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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  When they were escorted into the meeting chamber, Oscar and Maynard were relieved to see the other four council members and Constable Brindle talking among themselves while seated on benches near the main table. About twenty soldiers stood guard, some near each entrance while others paced along the sides.

  “Go with your friends,” the soldier in charge ordered before stepping away to consult with his colleagues. Oscar and Maynard quickly joined their companions.

  “It’s good to see you two,” Len Harold said with a weary smile, shaking their hands. “We wondered if you had been taken elsewhere or maybe escaped.”

  “No chance of that,” Maynard replied. “Kanesbury is crawling with these brutes. How are the five of you holding up?”

  “My day keeps getting better and better,” Ned Adams grimly joked. “First the fire and now this. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.”

  “What will it bring?” Oscar wondered aloud. “Have they told you anything?”

  “Nothing,” Constable Brindle said, glancing cautiously at the display of force scattered about the room.

  “I’d rather not engage any of these soldiers in conversation just now,” one of the other council members said. “They don’t appear to be the amiable type.”

  “That they aren’t,” the constable agreed. “And though they haven’t hurt anyone yet from what I’ve heard, I can see in their eyes that they wouldn’t hesitate to strike down a man if provoked.” Clay glanced at Maynard, his eyes welling with regret. “I’m sorry, but there were too many of them for my deputies and volunteers to handle. A few hundred maybe from the reports I received before they took me prisoner. I can’t say for sure.”

  “We were all overwhelmed, Clay. No need to apologize,” he said. “I should have listened and sent for help as soon as Otto gave his warning. But who would have expected this?” He indicated the slew of armed soldiers and noted the stunned disbelief still evident on the faces of his companions.

  “So what do we do now?” Len asked.

  Maynard took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you one thing–we just don’t stand here like cattle chewing their cuds.” He removed his coat and folded it over a bench, then spotted one of the soldiers who he thought might be in charge. “I’m still mayor, after all, despite the threat of a sword. I intend to find out what’s happening to my village. Excuse me, gentlemen.” He confidently strode over to one corner of the room where several soldiers were engaged in conversation.

  “Maynard, wait!” Ned warned, fearing for his safety.

  But Maynard ignored his words and walked over to the soldiers. They saw him approaching at once, however, and ordered him to stop with the show of swords.

  “Back with your friends!” one of the men barked.

  “We want to know what’s going on,” he pleaded. “As mayor of Kanesbury, it is my duty to inquire.”

  The soldier marched forward, grabbed Maynard by the arm and dragged him back to his friends. “Right now you are mayor in name only. Your power means nothing,” he said with contempt.

  “Why are you holding us?” Oscar demanded.

  “You’ll find out tomorrow when the new leader of Kanesbury makes his arrival.” The soldier noted the surprise on their faces with amusement. “He’ll answer your questions then. In the meantime, this is your home for the night. We’ll provide food and blankets later if you don’t annoy us any further.”

  He abruptly left to finish his conversation. Maynard and the others sat down on the benches, forming a tight circle as they continued their discussion, speculating about who was behind this cruel invasion of their lives and how their families were holding up in the process. Most felt as if the morning sun would never arrive.

  Oscar opened his eyes, wondering where he had passed the night in such an uncomfortable bed. His back ached and his cheeks and the tip of his nose felt cool to the touch. The walls and ceiling were painted with the cold, gray of morning. As he sat up, a wool blanket slipped off him, revealing his coat snugly buttoned all the way up to the neck. Now he remembered, having chosen to sleep on the floor rather than the benches as they were too narrow and uncomfortable. The oil lamps attached to the walls had been turned low during the night. He grinned when he saw his friends dozing on the floor as well, but they were abruptly awakened moments later by the thunderous tolling of the bell above the building.

  “What in blazes was that?” Clay Brindle shouted, sitting up like a corpse brought suddenly back to life. He gazed about the room, wide-eyed and confused.

