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

by Delay, Ashley

  Aron and Thom passed through the east gate of the inner wall and began their climb through the wealthier parts of the city. The shops that lined the upper roads were well maintained and there was an obvious presence of guards patrolling the streets. The homes were large, the tenants were wealthy merchants and minor nobility, and the air smelled of the sea. One more wall lie between the two men and their destination. The palace was surrounded by a high, stone wall with a guard walk above and a wide moat below. Even if one could get across the water alive, and it was hard to say what might be lurking beneath the surface, scaling the wall would be impossible. A thin sheen of water cascaded down the stone surface with no obvious source atop the walls. Legend had it that several wizards with the Water Elemental gift had been sacrificed in the building of the city’s defenses, but it was more likely that the masonry guild employed them to maintain the spells around on the walls. What appeared to be a delicate trickle following the crevices in the stone became a gushing torrent of scalding water the moment the walls were touched with malicious intent. No one had ever successfully made it past the walls without entering through the gate.

  Aron and Thom approached the palace walls confidently via a lowered bridge. The guards posted at the gate halted them and demanded to know their names and business there.

  “My name and position are of no concern to you, but you can report that I am here from the second outposting. I have important information for the Turgent and his advisors,” Aron stated in a condescending tone. The guards looked doubtful, but with one look at the faded insignia on Aron’s uniform and the threatening look in his eyes, they allowed them to pass through the gate.

  “Wait here, Sir, while I send for a guide to take you to the palace.” One of them gestured to the entrance to the guardhouse at the side of the gate, and he ordered a young boy with a slightly oversized palace uniform to ‘do his duty.’ The boy ran off toward the palace and Aron smiled. He knew exactly what the guard meant, but someone who had stolen the uniform and was only pretending to be one of the Turgent’s men wouldn’t. The boy would report to the palace exactly what Aron had said and what he looked like. A few moments later, two heavily armed palace guards came striding down the path from the palace. One of them sneered as he came to a stop before Aron.

  “Just as ugly as ever.” He nodded at the guards.

  “Still running errands for the palace, Gon? I’m surprised they even let you carry a sword,” Aron retorted. Having had their identity confirmed, the gate guards nodded and returned their attention to their post.

  “I hear you blew another assignment. Not that I’m surprised,” Gon said, leading them back the way he had come.

  “You always were one for womanly gossip. I have need to report to the Turgent and his Konsults. Get me an audience,” Aron demanded.

  “That’s not going to happen. The Turgent hasn’t taken audiences in months. He has delegated all military business to Konsult Dredek. I will request an audience for you with him, when I get around to it,” Gon said. Aron stopped walking and grabbed Gon by the front of his uniform.

  “Listen to me, you decrepit cur. I don’t like seeing you again any more than you like seeing me, but I will pass this information on within moments of entering that palace or I will inform Konsult Dredek of your intention to prevent the Turgent’s hearing of it, instead.” The second guard had drawn his sword and stood menacingly close to Aron, but he did not seem to mind the outburst. Aron released his grip on Gon and resumed his walk to the palace entrance. Gon glared at the back of Aron’s head, but he stayed silent and Thom grinned at the tension between the men. As they entered the palace, Gon left them to head to the guard quarters without him while he informed Konsult Dredek of their arrival.

  They had just enough time to reach the guard quarters and change into new uniforms when a young man with recruit insignia arrived to tell them Konsult Dredek wanted to see them immediately. Aron glared at Thom and told him to keep his mouth shut, and then they followed the recruit to the Konsult’s office.

  They were led down a long hallway past the dining hall, guest chambers, and reception rooms. The recruit turned into the Turgent’s throne room and led them through a door behind the dais. It opened into a small chamber with a desk and a few chairs, and another door stood on the far wall.

  “The Konsult will be with you shortly,” the young recruit said, nodding as he ducked back out of the room. Thom paced the room nervously and Aron sat in a chair, resisting the temptation to prop his feet up on the desk. He stood quickly, nearly upsetting the chair, when Konsult Dredek entered the room from the far door. His cold, grey eyes scanned the room quickly and then landed on Aron with a stern glare.

