The High-Wizard's Hunt

Chapter 8

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News From the North

Osric stroked the unfamiliar beard gracing his jawline after lying abed for fifteen days. He sat in the lonely room, contemplating the fate of his men. The Vigiles are disbanded? He wasn’t sure how he should be feeling. The shock hadn’t quite set in, and everyone was in the hall outside his room giving him some time to gather his thoughts. The food Kenneth brought, though delicious, brought little comfort. He tucked the smoked meat into his empty pouch and rested his head in his hands.

The removal of the Vigiles from power pressed firmly on his mind. Toby, and almost the whole crew, were seeing to those who set up a memorial outside of the Palace, but they had no other function. Why? His head spun with the frustration that the news brought.

He stood up in an attempt to shake the cobwebs from his muddled mind. Timidly, he walked across the room, noticing that most of his strength had returned. He walked back and took another sip from the cup. His head pounded, trying to make sense of everything. He needed to find out the reason behind the disbanding. He reached down for his wand to contact Toby. Only then did he remember that his wand was elsewhere.

“Damn!” He quickly made his way to the door and flung it open.

The hall was empty, but he heard speaking coming from a chamber to his left. He recognized the voices of his friends and slowly made his way toward the sound. Although his strength had returned, it was clear that his control of function had not yet gained its former potential. He could make out the sound of Gus arguing, but he didn’t recognize the voice of his opponent. He staggered slightly as his head spun when he approached the end of the hall, leaning against the cold, stone wall as he faced the open room.

“Osric, tell this idiot he is wrong!” Gus stomped across the room to brood and left Osric staring at the owner of the strange voice. Osric had met many gnomes in his time as a Vigile in Stanton. Several of the wealthy merchants that came through town to trade were of gnomish descent. He was short in stature and slim, standing just taller than Osric’s waist. Wispy, white hair accentuated his large ears, and his big, wide set eyes gazed at Osric with an unsettling wisdom. A delicate pair of gold spectacles balanced on his bulbous nose. Osric looked back at him with some sympathy for having to argue with Gus. It was not an easy task to undertake, and even less so to come out victorious.

“Rejecting the death of the hunted is no less noble than embracing it. It is simply another way to live.” The gnomes precise articulation in a nasally, tenor voice gave Osric the impression that his words were carefully chosen.

“I don’t think I have ever heard of someone wanting to die a natural death.” Osric was curious as he carefully made his way to a chair. “Why would you want to do away with the hunt?”

“I am not claiming to know better than the rest of Archana’s inhabitants. However, it does seem that I should be able to live my life to any age I see fit without fearing a predator’s attack. I have much to do with my time left in this world, and I have yet to find a way to indicate that I am not interested in ending my life to sustain another with my body.”

“Don’t you want to be honored?” Osric shifted in the chair, seeking a comfortable position. The gnome’s view was fascinating; he had never met someone who wanted to grow old and frail, denying the nourishment of another in their death.

“I see no honor in killing any creature who would rather live on,” he walked closer to Osric and bowed slightly, “Please, forgive me, I have failed to greet you properly before engaging in such provoking subjects. I am Eublin, overseer of the Underforge and caretaker of the critical tomes.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Eublin. I am Osric.” He paused for a moment, remembering that the Vigiles were disbanded. “I… I guess that is it.” Osric looked awkwardly at Kenneth, who returned the expression. “I haven’t heard of anyone who lives like this. How did you come to this way of thinking?”

“My years have been filled with opportunities to see injustices done and time to contemplate them.” Eublin waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “It is a collection of tales too long to recall without a proper mug of rulha and some honey cakes. Come, we shall dine together and discuss it more.”

Osric grinned at the mention of his favorite food and drink. He was fairly sure he would like Eublin.

“Dolts!” Gus shook his head in disgust and followed them from the room.

*

Osric conversed with Eublin over a plate of honey cakes, and he felt control of his limbs, along with his strength, return over time. A full stomach and pleasant company had gone a long way toward driving away his aches and mental fog. Yet, as interesting as the chat was, Osric itched to have his sword and wand back. The thought of being out of contact with the world wore at him the more time he spent in discussion.