  “It’s to signal the change of the guard around the village,” a soldier explained as he added wood to the fireplace.

  “Well a fine way to greet a new day,” the constable muttered as he stretched the knots out of his neck and shoulders. “I hoped it might have been a call to breakfast. You do plan to provide us that, don’t you?”

  “Eventually,” said a voice from behind him. Another soldier approached, appearing to be in charge. “But first we’ll allow you time to gather your wits and wash up. We want you looking your best when we leave.”

  “Where are we going?” Maynard asked, sitting on one of the benches and appearing very tired. He rubbed a hand over his face and yawned.

  “To breakfast, of course,” the soldier replied. “And to meet your new leader.”

  “That’ll be the day,” Ned Adams said with icy bitterness.

  “Easy,” Oscar cautioned him, not wanting to cause trouble and risk harm to anyone. “The sun has barely risen yet. Let’s save that emotion until after we find out who we’re dealing with.”

  “A wise suggestion,” the soldier replied.

  A stream of air disgustedly escaped between Ned’s pursed lips. “I already suspect who we’re dealing with, Oscar. But I’ll behave until we learn what kind of a fix we’re in.”

  “Where are we going?” Maynard asked again.

  “Not far,” the soldier replied. “Somewhere with a table large enough to accommodate all of you, unless you’d prefer to eat here.”

  “I didn’t even want to sleep here,” Len Harold joked.

  “Then it’s settled. We leave in an hour,” the soldier said, walking away to attend to other business as Maynard and his six puzzled companions continued to discuss matters among themselves.

  They departed the village hall on foot precisely one hour later, heading west for almost two blocks until they reached the park. A small contingent of soldiers led the way while several more followed from behind through the cold, deserted streets. Patches of dirty white clouds drifted overhead upon a chilly breeze. The seven prisoners followed the angled street southwest along the park until they turned onto another road curving northwest all the way to the Pine River. Few houses were built on this particular street, though everyone knew who owned the last home near the water’s edge.

  “Are we going where I think we’re going?” Ned whispered to Clay Brindle who walked beside him.

  “I think so,” he curiously replied. “Of all places, considering everything that’s happened. And I thought these last few days couldn’t get any stranger.”

  Most everyone thought the same thing as they neared Otto Nibbs’ house, a large, one-story building built of gray stones of various hues with oak beams and a clay tile roof. It stood quietly nestled on the banks of the river among a healthy thicket of maple and pine trees. Delicate trails of bluish smoke rose from the chimney in a series of graceful swirls, slowly dissipating in the milky skies. If he hadn’t known otherwise, Ned would have guessed that Otto had started a welcoming fire and placed a pot of tea on, waiting to receive his friends for breakfast on a fine autumn morning. But he was more than sure who really awaited them on this troubling day.

  Two soldiers stood guard near the front door and several others patrolled the grounds. As Maynard Kurtz, Constable Brindle and the five council members walked up a stone pathway to the entrance, the door suddenly flew open. A tall man in a long, black cloak stepped out of the shadows. Ned smirked as soon as he noted the ma
n’s unkempt tangles of iron gray hair, a pointed beard and a pair of dark, menacing eyes, his worst fears unsurprisingly confirmed.

  “Did you set fire to my gristmill yourself, Caldurian, or did you hire one of your thugs?” he sputtered.

  “And good morning to you, too, Mr. Adams,” the wizard replied, unfazed by the comment. “I’m pleased that you remember me after twenty years.”

  “We all do,” Maynard said dryly. “Tell us, why are we here? And more importantly, why are you here? I don’t recall extending you an invitation to visit our village. The last time any of us saw the great wizard Caldurian, he and his friend, Madeline, were being escorted out of our village by a company of King Justin’s finest soldiers–and neither of you looked too happy about it.”

  “You were both marched to the southern border of Arrondale like common criminals and told never to return,” Oscar gleefully recounted. “Did you forget that part?”

