The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) by Jack D. Albrecht Jr., Ashley Delay Read Free Book Online Page A

It has been proposed that these dragons have gone feral, losing any ability to communicate intelligently with the other dragons. It seems most likely to me that they have chosen to reject the link in order to protect their independence from the other dragons.”
    “Which would grant them the ability to tap into it at any time and learn about the traveling spell. When did these attacks begin?”
    “The first attack was sometime before I traveled to the Irua Realm. We thought the first was on the elven forest, but there was an earlier attack along the west coast of the Human Realm.” Bridgett shook her head in frustration. “As for the traveling spell, that is even more unclear. The dragons have a knack for collecting massive amounts of gold. If the rogue dragons have done the same, they may have found a way to permanently sever the telepathic link in order to keep their hoards hidden from the others. Although, we have to assume they could potentially know the spell.”
    “Has there been any declaration on their part? Do we know anything that could give us some hint as to their motives?” Osric’s brow furrowed.
    “We have had no communication with the rogue dragons at all. If they told anyone of their reasons, they didn’t allow them to live to share the message.” Bridgett shrugged. “Osric we have to find a way to stop them. I promised the elves that we would aid them when the attack occurred. I mean to keep that promise.”
    He nodded. “Maybe we need to pay the elves a visit and see if there is any news—after we sort things out here, of course?”
    Bridgett’s eyes were haunted. “If you could have heard that tree sing, you wouldn’t wait.”
    “I will send some men to learn what may be done.” Osric squeezed her hand, relieved to see her smile at his offer.
    “Thank you.” She stared at the table as she thought about what she had seen in the Elven Realm. The fear that had permeated the air when the elves realized the Mother was under attack had frozen her in shared empathic terror. “Osric—”
    “I need you here. Please, don’t leave when I have just gotten you back.”
    Bridgett smiled sadly but nodded. She would allow his men to go, but she would insist on speaking with them first.
    * * *
    Pebble held two stilts out in front of himself. He was impressed by the likeness to the performers’ sets he had seen as the entertainers prepared and practiced for the anniversary meal. His stilts were, of course, shorter than those used by the humans walking through the streets, but he had gotten a good look at them before their pant legs had been lowered over the wooden supports.
    He had to modify it a bit to accommodate his prairie dog legs, but the design was still very similar to that of the tall figures walking about as they juggled flaming torches, knives, or colorful bags of sand. He loved the long strides that the stilts provided the entertainers so much that he wanted to try it for himself.
    Surprisingly, he had found that he already possessed all of the materials needed to duplicate the stilts. He had already been crafting wands from much larger chunks of wood, so he had more than enough of the material on hand in his wand shop. The act of carving the walking sticks with his wand had proven to be a fun challenge. It was more difficult than making wands, but still enjoyable.
    He propped the leg extensions up against the front of a nearby chair. Then with a quick vocalization of the traveling spell, he found himself looking back at them from atop the chair. He sat, sliding toward them, careful not to knock them over. He slid his back paws in from the side—one brace above the paw, one behind his leg—and slipped his claws into a few holes of the footrest. The last step was to secure his legs with a few thin leather straps. He looked up at the closed window where the afternoon light still made its way through the border, gathering his courage.
    Pebble slid off of the chair, bracing himself with his