Finding his way through the Underforge was not difficult with Eublin’s help, and Osric was awed by the number of books on massive shelves throughout the complex. The amiable gnome led Osric to the door and gave him instructions to find his way to the forge.

“Just follow the trail to the right. It will lead you to Jane at the forge. I believe you will find yourself fairly impressed with the woman’s craftsmanship,” he spoke with admiration in his voice.

“Where can I see the unicorns?” The thought had presented itself rather quickly. Few people had the opportunity to visit the Grove of the Unicorn, so he thought he should at least see them while he was there. A unicorn had a hand in the creation of the first wand, if the fire telling Ero had given them was correct, so he felt it would be appropriate to pay his respects before fetching his wand.

“They like to gather in the large field off to our left. You show wisdom by recognizing their importance over tools.” Eublin nodded as he closed the door.

Osric returned the nod, only moderately disturbed by the gnome’s seeming ability to hear his thoughts, and then he took the path to the field. As he walked along the path, he admired the architecture of the stone retaining wall that made the entrance to the Underforge. The worn path down to the field was easy to traverse, even in his condition. His faculties seemed to have returned, but the last thing he felt like doing was testing his physical limits with a long hike.

The path led alongside his destination, and it was easily recognizable. Several unicorns were retreating into the trees at the far end of the open area. Osric found himself a bit disappointed as he entered the expanse to find it completely empty. A momentary thought of giving the unicorns chase entered his mind, but he decided against it and returned to the path to the forge.

Osric stopped, contemplating the security spell that had attacked him as he attempted to enter the grove. He cast his gaze toward the heavens, peering with his newfound gift at the wonder that surrounded him.

He knew he was inexperienced, but he was immediately surprised at the complexity of the spell. It was not a single spell that caused the shield to function as a protection spell; there were layers of spells. One lay on top of another in a complex weave that baffled him in its construction. Each consecutive spell was more complex, more detailed in its creation, and more difficult to distinguish the threads that made them function. Yet, at the base of it all, what made the field that he walked in ‘hidden’ from the rest of the world, was a recognizable pattern of vivid white strands woven together. Osric was dumbstruck by the beauty, the intricate simplicity, of the magic displayed before his eyes. He glanced around himself, still utilizing the Wand-Maker ability to see the magic surrounding him. Osric marveled at how different the world appeared since acquiring the gift, not just visually, but every one of his senses seemed sharper, clearer. He took a deep breath and sighed audibly. If only the world could remain as pure as the grove he stood in. Almost regretfully, Osric resumed his journey to the forge.

Distant sounds of hammer on anvil confirmed that he was headed in the right direction as the path inclined to a taxing slope. The ornate carvings on his right tapered to a point as he gained the top of the hill. He stood for a few moments to gain his breath and take in the scene.

A large, wooden building stood in the center of the hill, and he could hear the work that was underway. A gradual rise gave birth to the hill he stood upon, and he could see thousands of trees surrounding it. The field he had just left was clearly visible and was flowing over with animals he could not make out at the distance. The thought of returning there to investigate entered his mind until he saw Bridgett run past the corner of the forge chasing Pebble and a white dog. It looked like a lot of fun, so having caught his breath, he attempted to jog for the first time since he awoke. The dog seemed to be threatened by his rapid approach and began to bark as it faced Osric.

“Happy, he’s is a friend.” Pebble ran to Osric and climbed his breeches as he knelt to greet the dog, holding out his hand. “Call him by’s his name and he’s will love you’s.”

“Happy? That is a great name.” He winked at Bridgett as the dog’s stump of a tail wagged excitedly while he ran his hand over its head. He sniffed at Osric’s coin purse excitedly, so Osric obliged by digging out the strips of smoked beef from his breakfast. After eating, Happy rolled over on his back, begging for his belly to be rubbed, and Pebble joined him in the display.

“Do’s me too, Unicorn!”