  “Apparently I have trouble following directions,” Caldurian said with good humor. “Now if you’re through flinging such obvious taunts, you’re all invited to join me for breakfast where we can have a real conversation.”

  “About what?” Ned asked.

  “About the new order of things,” he replied. “I’m sure you’ll find the details most intriguing.”

  The eight sat down to their meal in a large kitchen warmed by a crackling fire. A table was already set for breakfast. In the center was a mouthwatering display of food–a crock of steaming scrambled eggs with wild mushrooms and herbs, a platter of fried beef strips, loaves of freshly baked bread alongside bowls of butter and honey, and on either end, bunches of purple grapes and glistening red apples. Caldurian served them tea from a large kettle hanging on the hearth before he sat down, signaling for everyone to dig in before the food got cold. A few of the soldiers stood guard in the adjacent rooms, allowing the wizard privacy with his guests.

  “Let it not be said that I wasn’t civil to my captives,” the wizard remarked as he buttered a slice of bread to have with his tea.

  “The raid upon my house last night was anything but civil,” Oscar replied as he gulped down a forkful of eggs and beef. “So don’t think that this elaborate meal is going to excuse it.”

  “I apologize if my colleagues from the Isles were less than courteous, but I had instructed them to lay down the law–my law,” he explained. “However, if you promise to give me your cooperation and help keep the peace, there is no reason why my stay in Kanesbury need be unpleasant for anybody.” He noted a frosty glare from Ned Adams. “Unpleasant from this point forward anyway.”

  “Cooperation with what?” Constable Brindle asked. “Why don’t you just come out and say what you have to say? No need to pretend to act all friendly and such by providing us breakfast,” he added as he stabbed a second slice of beef with his fork and plopped it on his plate. “We’re still your prisoners, after all.”

  “I agree,” Maynard said. “And though I appreciate the pleasantries, they’ll do nothing to excuse your presence in my village. You’re an invader, Caldurian. A criminal. So we expect you to be blunt. What exactly do you want?”

  The wizard leaned back in his chair, enjoying a quiet laugh. “I admire your desire to get right to the point, Mayor Kurtz, so I will do just that. Simply put, I am taking over your village as well as the odd piece of property here and there to accommodate my needs. And if I don’t have the cooperation of each citizen in Kanesbury, there will be dire consequences, perhaps even deadly ones.” He sipped his tea, punctuating his point with a raised eyebrow. “Blunt enough for you?”

  Ned slapped his fork on his plate and pushed it aside. “What’s your game, Caldurian? You couldn’t destroy Kanesbury twenty years ago, so you’ve come back to finish the job? We know your creatures have been released from the Spirit Caves, so why bother us now?”

  “I have my reasons,” he said, getting up from his chair to wander about the room. Faint splashes of sunshine flowed in through a small eastern window while a view of the Pine River was visible through a larger window in the west wall. “But I will tell you that my demands must be followed–or else.”

  Maynard sighed as he tossed a cloth napkin on the table and glanced at Caldurian. “All right, wizard. I’ll play along with your little game. Tell us what you want. We can’t wait to hear,” he said sarcastically, eliciting a few grins from the others. “And you apparently can’t wait to tell us either.”

  “As a matter of fact, I can’t,” he said, standing at the head of the table while addressing his prisoners, enjoying the fact that they were helpless to do anything but listen. “First, though I have already taken control of Kanesbury, I want all of you to give me your approval at a public announcement in the village hall so that the citizens can witness this transfer of power.”

  “Ridiculous!” Maynard shouted. “I won’t do it. Nobody would believe it.”

  “I don’t care if they believe it, sir. I only want them to experience the spectacle,” the wizard said. “Besides, if the public doesn’t support me–and that means first supporting you–why, the alternative methods to force their cooperation might be a tad, shall I say, unsavory?”

