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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “I’ll uphold my end of the bargain as long as you do the same. Though you’re not off to an auspicious start by losing that key.”

  Farnsworth stood and added another log to the fire. “I’m sorry, but that was unanticipated. But I’ve done everything else you asked for, and a little extra.” He returned to his seat. “Nicholas Raven is gone, just like you wanted. You won’t have to worry about him showing up here any time soon,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “If I might ask, why was it so important to get rid of that kid in the first place? How does he fit into your plans?”

  The wizard held up a finger. “If you needed to know, then I would have told you.”

  “I’m only curious. What has Nicholas ever done to you?”

  Caldurian smiled grimly. “I’ve never met the man nor laid eyes on him. In fact, the only thing I know about Nicholas Raven is that he resides on Maynard Kurtz’ property, and that’s all that really concerns me.” The wizard noted that his answer only raised more questions of the man sitting opposite him. “Put your curiosity in check, Mr. Farnsworth. My business is my own. We may have a deal but we are definitely not partners. I am in charge and don’t forget it. I will tell you what you need to know and when you need to know it. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly,” he softly said.

  “Good. Now on to other matters. Do you have any information about the location of the Spirit Box that Otto Nibbs took possession of twenty years ago?”

  “I’m afraid not, sir,” he said with a sigh. “On three occasions Dooley and I broke into the mayor’s home while he was away. We searched each room several times over, being careful not to disturb anything. No luck. It is definitely not in his house.”

  “Too bad,” Caldurian said, massaging his temple. “Perhaps it’s hidden elsewhere in the village or maybe Otto passed it along to King Justin over the years.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Lots of reasons,” he replied, recalling how the wizard Frist had created the iron box over which he had cast a spell preventing it from being opened by any force other than a single, magic key. “As the years passed and the box remained closed, leaders in Morrenwood may have realized what a powerful weapon they would possess should the key eventually turn up. No doubt King Justin’s network of spies has made him aware of the growth of the Enâri race in Kargoth. What a blow to Vellan it would be if his creation was destroyed.” He pounded his fist on the arm of the chair as his face tightened. “I detest this uncertainty! Now I have neither the key nor the box. Without at least one of them, I can’t assure the survival of the Enâri. Without them both, I can’t control the Enâri.” He paused a moment, his shoulders slumping. “Still, I must forge ahead without that luxury. Perhaps the Enâr who betrayed me has already disposed of the key so that no one will ever find it. That most likely was his intention. I’ll just have to live with it. Now, was there something else you wanted to tell me, Mr. Farnsworth?”

  “Yes!” he said, trumpeting an encouraging note. “Since you wanted me to get rid of Nicholas Raven, I put some extra thought into the process, hoping to take full advantage of the situation.”

  “Meaning?” he asked, teetering on the brink of impatience.

  “Meaning that I didn’t merely get rid of him. Instead, I replaced him,” Farnsworth said with a satisfied grin.

  He quickly explained how he and Dooley had framed Nicholas for robbing Ned Adams’ gristmill and told of Nicholas’ subsequent flight from the constable. He purposely left out how they had kidnapped Adelaide Cooper, an inconvenient witness to the frame, who was now bound and gagged in his cellar. Should the wizard ever find out, Farnsworth feared that Caldurian would further question his competence in handling matters. He told the wizard that the unexpected murder of Arthur Weeks, now also blamed on Nicholas, probably sent him fleeing out of the county with a reputation beyond repair. He assured Caldurian that Nicholas Raven would never be heard from again.

  “So at a party last night, I cornered Ned Adams and shrewdly suggested that he consider Dooley Kramer as Nicholas’ replacement, considering all that Dooley had done to assist in discovering the thief. Well, Ned was quite taken with my idea, I’ll tell you. He gave me many warm words of praise.”

  Caldurian folded his arms and sighed. “This helps me how?”

  “Dooley’s immediate duties will be to finish making any final deliveries before winter sets in, including a large shipment of flour to Morrenwood.” He flashed a scheming grin colored coppery-gold by the flames. “A large part of the shipment goes directly to the storage cellars in the Blue Citadel. Would you turn your back on an extra set of eyes and ears in the enemy’s camp?”

