Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web (The Complete Epic Fantasy)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “Arthur’s dead now.”

  “Exactly. And I don’t want you to be next!” She held Nicholas’s face and looked directly into his eyes. “Forget about what you should do, Nicholas, and think about your life. I don’t want you to end up a corpse like Arthur Weeks. You may not be able to think straight right now, but I can. Let me think for you.”

  He nodded. Katherine took his hands and they both knelt in the shadows. “I think you should leave Kanesbury,” she whispered. “For your own good.” Nicholas was about to protest, but she placed a finger to his lips. “I know you think you’re running away, but I’m trying to save your life.”

  “I appreciate it, but–”

  “Nicholas, given some time, Constable Brindle and Maynard will get to the bottom of this mess. Trust me. Both of them think so much of you, and neither in his heart can really believe that you murdered a man. Give them time.”

  “Running will just make me look guilty.”

  “Yet if you stay and turn yourself in, there’ll be demonstrations and confusion. You’ll be convicted just because you’re an easy target,” she said. “But more importantly, the real killer is still out there. What if he comes after you next? With you out of the way, things will calm down so a proper investigation can be conducted.”

  “I don’t know…” Nicholas sat on the floor, his back against a block of ice. “Where would I go?”

  “Morrenwood. You were planning to join the King’s Guard. Then again,” she reconsidered, “the search party might think that too and scout along the main roads.”

  “That dream has kind of lost its appeal for me.”

  “Then take the back roads and disappear elsewhere for a while. But don’t tell me where,” she advised. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally let it slip.”

  Nicholas smiled with deep appreciation. “Thanks for helping me, Katherine. You’ve always been so kind whenever I’ve seen you, though I know you’re like that with everyone.”

  “Nearly everyone,” she joked.

  “And even though we’ve just been friends for a while, I thought perhaps one day...” He looked upon her as a cold sadness weighed upon his heart, wondering if their budding friendship could have ever blossomed into something greater if he had been given a little more time. He tried to smile. “Well, I sure was looking forward to that dance at the pavilion.”

  “So was I, Nicholas.” She returned a smile and stood, offering her hands to him. He got to his feet. “Now promise me you’ll leave the village tonight.”

  “I promise,” he said, nodding dejectedly. “But I still have mixed feelings.”

  “How could you not? But trust me on this. I’ll get word to Maynard and Constable Brindle tomorrow that you’re okay. I’ll tell them that you were here at the time of the murder. It’ll help in the investigation.”

  “No! You can’t do that, Katherine. Now you must promise me that you won’t say a word,” he frantically pleaded. “Let the constable investigate on his own to start.”

  “But why, Nicholas? My testimony will help prove you’re not guilty.”

  “It will help, but until Clay discovers more solid evidence, the real killer is still out there, as you said.” Nicholas was filled with unease. “If word gets out that you can prove my innocence, then you’re in danger, too. You could end up just like Arthur Weeks.”

  “Nicholas, I won’t keep your innocence a secret.”

  “Katherine, please! If you don’t give me your word that you’ll say nothing, then I’ll turn myself in right now. I won’t put anyone else in danger, especially you.”

  Katherine was torn between seeing justice served and Nicholas’ stubborn concern for her, but she finally relented and promised to say nothing to Constable Brindle. “I’ll do as you ask, but only because I couldn’t bear to see you in prison.”

  “Thank you. Now I’ll rest easier on the road.”

  Katherine smiled. “At least I can help you out there. I have something for you.” She took the candle and walked over to the cellar stairs, grabbing a small tied bundle on the bottom step.

  “What’s that?”

  “Some items you’ll need for your journey. I put them together as soon as I heard about the murder.” Katherine untied a thin rope wrapped around a rolled up blanket. Inside was a cloth sack. “I’ve prepared some food for you. You can’t starve, after all. There’s dried meat inside, along with some biscuits, cheese and fruit.”

  “Do the Stewarts know that you’re robbing them?” he lightly asked.

  “With all the party food upstairs, I could have given you a week’s supply and nobody would notice.”

