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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “Not to mention severely wounding his pride,” Tolapari said with a smirk, eliciting a round of light laughter from the chamber.

  “That can only help our cause,” the King replied. “Afterward, having time to regroup to full strength over the winter, we can launch a final attack on Kargoth, this time with Rhiál and Maranac at our side. Only then will we have a fighting chance, Eucádus–a realistic chance for a lasting victory.”

  King Justin took his seat as everyone silently absorbed his words, most convinced that his plan seemed a wise course of action. The King glanced at Tolapari, noting a vague smile upon the wizard’s face. He took it as a good sign that his words were both thoughtful and compelling, yet wondered if his idea would ultimately be agreed upon. They were now nearly halfway through the autumn season. With winter soon to be knocking upon their doors, the kingdoms aligned against Vellan had only one realistic chance to make a move against the tyrant before cold and snow gripped Laparia. King Justin lightly drummed his fingers against the side of his chair.

  “That went well,” whispered Nedry, the King’s advisor seated to his left, looking less pale and worried than earlier. Now that a possible strategy appeared imminent, some of the color had returned to Nedry’s thin face and the tightness in his facial muscles had lessened. He combed a hand through his long, graying hair, eagerly awaiting the verdict.

  Though Nedry had been a loyal advisor for many years, the strain of politics in unsettling times had taken its toll upon him. More and more, he was envisioning a quiet retirement to escape the long hours necessary to perform his job. Being at the beck and call of the King had its allure and privileges, but too many sleepless nights and chronic indigestion had worn him out. He wondered if it was time to relinquish his authority to somebody younger.

  “I suppose we’ll find out shortly just how well,” King Justin whispered as he poured himself more wine. A few moments later, Osial cleared his throat to speak as the crowd settled down.

  “You have presented a solid argument, King Justin, one that I will bring back to King Cedric,” he said. “I cannot guarantee that the kingdom of Drumaya will support you, but in light of the new information I have learned today, I cannot guarantee that it will not support you either.”

  “Spoken like a true diplomat,” Eucádus replied. “But since you have not turned us down completely, I will take that as a good sign. However, speaking on behalf of the populations-in-hiding from Harlow, Linden and Surna, I offer our full support to King Justin’s proposal.” He nodded respectfully to the monarch. “Your plan makes sense and I am happy to be a part of it.” He made eye contact with the ambassador from Harlow with whom he had argued earlier. “And to my fellow countryman, I am not sure what details you’ll report of this assembly when you return home, but know that those who have left the mountain nations have not abandoned them. Though we conceal our location until we are ready to fight, remember that it is Harlow, Linden and Surna that we still fight for, and may this knowledge provide you hope that better days are yet possible.”

  “I will let others know what went on here,” the ambassador said graciously. “Though Vellan’s advisors infest our country, I am still a patriot. I’ll communicate our decision on the sly to those who might support a rebellion. Perhaps it’s time for those of us who have become comfortable with the way of things to start preparing for the inevitable stampede, for it is coming from what I’ve heard here today.” He flashed an uneasy grin. “Better to get behind it than in front of it, I suppose.”

  “A wise choice,” Tolapari said.

  Others in turn offered encouraging comments about King Justin’s plan, much to the delight of Lamar, the ambassador from Rhiál. So after twenty minutes of speechifying from a handful of individuals, Lamar finally stood up to thank everyone for their support. But just as he started to speak, a guard in the Blue Citadel quietly entered the chamber through one of the main doors and discreetly caught Nedry’s attention. As Lamar continued talking, the King’s advisor left the table and hurried to the guard, consulting with him in whispers. As the guard spoke, Nedry’s eyes widened in astonishment. A moment later he was standing behind King Justin and speaking softly into his ear.

  King Justin was equally surprised upon hearing the news, turning to Nedry. “They’re here now?” he whispered, not wanting to interrupt Lamar’s speech.

  “Yes,” Nedry replied. “They returned with our scout who found them hiking along King’s Road this morning. Shall I have them brought in?”