Bridgett laughed as Pebble laid on the ground next to Happy, wriggling for attention. Osric felt warmth spread within his chest at the whimsical chime of her laughter. They locked eyes for a moment, and many things passed between them without the burden of words. Though the world carried on, not noticing what transpired, they both took note of the vulnerability and trust expressed in a single glance. Osric noticed how the sunlight shimmered in her hair, carrying him back to the time he first saw her. He recalled how his heart had raced as he crossed the field, every step carrying him closer to her. Much as it was racing as he looked up at her smile. He had known even then that somehow their paths were entangled, but he never expected to be so entranced by her. Osric stood, and the distance closed between them in a single step. She stood facing him, pliable yet strong, as he drowned in her eyes. Osric reached out and pulled a small twig from a lock of her auburn hair. Her cheeks flushed as his fingertips brushed her neck, but their eyes remained locked.

“Os!” Kenneth came around the corner of the building. “You have got to see your sword! Jane crafts a hilt as well as Archana crafted her!”

“Don’t forget it either.” She trailed behind him, throwing her glove at his back.

“Yeah, I should probably stop playing around and get some work done,” Osric said, as he turned and walked away with Kenneth and Jane. Stop acting like an idiot and focus. No time for romance, he berated himself as he rounded the front corner of the building, but he couldn’t help but glance back at her.

Kenneth looked back and said, “I think you’re going to like this,” as they were led into the small building that served as the forge. Gus was crouched over something on a table in the corner as Jane led them around several tables to the back of the room. She opened a long, wooden drawer with a smile and motioned for Osric to look inside.

His sword had been transformed in his sleep. The blade was polished, sharpened and oiled to new condition. His eyes drifted slowly over the hilt. He stood, motionless, gaping at the beauty of it. Dragon wings adorned with jewels stretched out the sides in a graceful arch. An eagle’s head decorated the pommel with sapphire eyes that seemed to catch light from some hidden source. Elegantly adorned, with clean lines and dazzling reflection, the sword gleamed a pristine silver where the jewels were absent. What had been a leather wrapped grip when Osric brought it into the grove, was transformed into a nearly perfect representation of a unicorn’s horn. He reached out to pick it up and feel it in his hands.

“Wait,” Jane stepped in front of him and pushed him back a step, “you can’t handle a blade like this until you name it. It has been held with gloved hands while working it. No flesh has touched this blade, and none will, until it has a name.” She stepped away again for him to look at it.

A name came to him at once. “Legati,” he spoke in a hushed tone.

“Legati?” Kenneth questioned.

“It is all I have left of my father. It means legacy.”

“In what language?” The confusion was evident in Kenneth’s voice.

“I’m not sure. I must have heard it somewhere.” Osric tried to remember where he discovered the word, but it escaped his memory. Whether he could locate the place he learned it or not, the name fit, and it felt right. He lifted Legati from the fabric lined drawer and savored its weight in his hands. He turned it over, admiring the detail in the crafting. Pride surged through him as he spun the sword in his left hand, testing the balance of the blade. “Thank you.” The statement seemed insufficient to express his gratitude.

“When you’re done playing with toys, your wand is ready over here.” Gus glowered at him from across the room.

Osric sheathed the sword and made his way to Gus, only slightly annoyed at the tone in his voice. He had become accustomed to Gus’ belittling attitude and found it easier to accommodate without an argument. The memory and excitement of the newly fashioned blade in his hand resonated within him, and he found it difficult not to smile childishly even after the comment. Yet, he was just as excited to retrieve the wand that seemed responsible for his mysterious evolution in power.

Gus looked comical handling a wand he could easily use as a walking stick while standing on a tabletop waiting for Osric.

“Let’s see if you are smart enough to come up with a name for this, too,” Gus mocked Osric as he handed him the wand.

“Wow.” Osric looked at the wand. The bark had been completely stripped off, and the customary bolt was burned in the handle. It had a red hue, and was finished to a high shine. “I,” Osric stumbled over words, “I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful.” He looked up at Gus and then back at Jane. “They both are. There is no way I can repay either of you for these. Thank you.”

“Are you going to cry now, boy?”

“Gus,” Bridgett raised her voice as she stuck her head inside the window, unnoticed until she spoke, “I thought you and I talked about the way you treat people.”

“Ah!” Gus threw his hands in the air and walked to the end of the counter. “You can’t expect me to go easy on the boy. He’ll go soft!” He leapt down from the counter, using a chair to shorten the jump, and scurried out the door.

“So, what do we do now, Os?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I need to contact Toby to find out how things are there, but I really want to see some unicorns first. I tried the field down the hill, but it was empty.”