  “I hope, for your sake, you have a good explanation for your presence,” Dredek spoke with an unusual inflection. Thom cringed at the Konsult’s threatening tone that complemented his intimidating stature. He was over a head taller than Aron, with long, silver hair hanging in a tight braid down his back. His heavy, black robes brushed the floor as he strode across the room. “Your incompetence has cost me much.”

  “We were ambushed at Braya and barely made it off the mountain alive,” Aron spoke softly with as much reverence as he could muster.

  “Unfortunately for me, you obviously managed,” Konsult Dredek responded dryly. “The reports I am getting from my men are quite disturbing. How is it that the dragons are refusing to respond to the summons of our troops, and yet you stand here before me, whining pathetically about being ambushed?”

  “We were attacked by a, um, well an armed force assisted by eagles and the dragons themselves. The few men that were stationed with me didn’t stand a chance against them.” Aron cringed, wishing he did not have to reveal his own inadequacies. “They freed the dragons, Sir.”

  “Who freed the dragons, Aron? Who could possibly recruit the beasts of the air to rally against us?”

  “A very powerful wizard, Sir. He wielded magic like I have never seen before. He never told me his name, but I heard his companions call him Osric.”

  “Osric?” Dredek grabbed Aron by his neck and his voice came out as a hiss. “Are you certain they called him Osric?”

  “I am certain. Do you know of him?”

  “He was supposed to have died in the palace.” Dredek gazed back at Aron with contempt. “Yet, he was in Stanton the day I heard of our little transportation issue. There is no way he could have made it to Braya and back you idiot!” Dredek shoved Aron against the wall with little effort. “Do you think I am stupid enough to believe your tale? Did you release the dragons just to spite me and my carefully laid plans?”

  “No, Sir.” Aron forced the words out from his bruised throat. He is much stronger than he looks, Aron thought, as he tried desperately to breathe. “I swear it was him. He was nearly as tall as you, and he wore the uniform of a Vigile. For some reason, the eagles and the dragons assisted him in attacking the mountain. His men fought for him with no regard for their own safety, and they moved faster than I have ever seen a human, or a dwarf, move. It was as though there were three of each of them, as quickly as they could move from one place to another. Osric and a prairie dog wizard somehow managed to unbind the spell that contained the dragons. He opened the cages and set them free, and they hunted us all the way here. My only thought was that I must survive long enough to bring this information to you.”

  “Unbind the spell? That’s not possible. No human that I know of can unbind magic. Certainly not a spell as powerful and ancient as the wards on the Braya cages.” Konsult Dredek sneered in a hushed tone. His eyes widened in surprise and a look of realization graced his sharp features briefly. Dredek eyed Aron suspiciously before releasing his grip on his throat, then he turned his sharp gaze on Thom. “What do you have to say? Has your commander left anything out from his ridiculous story?” Thom swallowed harshly before he responded.

  “No, Sir. That is exactly how it occurred. It would be my pleasure to hunt down Osric and his men and return to you with t
heir heads for their insolence.” Dredek’s eyes narrowed slightly at the obvious blood lust in Thom’s voice.

  “If your story is true, I doubt very much that you would be an effective weapon against such a wizard. However, I may have some use for you.”

  “Please, Sir.” Aron rubbed his neck while he plead. “Anything you ask, I will do. I want to redeem myself for my failing you.”

  “I can’t trust your ability as a commander, but I will have need of information about Osric and his men.” Dredek gestured for Aron to sit in a chair before the desk. “When I kill Osric, and I assure you I will kill him, would you like to be there?”

  “Yes, Sir, of course. I wish to serve you any way I can, and I would very much like to see that man’s death for what he has done,” Aron replied assertively.

