The High-Wizard's Hunt: Osric's Wand: Book Two (16 page)

“You came here in the middle of the night to discuss my lodgings?” She pushed him back toward the door. “I am sorry, but I am tired.”

“Wait.” Osric’s protest was received, and she let him stay, looking impatient. Osric took a deep breath.

“He’s a silly unicorn,” Pebble snorted and began to snore again.

Osric smiled, looking back at the bed. “He’s a good pup.” He nodded in Pebble’s direction and then looked back into her eyes.

“He is smart, too.” Bridgett put her hands on her hips and Osric could feel daggers drilling into him from her stony gaze. “You
men
do not give him enough credit. He has been making wands since we arrived. He will not tell anyone what he is doing, but I have seen him gathering sticks in the woods. The unicorns are very curious about him. I can sense that much. They see his potential, and many of them follow him around when he is making them.” She looked back at Pebble, remaining rigid where she stood.

Osric felt an unfamiliar sensation. It was as though, as she gazed at Pebble and he at her, he could feel himself pulled in a direction that he knew was right, a direction that he must take. It seemed much of the potential of his life was captured in that moment. His body moved of its own accord. Not controlling him, but guided by him and at the same time out of his control, as though he were watching himself from outside his own body.

Osric stepped close to her. As she turned, he leaned in and took Bridgett in his arms. Their lips met as he returned to himself and his Portentist gift surged with power. The importance of the moment reverberated within him as he held her. Suppressed hunger roared with a vehemence he had never felt before. He took in her scent, subtle like distant lilacs carried on a spring wind. He noticed the feel of her lips, soft and warm, with a hint of denial. He relished her embrace and how she fit perfectly, molded against his chest as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. Moments faded into days, and years transpired in mere breaths, and yet only the briefest of moments passed by them. Slowly, they fought to pull themselves away from what they both felt, what they desired. Osric trailed his fingers down her arms as he backed away, unable to look up from her stunning, blue eyes.

Bridgett stood in front of him with watery eyes, her lower lip trembling in the silence between them. Osric could not speak. It was not what he had planned, and his gift had prompted it.
Did it? Or was it me?
But the Portentist gift had activated, he knew that much. He looked at Bridgett, just as she drew back her fist and punched him in the mouth.

Osric stepped back, alarmed. He stuck his finger in his mouth, feeling at his teeth to assess the damage. Bridgett followed him as he backed up. She grabbed him by the arm and shoved him out into the hall.

“How dare you,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “Do you think because you cannot sleep, I shall keep you company through the night?”

“No, I just came to talk.” Osric was stunned by her passionate anger.

“Oh, you call that talking?” She glared at him as a single tear rolled down her cheek. “You have every intention of leaving here tomorrow to go off on some mission to save us all and you would lose your focus by being distracted with this? I will not allow you to put yourself at greater risk for the comfort of one night.”

“No, I just wanted to talk. I never meant to imply that I—” Osric was cut off by her retort.

“Distractions will not serve you well. Nor will my heart be served by the knowledge that you are at even greater risk for my affections.”

“Bridgett.” She calmed a bit hearing him call out her name, but anger remained vigilant in her eyes. “I don’t know what happened in there.” He reached down and grabbed her hand in both of his. They stood in her doorway, eyes locked on each other, but her stubborn expression did not soften as he searched for words.

“You go,” she spoke softly, yet sternly. “Go and find out who is responsible for initiating this war.” She turned and opened the door to her room, hesitating before closing it. “Then, you may kiss me. Not before.”

The door clicked shut and Osric leaned against the frame. He could hear her breathing on the other side.

“I wish things were different,” Osric whispered as he ran his hand down the rough wood of her door.

“Me too.”

A New Assignment

Aron stood at the railing of the ship watching the cliffs of Rowain grow larger on the horizon. Their journey had been uneventful, just as Aridis said. Aron wondered how the rest of his cryptic prediction would play out. They had arrived at the docks just as the ship was preparing to sail. The captain said their fresh water supply had been compromised, and they were forced to dock at the abandoned port to resupply from the springs. Aron convinced the captain to allow them passage to Rowain, although for a higher fee than he normally would have agreed to. The captain said it was unsettling that the men had appeared during the short time they were docked, and he required the extra coin for the risk he was taking in letting them board.

“So where do we go from here?” Thom asked.

“According to Aridis, we go see the man who sent me to Braya. I doubt we will get an audience with the Turgent, but he has Konsults who issue those orders for him.” Aron walked away from the rail to retrieve their pack, and as soon as they made port, Aron and Thom set out for the palace at Rowain.

Rowain was a massive city. A steady flow of traffic, from merchants to beggars, occupied the wide road leading to the gates. The wall that surrounded the city was impressive, and no army had ever successfully taken the city. The towers of the inner wall could be seen from the distance, and the flags that donned the palace turrets, beyond on a rocky hillside, could be seen waving in the salty breeze. A maze of shabby homes built several stories tall, market stalls, and more permanent trade shops occupied the space between the two city walls. The lower city, as it was called, was home to a variety of races, guilds, and every type of lowly criminal and unscrupulous sort. The smells mingling in the air varied from the spices of sweet cakes sold by wandering vendors to the cloying aroma of incense and lust from the less admirable districts.

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.