  “Thanks.” He took the items and retied them as before.

  “I’d give you an oil lamp, but I think you’ll be better off without it. Tonight the darkness will be your friend.”

  “Nowhere near as good a friend as you’ve been, Katherine.” Nicholas hugged her goodbye, not wanting to let go. The sweet warmth of her body would soon be followed by the bitter cold of the dark outdoors, and he was now reluctant to tread the unknown paths that awaited him. What once offered adventure and wonder suddenly seemed bleak and disheartening. He didn’t want to leave but knew he had no choice.

  “I’ll never forget your help, Katherine. And please keep an eye on Maynard when you can.”

  “I promise. And if you get settled somewhere, send me a post so I’ll know how to reach you about the investigation.”

  “If I’m able to. Just don’t let anyone know–for your own safety.”

  “You keep safe too, until you can finally return.”

  Nicholas shrugged. “I can’t even imagine that day right now,” he said, hugging her one last time. “But I’ll try.”

  A few minutes later, he quietly slipped out the back cellar door and up a set of stone steps leading to the shadowy lawn behind the estate, giving Katherine a final goodbye glance before weaving among the shrubbery and trees. The Fox Moon had already set, providing him a secure cover of darkness.

  Throughout the village, the laughter of revelers and the shouts of search parties peppered the crisp autumn air. Katherine whispered farewell as Nicholas darted across the lawn and disappeared into a thicket of trees. She was unable to see precisely where he exited the property, wondering where his journey would ultimately take him. As the cool air chilled her, she reluctantly stepped back inside the ice cellar and closed the door on the tumultuous night, uncertain if they would ever see each other again.

  CHAPTER 7

  Two Meetings

  After witnessing the release of the Enâri from the Spirit Caves, Mune walked back to Kanesbury, flushed with satisfaction that his task had gone off without a hitch. Caldurian would certainly congratulate him at their dawn meeting for a job well done, or so he hoped. Though the wizard trusted and confided in him, Mune had rarely known him to impart the slightest hint of friendship, let alone crack a joke or offer a pleasant smile. He found Caldurian wanting in the social graces, unable to imagine sitting next to him in a tavern, each hoisting a mug of ale while picking at a plate of roasted venison. But since Caldurian paid him well for his services, and the adventures throughout Laparia were exhilarating, he had remained loyal to the sullen and mysterious wizard for many years.

  Mune passed through Kanesbury in the darkness, staying on River Road until he neared a wooden bridge less than a mile beyond the village’s western border. The cold waters of the Pine River flowed beneath. Perched on a railing was the messenger crow Gavin, as black as the night itself. Mune was expecting him as he stepped onto the bridge, his boot steps echoing along the wooden planks. He stopped in the center and extended an arm. Gavin fluttered his wings and hopped off the railing, perching on Mune’s forearm.

  “Punctual as usual, Gavin. A credit to your feathered race.” He removed a handful of berries for Gavin to feed on. The bird cawed, bobbing its head while feasting before again alighting on the railing when finished. Mune leaned over the bridge and watched the swift, silent water below, a hundr
ed stars reflecting on its mirror-like surface. “Can I assume that our Enâri friends made it safely to Barringer’s Landing?”

  “Friends?” Gavin sputtered. “They are an uncivilized bunch. Made from dirt and rock, which says volumes about their character.”

  Mune grinned. “I agree. The Enâri are an uncouth lot, yet useful to our cause. But they must be particularly irritable after a forced twenty-year sleep inside those cold caves,” he said with a chuckle.

  “And how! The Enâri proceeded noisily to their assigned spot to await Caldurian’s arrival. Several arguments and fist fights broke out immediately to see who would be in charge of which company.” Gavin tapped his beak on the railing. “But I let them have at each other and flew off. My task was to see if they arrived safely–which they did–so I left. Let them pummel each another if that’s how they wish to amuse themselves!”

  “Still, job well done. Caldurian will be pleased,” Mune said. “Anything else to report before I meet with him?”