  Maynard looked at Oscar and Constable Brindle, noting the expressions of helpless resignation upon their faces that matched those of the other council members. He realized that the men were angry and disgusted at what the wizard was saying, yet helpless to do anything about it while the village was held hostage. He nodded sympathetically to his friends, displaying an equal amount of subdued rage and revulsion. But inside, Arileez was delighted that Caldurian was handling the situation with such seasoned aplomb.

  “Tell us what else you want!” Maynard said, his tone icy.

  “As my second demand, I want you to serve as my intermediary,” the wizard continued. “Whether I get the pretended or actual support of your people, with it will inevitably come a slew of demands and complaints that I have no desire to deal with firsthand. I require someone people will trust to weed out those few matters that I truly need to address, and that person is you, Maynard. Subjects that don’t require my attention will be left to you and your associates to handle through my captains.”

  “Does that mean he’s still our mayor?” Len Harold asked.

  “Call him what you will,” the wizard replied, “but just know that he answers to me at the end of the day. I’m running this village.”

  Constable Brindle leaned back doubtfully, folding his arms. “Pardon my skepticism, but just how do you intend to enforce all of this? How can you take over a village in the kingdom of Arrondale without anybody outside discovering it? Or without any of us inside fighting back or escaping?”

  “Excellent questions,” Caldurian said, pointing at the constable with mock pride as if he were a student. “But I have considered those points from all angles and am quite satisfied with my plan. Taking your last point first, escape is nearly impossible.”

  “How so?” Oscar curiously asked.

  The wizard retook his seat, helping himself to more bread and tea as if he were talking among old friends. “Already I have posted a large contingent of soldiers at each of the four main entrances to the village, all armed but dressed in civilian garb. They’ll be there all day and night gathered around large bonfires to get people’s attention. Groups are stationed at both ends of River Road, and another group each to Grangers and Deerfly Roads as well. As winter is fast approaching and the harvesting is done, travel between the villages has already slowed to a trickle. But since redlin fever has swept through the village, no one from the outside will have any desire to visit Kanesbury for a time and poke their noses in my business.”

  “Redlin fever? What are you talking about?” one of the other councilmen asked. “There’s no such epidemic here nor has there been for over thirty years.”

  “Well there is now,” Caldurian replied. “At least there’ll be rumor of one, and that will be just as effective as the actual fever. Anyone approaching the village along e
ither end of River Road will be informed that redlin fever has spread through Kanesbury, and if they choose, will be quickly escorted through the village and on their merry way. The few houses on the main road will be vacated. Strips of red cloth will be nailed to those porch posts as a warning of the fever as is custom during such an epidemic.”

  “You’ve thought this through,” Ned remarked with grudging respect.

  “I’ve had twenty years,” the wizard said. “And anyone trying to enter the village from either Grangers Road or Deerfly Road will be turned back and told to make their way around the village by other roads. Those two roads lead into the heart of Kanesbury and pose too much of a risk to my operation even with an escort.”

  “You may have the roads covered,” Maynard countered, “but some of us could easily escape through the Cumberland Forest on our southern border or across the Pine River to the north. And there’s plenty of farmland at either end to flee through. Surely you can’t seal us inside this village completely.”

  “Oh, I think I can.” He offered a grim smile. “I’m afraid escape won’t be possible, and this is where I’ll especially need your voice to convince the citizens to obey my orders. I have countless soldiers hidden in the eaves of the Cumberland and among the trees along the river. They’re also patrolling every open section encircling the village, hiding among the weeds and rocks or inside barns and sheds. Anywhere and everywhere. And these men are some of the finest archers from the Northern Isles. I’ve ordered them to fire upon anyone trying to escape–anyone. No warnings. No questions asked. Just an arrow sailing noiselessly through the air–and then a dead body falling. And the corpse will be left on the ground where it falls to rot or become food for the night scavengers,” the wizard coldly promised. “So if some family members frantically report a missing relative after you instruct them about my guidelines, well, they’ll get no sympathy from me.”