  “That depends if the eyes and ears are attached to somebody with a brain in full working order.”

  Farnsworth took the wizard’s comment in stride, detecting the slightest hint of satisfaction on the man’s face. He knew he had scored a minor victory with this bit of handiwork, hoping to make up for some of the inconvenience he had caused by losing the key. At least Caldurian would leave here on a positive note.

  “Your associate may come in handy. I’ll get word to you if I need his services,” Caldurian said. “But I will definitely need your assistance again, Mr. Farnsworth.”

  “Certainly, sir. What can I do?”

  “Shortly after I meet with the Enâri, we will head north to the shores above the Keppel Mountains. I have a meeting planned there with allies from the Northern Isles.”

  “You’re tangled up with the Islanders?”

  “Don’t look so shocked. They may have a militant streak, but they’re just the kind of people Vellan requires to complete his task. I most likely will borrow a few of those troops to assist with my own work here.”

  Farnsworth didn’t like the sound of that. He knew the wizard had less-than-honorable intentions for Kanesbury, particularly Otto Nibbs, and was willing to let him have his way with the village as long as he and Dooley were rewarded in the end. But to bring in soldiers from the Northern Isles? Did Caldurian want to ruin the village before he could get his hands on it? Before he could worm his way into a position of power and make a name for himself? That was the point, after all, of spending four laborious years in an effort to contact the wizard through a complicated web of intermediaries. Farnsworth had wanted to make a deal in exchange for the key, to find out what it was worth to the wizard to get his hands on it. He didn’t want his prize damaged before he could collect. He had put too much work into this.

  Farnsworth recalled a day almost five years ago when he happened to spot Dooley Kramer sitting alone on his front step, lost in thought. Dooley was fingering a metal object attached to a length of twine that he always kept around his neck. Farnsworth believed the piece of metal looked like a key and was about to inquire as he walked by, startling him from his daydream. Dooley quickly concealed the object down the front of his shirt, refusing to say what it was before finally bolting indoors.

  Farnsworth, however, had his suspicions. While he had never been a close friend with his neighbor, thinking Dooley slovenly and uncultured, he always acted civilly toward him. But ever since the incident on the front step, he had made it a point to engage Dooley in conversation whenever they met, though never mentioning the object hanging around his neck.

  After cultivating a friendship of sorts and earning his trust over the months, Farnsworth invited Dooley for drinks one evening at the Iron Kettle Tavern, refusing to let him pay for even one mug of ale. Hours later, after several downed mugs and a half bottle of gin to boot, Dooley was freely babbling about his life’s story in a corner table away from other curious ears. Farnsworth easily broached the subject of his hidden possession later that night and was entertained with a tale from Dooley’s childhood about an eagle, a scheming young boy and a magic iron key.

  The next day when sobered up, Dooley realized with horror that Zachary Farnsworth knew everything. It wasn’t long afterward that Farns
worth suggested they team up and take advantage of the opportunity that had been hanging around his neck for fifteen years. Dooley agreed, realizing he had no choice, especially with subtle reminders from Farnsworth warning him how much trouble he could land in if village leaders, or even officials to the King, should ever find out that he possessed the key to the Spirit Box. Dooley wondered how anyone could find out, unless Farnsworth himself informed them. But he never pushed the point and agreed to Farnsworth’s idea of seeking out the wizard Caldurian if at all possible, the one person who might bargain generously for the key.

  So after many wrong turns, dead ends and leads that went cold, Farnsworth finally made contact with the first of many intermediaries and negotiated an initial meeting with Caldurian four years after learning that Dooley possessed the key. Farnsworth and Dooley concocted a tale about how Dooley had obtained the key, telling the wizard that he had won it from a stranger while gambling in a tavern. Dooley feared that if Caldurian ever found out he had injured his eagle as a child in order to steal the key, then he would be as good as dead. Farnsworth often reminded him of that fact.