  The crow flapped its wings apprehensively and walked along the railing closer to Mune. “There was one minor hitch which I’m certain will not please Caldurian.”

  He raised a suspicious eye. “Oh?”

  “Apparently one of the Enâri took off on his own, a particularly thuggish and ill-mannered individual. Bad enough that he deceived me, but he nearly killed me, too! We’re supposed to be on the same side, after all. I don’t deserve that kind of treatment!”

  Gavin flapped his wings again and scratched his talons into the wood as Mune tried calming the crow so it would finish the story. Eventually the bird recounted his run-in with Jagga, the creature’s knowledge of the key, and how it had forced Gavin to reveal Caldurian’s plan to retrieve the key from Zachary Farnsworth. “That slug had me clamped in his fingers, threatening to squeeze the life out of me. If I hadn’t told him all I knew, I’d be a dead crow right now. A dead messenger! And let me tell you, dead messengers aren’t useful to anyone! You can tell that to Caldurian when you see him.”

  Mune fed more berries to the crow to settle it down, though the bird remained bouncy and skittish for some time. Mune sighed and thought for a moment, wondering what he’d tell Caldurian and fearing how the wizard might react.

  “If we’re lucky,” he said, “that Enâr may have only talked a good game, gotten the information he wanted from you, and simply fled. He might be miles away by now.”

  “I saw a fire in that creature’s eyes. He was determined to obtain the key by any method. His loyalty was to himself alone.”

  Mune tugged at his goatee. “Then let us assume the worst. Suppose he does manage to find this Farnsworth fellow and steal the key. What then? He still flees, keeping the key safe or destroying it, but in either case preserving his existence.” He nodded as he thought aloud. “That’s precisely what Caldurian wants in the end–to keep the Enâri safe. Maybe this isn’t a disaster after all.”

  “I hope you’re right. Caldurian likes things done his way. Any deviation in the wizard’s plan is sure to upset him, no matter the outcome.”

  “True. But that’s my problem now. You’d best be off, Gavin, until you’re needed again. I’ll tell Caldurian that you did your usual best.”

  “I would be much obliged, Mune.” With that, he emitted a mournful caw and flew away, his wings flapping softly in the chilly pre-dawn air.

  Mune could only see the bird for a moment before darkness fully engulfed it. He walked across the bridge and continued along River Road for several minutes until it forked. The River Road portion continued to the west while the West Cumberland Road curved south. As instructed, Mune headed south for a quarter mile and then stepped off the road and entered the Cumberland Forest to his left. He expected to find Caldurian some two hundred paces into the darkened woods.

  The tallest pines creaked mournfully in a breeze that gently rocked them. Mune swished his way through rotted undergrowth and fallen leaves, wishing he still possessed the torch he had taken to the Spirit Caves. But as that had burned out hours ago, he counted off his paces, guiding himself as best he could through the pre-dawn gloom. He was tired and hungry, eagerly looking forward to the end of this task. On top of that, his feet were sore as the soles of his boots had begun to wear away after the many miles of travel these past few weeks. He suddenly stopped, detecting a flicker of light a short distance ahead behind a cluster of trees. Mune inched closer, not daring to call out Caldurian’s name, though certain no one else was in the vicinity.

  A few steps closer and he saw a warm, blazing campfire partially blocked from view by three large tree trunks. Mune hurried toward the light, anticipating a bit of breakfast perhaps, but found no one there. The crackling fire was well stoked, emitting waves of warmth which felt soothing after the constant slap of cold night air. A pile of dried twigs and smaller branches lay nearby. Two short logs had been placed in front of the blaze to be used as seats, yet not a soul was in sight.

  “Now where is he?” muttered Mune, looking around. “Just like a wizard. Keep us regulars waiting despite the fact that we’ve been up all night doing his dirty work.” He glanced farther into the woods with his back to the fire, but couldn’t see anything except tree trunks and darkness. He shrugged.

  “You are well compensated for all of that dirty work,” a voice softly replied.