  “Of course! Right away. This is both curious and troubling at once. I’m sure the council will think so, too.”

  “And there’s one other thing,” Nedry added, lowering his voice further as he spoke in hushed, grave tones. King Justin went pale at the news, taking a slow, deep breath.

  “Bring them at once,” he ordered.

  “Right away,” Nedry said, hurrying back to the guard who then escorted him out of the chamber to the puzzled looks of many.

  Lamar was equally perplexed and turned to King Justin. “Shall I cut short my remarks? You appear otherwise occupied.”

  “Forgive the interruption, Lamar, but a new wrinkle has just been added to this war council,” he cryptically explained. He noted how Tolapari coolly folded his arms and leaned back, contemplating what the fuss was all about. “Yet fear not, for all shall be revealed, well, right now.”

  The King indicated the opening chamber door that Nedry had exited through moments earlier. Nedry reappeared, followed by two young men in weather-stained traveling clothes, their faces etched with worry. When the captain from Montavia recognized the blond haired brothers, each wearing a silver ring, he immediately stood up and bowed slightly toward them, a look of amazement upon his face. Nedry ushered them to the pair of empty chairs next to Prince Gregory where they were heartily greeted by him and King Justin. When the new arrivals sat down, the captain from Montavia did likewise as murmurs of wonderment enveloped the room.

  “Allow me to introduce our visitors,” King Justin said. “These are Princes Brendan and William, grandsons of King Rowan of Montavia. They have journeyed far to get here, and now we’ll learn the sad facts about why the emissaries from their kingdom had never arrived. I’ll let them speak before we divulge this council’s decision.”

  The two brothers looked at one another, and then Brendan stood to address the crowd. His troubled sea blue eyes scanned the gawking faces before him. “It pains me to report that my homeland of Montavia has been attacked. Soldiers from the Northern Isles have invaded the capital of Triana and some of the larger surrounding villages. They have done so in league with a troop of Enâri creatures led by the wizard Caldurian. I had been told that about five hundred Enâri are in control of my grandfather’s residence of Red Lodge. There are about as many Island troops stationed throughout Triana, though some of them also guard Red Lodge. I have no specifics about troop levels in the other villages. My younger brother and I escaped at the urging of our grandfather to seek help from King Justin, and we are here to do just that.”

  It took no time for Brendan to be peppered with questions regarding the surprise invasion and the safety of King Rowan. He answered each one, particularly pleasing his audience with the story of his and William’s daring escape. Len Harold posed a question when one bit of information started to gnaw at him.

  “When exactly did the invasion occur?” he politely asked.

  “The Islanders and the Enâri launched their attack before dawn fifteen days ago, the twenty-third day of New Autumn.”

  Len did some quick calculations in his head. “The twenty-third day? You’re sure of that date?”

  Brendan nodded. “Quite sure. Why do you ask?”

  Len furrowed his brow as if he were trying to solve a nagging riddle. “Well, because on the twenty-fourth day of New Autumn, I had attended a meeting in my village of Kanesbury where we’ve had our own dealings with the Enâri years ago–and apparently just recently. Not to bore you with all the details, but on
the evening of the twenty-third, Mayor Otto Nibbs had supposedly been visited by one of the Enâri creatures. The next morning he left for a place called Barringer’s Landing to meet with all of them.”

  Tolapari tapped a finger on the tabletop. “And your point would be…?”

  Len glanced at the wizard. “I shall assume that the five hundred Enâri creatures who attacked Montavia are the very same five hundred who reawakened and escaped from the Spirit Caves outside Kanesbury about a month ago.”

  “That seems logical,” King Justin said.

  “If that’s the case, how could Mayor Nibbs have met with the creatures outside our village if they were already in Montavia invading King Rowan’s city?” Len scratched his head. “That would be impossible, so why would Otto have said it?” he whispered, more to himself than to the others as the thought continued to nag him.