  Now, a year later after their first meeting, Zachary Farnsworth again sat face to face with Caldurian in the dead of night in his own home. What further machinations this wizard had planned, he couldn’t begin to guess.

  “Exactly what kind of additional help do you need from me, sir? And how do those Northern Islanders fit into the picture?”

  “Don’t let them rattle you,” Caldurian assured him. “After I meet with them above the Keppel Mountains regarding Vellan’s instructions, I shall have a private meeting with an individual who is sailing over on one of their ships.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said cryptically. “Arileez is his name. He lived alone on one of the smaller, uninhabited islands and has agreed to assist me. You will find him a most intriguing fellow.”

  “He’s coming here?” Farnsworth uttered with a sense of foreboding.

  “Yes. You will answer any questions Arileez has–in explicit detail, mind you–about Kanesbury and its people.”

  “Why?”

  “That you will find out as necessary.”

  Farnsworth nodded anxiously. “When and where am I to meet this Arileez fellow?”

  A snake-like smile spread across the wizard’s face. “He’ll find you in his own time and manner. Rest assured.”

  “If only I could,” he thought a short time later after Caldurian had departed and he replayed the wizard’s troubling words in his mind. Farnsworth remained on edge all night, frantically wondering what trials he would yet have to endure before finally getting his due.

  Caldurian arrived at Barringer’s Landing at dawn as a ribbon of pale yellow light stretched across the eastern horizon. Patches of thin grass and thorny brush squeezed out of the barren soil north of the Spirit Caves. Several abandoned barns and dilapidated fencing stood as silhouettes, a testament to failed attempts over the years to cultivate the unyielding tract of land. This served as an ideal location for a temporary camp for the wizard’s small army.

  Caldurian flung open a set of barn doors as the morning unveiled its ashen face. A feathery mist lay on the ground. Inside, the remains of several campfires sputtered and cooled on the dirt floor, surrounded by dozens of sleeping bodies. The Enâri had sprawled out wherever space was available, either on the floor or in the upper lofts.

  The wizard shook his head in amused disbelief. “Twenty years of sleep, and what do they do?” he muttered.

  He walked over to the Enâr closest to the doorway who was snoring near a small fire. Caldurian recognized the creature as Gwyn, one who had served as the wizard’s aide during their travels twenty years ago. Apparently Gwyn was still acknowledged as the ranking Enâr among the group. Caldurian was pleased since he had served admirably in the past.

  The wizard nudged Gwyn gently with his foot, causing him to jump instantly to his feet in a defensive stance while wielding a dagger in the chilly morning air. He looked wildly around as his eyes adjusted to the faint morning light.

  “Return that knife to its sheath, Gwyn. I’ve had too few hours sleep last night and am hardly in any condition to fight.”

  Gwyn blinked rapidly, eyeing the wizard framed against the milky dawn outside the door. He loosened his grip on the knife. “Is that really you, Caldurian? Has our leader returned?” he asked in a gravelly voice typical of the Enâri. Two rows of large crooked teeth attempted a smile, and for a brief moment Gwyn’s stony face, framed by tangles of long dark hair, seemed a bit less frightful than usual.

  “Your leader has indeed returned, though your true master still resides in his stronghold in Kargoth,” Caldurian said. “However, Vellan has one more task for you to perform before you’ll have the privilege of returning to serve at his side.”

  “I understand,” Gwyn replied, sheathing his knife. “We are ready to serve Vellan. You need only tell us how.”

  Caldurian directed him to awake the Enâri sleeping in two other barns nearby and gather them into this one building which was the largest. Gwyn dispatched a few scouts and several minutes later the barn was packed solid with Enâri. Most stood, though some sat in the lofts or perched on the rafters, all anxious to hear the wizard.

  “We’ll hike north of the Keppel Mountains to meet with our allies from the Northern Isles. Together, we’ll march boldly into the tiny kingdom of Montavia and establish a foothold for Vellan in the northeast,” he explained. “Twenty years ago he attempted to impose order on Laparia through diplomacy with disastrous results. This time Vellan will strike a blow with a force and fury that cannot be repelled. He will have his way with your help.”