  Mune spun around. On one of the logs in front of the fire sat Caldurian, wrapped in the folds of a heavy black cloak with a hood draped over his head. He turned toward Mune, acknowledging him with a glint from one eye peeking out beneath the hood.

  “Where’d you–?” Mune walked toward the fire and scratched his head. “I wish you wouldn’t pop out of thin air like that, Caldurian. Scares the blazes out of me.”

  “I prefer to see whom I’m meeting with before anyone sees me in case an uninvited guest happens to tag along.”

  “Other than me, what fool would be up and about at this dreadful hour? Present company excepted, of course,” he quickly added with an awkward smile.

  “Have a seat, Mune. You’re obviously tired.”

  “Thank you.” He sat on the log next to Caldurian, extending his feet and warming his hands by the fire. “You don’t know how good this feels. After dealing with two drunken yokels half the night, and those crazed Enâri cooped up for twenty years–not to mention the dramatics of that hysterical Gavin–why, I’m just about ready to curl up in a ball somewhere and sleep for a week myself.”

  “But then you would miss all the fun,” Caldurian said ominously. “And we have so much work still to do.” He removed his hood, revealing a thin face that harbored a pair of dark, brooding eyes. Long locks of iron gray hair flowed over his hunched shoulders and a short beard of matching color was trimmed to a point. “Why, we’ve taken only the first few steps in our quest.”

  “Understood. Though might I ask what precisely my next steps are in this grand scheme?” He chuckled. “I don’t know how many more miles these boots can take.”

  “They are looking a tad threadbare,” the wizard remarked before removing a parchment envelope from a pocket hidden inside the folds of his cloak and handing it to him. It had been sealed with a blot of red wax. “The details of your mission are inside. You can familiarize yourself with them on your own time. You’ll be heading north to the grasslands on the shores of the Trillium Sea. There you will meet with my contact from the Northern Isles.”

  “That ought to be interesting,” he snickered. “The Islanders are about as refined a bunch as the Enâri.”

  “Their reputation as a militant people is often exaggerated, but they’ve been loyal allies to Vellan over the years and are a necessary component of our plan. You will meet with Commander Uta. Show him every courtesy.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’d talk to Uta myself, but other matters need my attention.”

  “Even wizards can’t be everywhere at once. Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t, Mune. Nonetheless, you’ll h
ave company on your mission. Seven nights from tonight you’ll contact an old acquaintance of ours–Madeline. Again, details of where and when are in the letter.”

  “Madeline? So how is the old girl? I haven’t crossed paths with her in nearly two years,” he said with a mixture of delight and apprehension. “It’ll be a treat to work with her again–for the most part. She can be a bit, well, focused, don’t you think? Madeline never quite learned how to relax and enjoy a mission.”

  “Madeline is my apprentice and one of my most trusted associates, Mune. Even more so than you, no offense intended.”

  “None taken.”

  “She has done all I have asked of her and more. And if I must say a bit boastfully, her mastery of the magic arts under my instruction over the years has been a source of unending pride.” Caldurian casually waved a hand in front of the fire, causing the flames to leap and spark like an excited pup. “I dare say that when my time has passed, Madeline might well exceed the heights I have attained.”

  Mune shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Perhaps, but I think all that training has gone to her head. She has a much stonier personality than when I first met her. Madeline wouldn’t know how to slow down if Vellan himself cast a relaxation spell upon her.”

  “Sort of like me?”

  “Yes, well… No! I mean, all of you wizards are– Well, everything is so grave and serious with your type all the time. Noses always stuck in a spell book. Most things a life-and-death matter.” Mune unbuttoned his coat, suddenly feeling rather hot. “Not meaning to criticize, but...”

  Caldurian silenced him with a raised hand. “Quit while you’re ahead, Mune.”

  “Good idea.”

  “We wizards can get easily riled. Were you anybody else, you’d have been transformed into a stick of wood by now, sputtering on this fire for uttering such words.” He raised his lips in the slightest of smiles. “But since you’re sitting here, still thinking and breathing, I’d take it as an indication that your service to me in the past, like Madeline’s, has been much appreciated.”