The Wand-Maker's Debate: Osric's Wand: Book One Read Online Free PDF Page B

reported, “Something occurred at the palace during the ratification ceremony. The palace collapsed in on itself. We are asking all able to lend aid to report immediately. The situation is dire.” Then, just as quickly as he had arrived, he fled, running toward the tree line to continue spreading the news. The door slammed shut where his head had been. Lady Carrion looked baffled, but Gus patted her hand and then jumped down to the floor.
    “Do you still have the wands I left here for safe keeping?” Gus asked, thinking quickly.
    “Yes, of course.”
    “Give me a lift to the sink. I'll rinse these sticks while you grab the wands and your bag.” She lifted him gently, and went to find the wands he spoke of. When she returned, he had a pile of clean sticks sitting on the edge of the counter. “Put the wands in at the bottom, and make sure they are covered; I don't want to mix these up.” She did as he said and held her bag at the edge of the counter so he could push in the sticks and jump in himself. “You will pardon me for hitching a ride? My left leg isn't what it used to be and I would just slow you down.” He kept speaking as she grabbed her cloak and the bag and headed out the door. “I'll have these made into wands by the time we arrive in Stanton.”
    “Why so many?”
    “Because today, I am giving them away.”

 
     
     
    3 – Rude Awakening
     
     
    This is not what I expected, Osric thought to himself as he lay motionless, his head pounding in rhythm with his heartbeat. He could hear voices, but they sounded muffled and far away. This feels more like waking up than dying. He was certainly in enough pain to be dying. He had always imagined that death was a release from pain and suffering, but every muscle in his body ached as he strained to breathe. Breathe? Do the dead breathe? Osric reached up to rub his temples in an attempt to ease his headache and grazed his knuckles on stone. His eyes jerked open but in the dark he could not perceive anything to determine his surroundings. Dust, I smell dust! He tried to call out, but his throat was dry from the cloying dust and he managed very little sound. I survived? I can't believe I survived!
    What could have happened? Osric was mystified. As he moved his hands along the ground beside him, he felt debris scattered on the smooth marble floor he lay upon. How could he have lived through the explosion? He had no wand. He was so close to the source; he knew there was no way he could have survived such a blast. Yet there he was, still on Archana, or at least he thought he was.
    He thought through the events leading up to the explosion, and the two pulls of his gift had him baffled. He had never experienced his Portentist gift triggering for two simultaneous events. Thoughts continued to cycle through his head as he tried to unravel what had caused it, but he had no information except for the crowd looking behind him with excitement. Whatever they had seen, they did not seem to fear it. He had felt, with his gift, that what was happening behind him was momentous, but it had not felt threatening. Perhaps he could learn more later; right then he needed to focus on where he was and how to get out.
    He seemed to have a fair bit of room on each side of him. Above was another story. When he tried to reach up, his hands encountered stone within a hand's length above his waist. He pressed against it with as much strength as his could at the awkward angle, but it did not budge. His sword was still at his side, secured in its scabbard. He could hear movement near his feet but he couldn't see anything. Without his wand, he could not move the stone that trapped him. Hopefully, what he was hearing was an attempt to find survivors and they would be able to free him. If not, it could be days before he died of dehydration. As the worst parts of that death started to cycle through his mind, he felt a sharp pinch at his calf.
    “Ow!” Osric yelled, as he instinctively kicked his