  “As interesting a puzzle as that is, we now have a bigger problem to deal with,” Tolapari said. “How do we save Montavia? Earlier I was contemplating the war in the south and Vellan’s hand in it. He has used Island troops to assist in flaming the tensions between Rhiál and Maranac. And since the two emissaries from Montavia never arrived here, I began to speculate what would happen if Vellan had also encouraged the Northern Isles to invade that kingdom. Now my suspicions have been confirmed. He has done just that, trying to develop a third foothold in Laparia directly on the eastern border of Arrondale.” The possibility sent ripples of alarm throughout the gathering. “If Vellan succeeds, he’ll have Arrondale in his aim on three different fronts–from the northeast, the southeast and the southwest, with Arrondale’s back to the Trillium Sea. It would only be a matter of time before this kingdom fell and Laparia was totally consumed.”

  “And after that horrible outcome, Vellan will continue to grow and multiply his massive forces, finally sending his deadly plague west across the Tunara Plains to the wizards’ valley for his ultimate revenge,” King Justin added, reluctantly contemplating such a dark world with Vellan at its helm. “It is a bleak future I portend, but unless we act now, I fear it will become a reality.”

  He told Brendan and William about the council’s decision to send armies from both Arrondale and the trio of small nations in the Northern Mountains to aid Rhiál in its war with Maranac. They readily agreed with the decision, only asking that part of the force from Arrondale be reserved to repel the invasion in their homeland.

  “The troops from Montavia that are now training here will be honored to ride alongside any forces you would assign to this mission,” Prince Brendan said. “Montavia must be freed before the Northern Isles send reinforcements.”

  “It goes without saying that Arrondale will aid its neighbor,” King Justin replied. “I’ll split the army that I was going to send to Rhiál and therefore must raise more recruits before we launch our offensive.” He looked across the table at Osial. “It is now even more important that you convince King Cedric to join Eucádus and his troops when they ride east. Drumaya’s help is imperative.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he promised.

  “And should the representative from Drumaya need assistance in convincing his good King of our plight,” Eucádus interjected, “I suggest he invite both Prince Brendan and Prince William to speak with King Cedric himself. After all, they now know firsthand of the danger that faces us all.”

  “Point well taken,” Osial returned, “though I can handle the discussion with my King. But thank you for the suggestion.”

  “You’re welcome,” Eucádus said with a rebellious gleam in his eyes, noting that both Brendan and William were valiantly trying to conceal their mirth at the exchange.

  “Yes, well, very good then,” King Justin said, taking back the reins of the meeting. “And after everyone returns to their respective homelands, our messengers will surely be busy in the days ahead as we coordinate strategies. We now stand at the tenth day of Mid Autumn. The winter season begins the month after next. By this time next month, I hope the fortunes of Laparia will look brighter. So on that note, I officially dismiss this council.”

  King Justin sharply pounded his fist on the table, offering an encouraging smile. At that same moment, the gathering responded with appreciative applause for the King’s hospitality and leadership over the last few days. Soon the room was awash with conversation as the bustling crowd arose, some individuals slowly making their way to the exits, eager to partake of a meal or to depart Morrenwood at once, while others lingered about the chamber or in the adjacent corridor to discuss the particulars of what had just transpired. The flames in the two fireplaces snapped in the air like snake tongues, releasing comforting billows of heat that wafted up to the rafters, gently swaying the array of small tapestries and colorful garlands strung across the ceiling.

  The sound of applause disturbed his dreams, followed by an incessant chattering that annoyed him to no end. Can’t they just leave me alone and let me sleep? It had been such an arduous trip across the kingdom and he wanted only a bit of rest and nothing more. Why are they so noisy? But the maddening talk continued, so he was determined to say something to quiet them up.