  “In that case, I will give you the opportunity to redeem yourself. My power grows daily; soon I shall be in a position that no man, even the likes of him, can defeat. When the time comes, he will die for his actions against us. I think you men have the proper motivation to be a part of that.” Dredek pulled a map from a desk drawer and spread it open on the surface before Aron. Thom leaned in to get a better view. Dredek traced a long finger over an area of the landscape. “My troops are stationed here. They are in position to serve my purposes, but they are not yet well enough armed to fulfill their mission.” He shifted his gaze to Aron. “We will soon receive another shipment of the Dwarven blades you so skillfully lost, and then we will be able to move forward. Do you think you could manage a few dwarves making a weapons delivery?” Dredek asked snidely.

  Aron thought back to the first time he had seen Osric’s companion, the dwarf that had made the delivery of weapons to Braya, and he had to force a lump from his throat.

  “Yes, Sir, of course I can.”

  Chapter 12

  ____________

  Reunion

  Osric and Kenneth stood carefully, peering over the edge of a sheer rock cliff. Salty water beat against the rocks below. Kenneth stared into the distance and took slow, deep breaths of ocean air. Osric stepped away and expected his friend to follow, but Kenneth did not notice him move.

  “Kenneth,” Osric said as he waved for him to follow, “let’s get going, they can’t be too far away.”

  He didn’t move, but stood with a dreamy look in his eyes, watching the waves smash against the jagged rocks below.

  “Kenneth?”

  Growing concerned, Osric put his hand on Kenneth’s shoulder, and flickering light caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

  “Ah!” Kenneth began to leap from foot to foot, running around in a circle, eyes locked on his feet. Blue flames danced on his boots as he ran.

  Osric looked around quickly, trying to find a source for the flames. They seemed to have come from nowhere. Laughter rang out from behind him, but Kenneth was too occupied trying to put out the flames to hear it. Osric turned to see Machai’s head, a smile covering his face, peeking out from a small rock outcropping. He signaled Osric to stay quiet, so Osric turned back to watch Kenneth flail about, sitting down and beating at the eerie flames with his shirt, with a grin.

  “Quit ye’r squawking or all of Rowain will know where we be.” Machai lowered his wand and stepped out from the rocks.

  Kenneth looked up in surprise as the flames died out and noticed the jolly faces of both Machai and Thamas for the first time. He frowned up at them. “I think I ruined my shirt, thanks to you. What if you burned my feet, how would I be able to help stop the shipment?”

  “Be assured, me friend,” he slapped him on the back, “there be no burn in me flames, unless I be intending it. What help will ye be, anyway? Ye still cannot be fighting with both of ye’r hands, if I do not be mistaken?”

  “We should probably move somewhere less conspicuous before we talk about our plans.” Osric interrupted the two of them.

  Machai held a hand out to help Kenneth up and turned back toward the rocks. “Aye, there be a fitting cave just over there.”

  Kenneth pulled his shirt over his head, looking a bit annoyed. “Good, I’ll have a place to hide his body,” he said with a smirk.

  The cave was lit with the same flame that Kenneth had frantically tried to put out on his feet. It was a small chamber with no other passages and looked like it had been home to an ursidae. Machai levitated several large rocks into the center of the cave for them to sit upon.

  Osric sat and turned to Thamas. “I am glad to have you back with us. Your wisdom from your years as Contege may prove invaluable.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. Seems a wise man could have spied on Braya without getting caught. You seemed to do that well enough.” Respect for the younger man was clear on his face as he took in Osric. “I mean, look at you, a fine Contege. You’ve come a long way from the lanky recruit you once were.” Osric looked over at Thamas with surprise. He hadn’t realized that Thamas remembered him from his time as a recruit in Stanton. Thamas winked over at him. “Of course, I remember you. And that big friend of yours too.” He glanced over at Kenneth.

  “A fine Contege?” Osric questioned, “I would still be in office if I had been a fine Contege. Instead, all the Vigiles are disbanded, and I can’t even go back to discover why.”

  “Ah, that’s not your fault, boy.” He waved his hand in the air, nearly brushing the top of the chamber with the motion.

