuine and trustworthy, I can believe it. I am not sure if he will be able to help us in the manner I hope, but I know we can trust him. I have a very strong feeling that he is exactly where he is supposed to be.

Great. Our cause is now relying on your feelings?

If I can’t use my new abilities to help us, then what is the point of all this?

Fine, but I’m not convinced you know how to use them yet. There are too many unknowns now that we can see your abilities interacting with each other. Don’t hold me responsible if you misread indigestion as an urge to recruit a group of bandits who kill us all. Gus stared defiantly ahead at Orson’s back. Kenneth chuckled openly at the exchange, while Orson looked back at the two with a bit of insecurity. Osric could discern a sense of conflict between the big bear’s emotions and thoughts; anxiety and excitement clung to him like a wet cloak.

Orson led them to the stables behind an inn near the Tipsy Tree. He slipped a coin to a young man just inside and headed to a private stall in the back. Inside was a small rickety cart, covered by a canvas. He drew a wand from a pouch at his neck and silently cast a spell to counter whatever enchantments were protecting his goods. He untied the knots securing the cover with another spell and pulled the canvas away.

The cart contained a massive chest with tarnished but elaborate brass hinges and locks. With his large, clawed paws, Orson pulled two keys from his pouch and unlocked the chest with surprising deftness. He lifted the lid and stepped aside. Gus scurried off of Osric’s shoulder and perched on the edge of the chest, peering down inside to inspect the contents.

Did Ero mention any items specifically that he thought I would want to see? Osric looked down into the chest with keen curiosity.

Not specifically. He handled a few of my rarer objects, but he didn’t seem particularly interested in any one thing.

Osric activated his Wand-Maker’s ability, which allowed him to see strands of magic in inanimate objects, as well as living beings. All magic came from within the world in the form of thin strands, which through his ability looked like bright strings of colored light. He was immediately inundated with a collage of color emanating from a variety of objects. Some of the items were the typical trinkets one would expect to see in a merchant’s cart—wands of every model imaginable, jewelry, knives, small statuettes, and children’s toys—but a few of the objects surprised him. Osric reached into the chest and withdrew a dagger and a ring. He placed them on the rough wood of the cart.

Those are both Elven-made. Gus eyed the two items with blatant appreciation. Just your typical protection spells, though. Although, they’re pretty strong, judging by the density of strands woven into them. Gus was also using the Wand-Maker’s ability to inspect the items. He had taught Osric how to activate and use the gift when they discovered he had somehow acquired the ability. Like everyone else on Archana, Osric had been born with one gift. His gift was the Portentist ability, but over the past year he had mysteriously begun developing dozens more.

Osric’s attention was pulled back to the chest by another object that seemed out of place. He reached in and retrieved a heavy stone, the size of his palm and pale grey in color, and lifted it away from the other items. A heavy thrumming resonated from his Portentist gift, sending chills coursing through his body. His vision grew sharp, smells intensified, and he could feel every curve, indentation, crack, and grain of dust that was part of the stone. There was no doubt in his mind he had found something incredibly important or powerful, but the jumble of strands were woven tightly and attached to the stone in a way he had never seen before.

No amount of power sent through the Wand-Maker’s gift would allow his vision to pierce the veil of layered strands or allow him to see what was contained inside the cocoon that held the spell. He was fascinated with the object. It appeared to be a normal rock, yet his gifts all demanded that there was far more to it than that. Even without his gifts, the stone tricked his physical senses as well. The weight of it was oddly too heavy, and yet he lifted it with an ease that belied its heft.

Where did you find this, Orson? Osric spoke slowly while running his hand over the stone.

Eh, let me think. He scratched his cheek with one sharp claw as he pondered. I do believe I picked that one up in a cave.

A cave? Can you recall where the cave was located?

Sure, sure. Interesting story, actually. I was up to the north and east of here some months back. I got caught in a terrible snowstorm and took refuge inside a small cave. Being me, I started looking around at the stone. I tucked that rock into the chest because it had such an odd appearance, you see? When I look at that stone with my ability, it is completely flawless. Yet, with my own eyes I can see structural flaws that should indicate weak spots within the stone. Strangest thing. Orson shook his head and peered at the rock with an expression of distrust. I’ve never seen a stone that could trick my sight, so I couldn’t just leave it lying there.

Gus dragged his own eyes from the odd rock and looked up at the big bear.

This thing was just lying on the ground in an empty cave? Kenneth asked with surprise in his voice.

Well, not exactly. The cave was concealed quite effectively. Had I not been able to scan the mountainside with my gift, I never would have found the entrance. And it wasn’t empty, Orson added.

Gus’s ears quivered at the implications that other mysterious items had been found along with the stone. I discovered a stash of scrolls in a niche in the wall, several well-made weapons, and a few changes of clothing in the cave as well. Everything else has long since sold, though. No one seems to want a strange rock.

I would be interested in studying it further. How much do you want for it? Osric asked.

I will make you a deal. You study that thing for a while and tell me what you discover, and we can haggle over price later.

So, you want me to tell you how much it is worth before you tell me what you will take for it? Osric grinned at the sly attempt. He was surprised that Orson had