  Several Enâri eagerly asked for details about the impending conquest of Montavia and of Vellan’s intentions afterward. As good as it felt to be free from the Spirit Caves, it was even more exhilarating to again have a purpose by serving their true leader.

  “Vellan already dominates the Northern Mountains. And he’s had his fingers in the war between Rhiál and Maranac in the southeast, secretly manipulating events. Matters should come to a boil in those parts soon enough,” Caldurian said. “So, my friends, we are the next rock in the foundation. We will establish ourselves in Montavia with aid from the Northern Isles. I don’t expect much resistance. Montavia is a rural, peaceful kingdom. I think it boasts of more livestock than people,” he scoffed. “The capital of Triana will fall like autumn leaves.”

  “And then?” an Enâr asked from deep in the crowd.

  Caldurian smiled. “Then we complete by force what we had failed to do twenty years ago by word. We hit Morrenwood from three directions like lightning bolts!” He slapped his hands sharply. “And when King Justin’s capital crumbles like a house of straw, the kingdom of Arrondale will fall in line with nary a whimper. Then all of Laparia will be in Vellan’s control!”

  The Enâri pounded their fists on the cold ground and wildly cheered, creating a brief uproar that chased the sleep from their heads. “This time we will prevail!” one shouted out.

  “I have no doubt,” the wizard said. “No doubt whatsoever.”

  Caldurian noted, even after all this time, how eager they still were to please Vellan out of sheer devotion. He also wanted to please the wizard of Kargoth with a rousing success, though realized that his loyalty had not aged as well as the Enâri’s over the passing years. He suspected it would never reach such levels again.

  They remained on Barringer’s Landing until dusk. Caldurian met privately with Gwyn and a few other higher ranking Enâri to plan their journey to the Keppel Mountains. He calculated a five or six day march. The Enâri could easily hunt the food they needed, though Vellan created them to endure harsh conditions for days at a time with limited food and water. Caldurian did, however, transform piles of dried hay in one of the barns into heavy cloaks, one for each Enâr to combat the cold autumn nights.

  His last piece of business before they departed con
cerned the missing member of their troop. In a brief discussion with Gwyn, Caldurian learned that the Enâr who had fled was named Jagga.

  “After we escaped from the caves and arrived here, I counted to make sure everyone had made it safely back,” he said. “Of the five hundred, only one was missing. I dispatched scouts to look for him, but they returned empty handed. We searched the fields the next morning but were equally unsuccessful.”

  “Jagga wasn’t lost or injured,” Caldurian said. “He deserted your ranks in an effort to satisfy his own selfish desires.” The wizard explained how Jagga had tricked Gavin into revealing the whereabouts of the key. “And since the key was stolen, I can only assume that Jagga was the one who had murdered to get it. But where he is now...” Caldurian shrugged. “Perhaps he’ll dispose of the key to protect all the Enâri or find his way back to Vellan and let him destroy it. But in either case, none of our enemies have it.”

  “Still, I brand Jagga a traitor now that I know what became of him,” Gwyn said bitterly. “He violated his pact with this group. I would kill him were he here now!”

  “I don’t doubt that you would. But vengeance at its proper time,” the wizard said with longing. “Savor the thought for now.”

  Just after sunset, after Gwyn had ordered the Enâri in line, Caldurian started them on their trek to the Black Hills and beyond. The crisp twilight air heightened their senses. The Fox Moon, nearly at first quarter, cast a gentle light from high above to guide them. Only a few miles west in Kanesbury, the third night of the Harvest Festival had commenced.

  CHAPTER 9

  A Change in Direction

  Nicholas hiked northwest along Grangers Road into hilly farmland with only thoughts of Katherine keeping him company. After leaving the security of Amanda Stewart’s ice cellar almost two hours ago, he had weaved his way through the village in secret, hiding in shadows or taking refuge among trees, careful to avoid any festival revelers. He stayed away from River Road altogether, certain it would be the first place that Constable Brindle and his men would patrol.