  “Darn right, it’s not his fault,” Kenneth spoke assuredly as he joined them in conversation, “there was nothing he could have done. I’m sure they planned this all along.”

  “Yes, but I bear some of the blame for this, or the Vigiles would still patrol Stanton.”

  “Ye humans be doing too much of this.” Machai crossed his arms and leaned back. “When ye be done, can we be getting back to work?”

  “What do you mean?” Thamas inquired.

  “Eh, this be foolish talk. Ye be good men.” He leaned forward and pointed a crooked finger at each of them. “Ye should not be feeling sorry for yerselves for what be in the past. We have work to do. Ye did not be causing the trouble. Ye be wasting time professing ye’r guilt when ye should be making a plan. If ye be making mistakes, do not be dwelling on them, be learning from them. Ye be a leader, so lead.” Machai pulled out his axe and gripped it firmly, a look of determination on his face.

  Osric nodded as Machai’s words began to resonate. He had no control over what had happened, and yet it had happened. All the time he had spent feeling sorry for himself added up, and his mind would have been better used if he had found some answers rather than dwelling on his mistakes. Osric fortified his heart as he lifted his head to look into the eyes of the other men.

  “What do we know about the arrival of the shipment?”

  “We be a day ahead of ‘em. Me kin would not be staying on a boat longer than needed. Ye cannot be trusting the water. We should be meeting ‘em on the northern road by nightfall.”

  “How many will be in the caravan?”

  “A dozen. Ye willn’t be needing more dwarves than that to be guarding a caravan.”

  “Should we expect a fight, or do you think you can reason with them?” Osric knew his duty, and Machai was right. Their time was best spent finding answers and laying plans.

  “Aye, I can be making them see reason.”

  “We will need to find cover while we wait. We should head out as soon as we can. Travel by spell to keep from being seen. We will travel as far as we can see each time, so long as we can move safely. If we get started soon, it will give you two enough time to recover from the spell before we meet the dwarves.” Osric looked at the men. “Kenneth and I will stay hidden in case you need help. Machai, you and Thamas can try reasoning with them as soon as we make contact.”

  *

  Osric and Kenneth crouched in the tall grass to either side of the road and watched the caravan approach. Machai stood in the middle of the wide, gravel road with his weapons sheathed and his arms crossed. Thamas stood just behind him, pra
ying silently to Archana that everything would go as planned. The caravan halted fifty paces from where the men waited and dwarven armor creaked in the chill dusk. Eight wagons, pulled by two sturdy horses each, were flanked by four battle proven dwarves on either side. Machai knew several of them well. Leading the procession, a dwarf nearly as wide as he was tall took a few steps toward them, and Machai noticed two crossbows rise up from under the canvas coverings on the wagons.

  “Who be there, and what be ye’r business?” The dwarf’s hand rested on his weapon, but he did not draw it.

  “Ye can be calling off ye’r arrows, Kablis. I be Machai, ye’r FireFall brother.” He took several steps forward and the archers followed his movements. “Ye need to be knowing the fate of these blades ‘fore ye be handing them over into wicked hands.” Kablis eyed Machai’s tall companion wearily.

  “Machai, be ye aye, or be ye nay?” Machai grinned at the inquiry. Kablis was discreetly asking him if he was acting of his own free will, or if he were being coerced by another.

  “Aye, Kablis, he be a friend and ally.” Machai nodded as Kablis motioned with his hand and the crossbows retreated back under the canvas coverings.

  “Many lowly men be wielding Dwarven blades. What makes these hands so vile that they should not be grasping them?” Kablis challenged Machai.

  “These be the worst of men. They be seeking to make war with men for wrongs that they be committing on their own. They be enslaving the entire race of dragons by holding their eldest kin at Braya Volcano, until a nobler man be freeing them less than a month ago.” Murmurs erupted from the dwarves guarding the caravan.

  “Enslave the dragons?” Kablis stared in disbelief as he questioned Machai. “Have ye gone mad?”