“Well, that won’t take long. If they aren’t in that field, they will be just over there.” Jane motioned out the door and led the way.

The group walked quickly down a worn footpath. Osric swelled with curiosity, wondering if he would be able to see something in them that Gus did not. Intrigued by the thought of finding out why they sent them to Rowain, he picked up his pace.

“How much further is it?” Osric asked.

“Just up around these next few trees,” she said as she rounded a bend and stopped short.

“I’m sorry.” Fallon stood in front of them, blocking the way. “The unicorns need you to stay away from them.” She pointed at Osric with an apologetic gaze.

“What?” Osric stepped back, wide eyed, as the far side of the field was the retreat for a dozen unicorns.

“I don’t actually understand it. They trust you with their lives, yet they have a deep fear of getting too close to you.” Osric stood stunned, trying to comprehend why the unicorns would fear him. He was about to protest when he was interrupted.

“Osric, ye be there? I be having some dire news for ye.” Machai’s gravelly voice emanated from Osric’s wand, interrupting the conversation.

Osric pulled his wand out and held it up for the image to appear, still shocked and not looking forward to more bad news.

“What is it,” he barked out, impatiently. He couldn’t help but vent his anger in his response.

“The cache of Dwarven blades at Braya be a wee load next to the shipment that be headed to Rowain,” Machai responded matter of factly, cocking his head curiously at Osric’s outburst.

“Strands!” Osric swore at the sky in frustration as his companions stood by with shocked expressions. “When did this happen? What did they order and how much?”

“Two hundred thousand of the finest Dwarven steel. The shipment be swords, axes, and spears, and they be endowed with all manner of enchantment stones. It be taking a very long time to be filling an order that size, Osric. I don’t be knowing when the order be placed, but the shipment be gone already when we be arriving.”

Osric struggled with the timing of the orders. The order of weapons must have been placed well before the attack on Stanton Palace. Unless they had a See-er working for them, they could not have known about the attack. And if they had a See-er, they could have avoided the death toll and stopped the disaster before it happened.

“Do you know who requisitioned the order of weapons?” Osric rubbed his temples with his free hand.

“Nay, but I be seeing the parchment with the Turgent’s seal. It be coming from someone in Rowain, if not from the Turgent’s own quill.”

“Are you telling me that the Turgent planned this whole thing? The Palace attack, the war, all of it?” Osric read the expressions on Machai’s face.

“Nay. I be telling ye I be having no idea what in stone’s blood this all be meaning, and that’s for ye to figure out. But I do not be wanting to see the effects of a mass of addle brained humans marching around with Dwarven blades, so we need to be stopping that shipment,” Machai paused momentarily, “If the Turgent did not be planning it, it be in his best interest to know who did. I will be meeting ye as soon as I be done knocking some sense into me kin for supplying the weapons. Do ye be wanting me to bring Thamas along? I willn’t be telling him more than be needed.”

“Well, what is your impression of Thamas? Can he be trusted?” Osric wanted to believe that he was a good man, but needed confirmation before his next move.

“Aye, he be as good a human as most any I be meeting. He be ready to be helping us fight, and he be better at using both hands than ye be.” Machai chuckled.

“All right, teach him the traveling spell then, as well. I want both of you able to flee and report at a moment’s notice, but be careful who you use it around unless you know they can be trusted.” Osric focused himself as he spoke, realizing what he needed to do. “Kenneth and I will meet you two in Rowain. We need to talk to the Turgent and find out what is happening.”

“Aye, I will be contacting ye when we be arriving. We will be traveling to the cliffs that be south of Rowain. It be the closest location I be familiar with, other than the city itself.”

“We recently took an impromptu trip to the area. I don’t remember seeing the cliffs, but I think we can find you. Meet us at mid’day.” Osric looked at Kenneth and signaled him to get his things ready.

“Oh, I think not!”

Osric looked over at Bridgett, and her face was flushed with anger as she approached.

“What is it?”

“You just woke up from two weeks of unconsciousness. You will give yourself at least the day to regain your strength.” She approached his right side and took his sword from its sheath, glaring at him in defiance. “I will give this back to you in the morning.”

Osric stood, mouth agape, watching her stride away with his sword in her grasp.