  Dooley suddenly opened his eyes, irritated for a moment until his vision focused on a portion of the ceiling nearly pressed to his face. He tried to sit up until he realized his left arm was wedged through a carved hole in an adjoining piece of woodwork next to the large oak beam he was now lying upon. He remembered where he was, realizing he must have dozed off for a moment as the remnants of his dream dissolved. He felt much better now and fully refreshed, eager to listen in on the war council that was beginning below. He glanced to his right, and through the opening in the hood draped over his head, and through the web of rafters and shadows and the parade of tapestries and garland hanging nearby, he could barely make out the movement of bodies as a palette of colors drifted below. He could not discern any of the faces connected to the glimpses of head tops, shoulders and feet meandering about, but he could distinctly hear snippets of conversation that the excellent chamber acoustics provided. Dooley eagerly paid attention, waiting for the preliminaries to conclude so he could absorb the crux of the gathering.

  “It’s been an enlightening few days here at the Citadel.”

  “I can’t wait to get back to Linden now, sit down and enjoy a roasted pheasant! Why, it’s as if…”

  “…and I’ll be sure to send word that…”

  Dooley wrinkled his brow as he listened to the bits of conversation that appeared to be drifting out of the chamber and into the adjoining corridor where the huge tapestry of Morrenwood hung, splashed in the radiant glory of the four seasons. As the silence in the chamber deepened, except for a few leftover voices, he felt a cold knot form in the pit of his stomach. His heart pounded and his palms began to sweat. Dooley wondered what Farnsworth would say to him when he returned home. He feared what Caldurian would do to him the next time they met. His lips began to quiver. He realized with horror that he had slept through the entire war council.

  END OF PART THREE

  PART FOUR

  PRELUDE TO WAR

  CHAPTER 28

  One Lit Candle

  Monstrous flames crackled wildly in the bitter breezes rolling off the Trillium Sea and across the grasslands. Nicholas glanced up at the stars but found no comfort in them as he sat on a log and warmed his aching body in front of the bonfire. They appeared cold and aloof staring down upon the stony shore, not concerned about the travails that had befallen either of the two men huddled close to the blaze. It had been a couple of hours since the soldiers from the Northern Isles had attacked Nicholas and Leo, leaving them unconscious as they kidnapped Ivy, her desperate screams still echoing in their minds. Nicholas imagined her being hauled off to the ship and sailing away across the cold, cruel waves. Though he shivered and his head burned, he felt more wretched for Ivy’s plight than his own. The Trillium Sea was vast and the Northern Isles might as well be on the other side of the world. He thought about how he could possibly reach the
Isles, and if he ever did so, how he would locate Ivy.

  He recalled their predawn conversation by the fireplace in Castella’s kitchen three days ago, though it seemed like weeks had passed since they shared that tender moment. He was overwhelmed by the dizzying sweep of events that had led them from there to here, part of him wondering if he would ever see Ivy again. Hope drained from his heart as he warmed himself by the fire. He glanced at Leo sitting close by, his friend having the worst of the injuries.

  “How’s your wrist?”

  Leo turned his head, making an effort to smirk. “Feels a lot better than the back of my noggin, but I think I’ll live. On the bright side, I’ll probably get a good sleep tonight.”

  “Sporadic bouts of unconsciousness will do that for you,” Nicholas said, trying to keep the mood light. “And you have your choice of tents, too. No second class accommodations here.”

  Five abandoned tents, tormented by the wind, lined the edge of the tall grass. The other three bonfires once blazing along shore had burned down to glowing embers. A short distance away, their two horses wandered through the field with the pair of steeds from Madeline and Mune’s wagon. They would begin the return trip to Boros in the wagon tomorrow morning, neither having any idea how to break the sad news about Ivy to Castella, her aunt and uncle at the candle shop, or her parents in Laurel Corners whom they had not yet met. A cold and dispiriting journey awaited them.

  “Part of me doesn’t want to leave, Leo. Maybe if I stayed awhile…”

  Leo glanced at his friend and shook his head, guessing that Nicholas blamed himself for Ivy’s kidnapping. As he stared back into the fire, he couldn’t help feel responsible himself, but knew that wallowing in their regrets wouldn’t bring her back. “Nicholas, the ship’s not going to return,” he flatly stated. “And delaying our return won’t accomplish anything except to prolong her family’s anguish.”