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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “Since you put it that way, maybe I can embellish the details a bit for their enjoyment. But just a bit.”

  He indicated for William to lead on. They continued along the roadside as Prince Gregory made his way to the campfire on the edge of Lake Mara and soon disappeared from view.

  Minutes later, William and Leo waded into another company of soldiers. Many in this unit were also on horseback. Soon they found Eucádus engaged in lively conversation with Captain Silas and Ranen. Also riding with them were Captains Tiber and Grayling as well as Ramsey and a few other soldiers. All were in high spirits.

  “Ah, just the man we’re looking for!” Eucádus said when he saw Leo approach, greeting him with a sense of familiarity as if he had known him for years. Leo was put immediately at ease. “Thank you for stopping by on such short notice.”

  “And for elevating the quality of our conversation!” Ramsey quipped.

  Eucádus turned more serious as he beckoned Leo to his side. “If it’s not too much to ask, you must recount the adventures of you, Nicholas Raven and your guide to reforge the key to the Spirit Box. Since you rid our homelands of the Enâri pestilence, it is a story I must tell my wife and children.” He offered a heartfelt smile. “We are in your debt, Leo Marsh.”

  “You are overly kind.” Leo noted the glances tossed his way by the others. Even William’s interest seemed piqued though the young prince already knew much of the story. “Now where should I begin? When I first met Nicholas and Princess Megan who involved me in all this intrigue?” He smiled, recalling his introduction to Megan moments after he had landed headfirst in a large mud puddle. “Or should I start when Nicholas, Megan and I met Carmella on the road with her Enâri companion, Jagga, the one who had given her the magic medallion?”

  Eucádus leaned back in his saddle, relaxed and enjoying the outdoors. “It’s a long journey to the southern border of Kargoth, Leo, and then a substantial trek from there to Del Norác. You might as well give us the extended version.”

  “Very well,” he replied. “Just don’t complain if you start to get bored. You had your chance for a more concise account.”

  Leo began his tale when Nicholas and Megan arrived on his father’s apple wagon one glorious autumn evening. Fifteen minutes later, with all ears and eyes of his audience still attentive, his narrative had reached the seaside village of Boros. But just as Leo had his listeners on the edges of their saddles awaiting more details, a frantic call sliced through the air from outside the line.

  “Prince William! Leo!”

  Leo stopped speaking as he and the others glanced left. All were surprised to see Prince Gregory guiding his horse to the center of their gathering with a look of stunned disbelief. Leo and William eyed one another, fearing that Maximilian had revealed some terrible news to the prince.

  “Trouble, Prince Gregory?” Eucádus inquired, his senses on alert. “The enemy?”

  “No, not the enemy.”

  “Did Maximilian bring ill tidings?” William asked. “By your startled expression, I’m guessing your meeting didn’t go as planned.”

  “It did not. And about Max, well he…” Prince Gregory was momentarily distracted, observing the boy’s face as the sun reflected off the youngster’s blond hair and light brown eyes. “No, it didn’t go as planned, Will.” He then addressed Captains Silas, Tiber and Grayling. “I need you three to halt this line at once. We must make an unscheduled stop. Fan out with those you need and spread the word.”

  “At once,” Silas replied, nodding to his fellow captains. Soon the three departed with several aides, riding up and down the lines to bring the army to a standstill.

  “Ranen and Ramsey, can you find our trio of Kings and send them this way at once?” he continued. “My father was near the head of the line with Tolapari and Hobin the last I heard. Kings Cedric and Rowan were making their rounds along the western flank.”

  “They’re as good as here,” Ranen assured him as he and Ramsey hurried off.

  “What is going on?” asked Eucádus.

  “I’ll tell you shortly,” Prince Gregory replied. “But follow me first. William and Leo as well.”

  Moments later, Prince Gregory waited on the grassy strip of land with his three companions as word spread through the army about the unscheduled stop. In time, the marching troops, trotting horses and rumbling wagons grinded to a long and slow halt as a gentle spring breeze swept across the lake. Minutes later, Kings Cedric and Rowan rode up on the grass and greeted the others with bewildered expressions. But before Prince Gregory could explain anything, King Justin approached from the distance and joined the gathering, a stern, questioning eye aimed squarely at his son.

  “You will appreciate my reason, Father, if you and the others follow me to the lakeside.” The prince indicated the spiraling trail of wood smoke drifting into the air near the camp now a short distance to the north. The army had since passed by that spot when Gregory first approached Eucádus and the others.

  “Lead on,” King Justin calmly replied, though with a gruff edge to his voice. “Ranen told me that Maximilian had arrived. He had better have some especially compelling news to justify bringing this army to a standstill.”

  “Rumors of Maximilian’s appearance are just that–rumors,” the prince said. “But follow me and all will be explained.”

  King Justin threw skeptical glances at the other two Kings, wondering if they shared his nagging doubts. Prince Gregory guided his horse north along the grass for a short distance before veering right toward the lone campsite on Lake Mara. The soldiers on the roadside watched in respectful silence. A few whispered among themselves about why the army would suddenly stop near a single campfire and a thicket of pines trees overhanging the water and the grassy shoreline.

  As the seven riders neared the site, the aroma of cooking fish filled the air. A gutted trout fixed to a wooden spit was roasting over a low fire. Through a haze of bluish smoke and a shimmering veil of heat rising above the circular fire pit, the seven men observed another man standing by the water’s edge with his back to them, unmoving while gazing contemplatively across the lake. The stranger wore a long brown coat, weather stained and frayed along the bottom hem, with the hood thrown over his head and his arms hanging at his side. At first glance, Leo thought there was something oddly familiar about the person. Suddenly it struck him just as it did the others as they all dismounted. Leo and the man by the lake were wearing the exact same coats, only Leo’s garment was much cleaner and in better condition. He immediately thought of Nicholas, knowing that the seamstresses in the Blue Citadel had sewn identical coats for their journey to the Dunn Hills. Leo was about to call out his name when Prince Gregory stepped forward and spoke to the man by the water.

  “I’ve returned with my friends,” he said in a calm voice, causing the stranger to slightly flinch as if he had been lost in a daydream. “We’d like to talk with you.”

  Slowly the man turned around, his face partially obscured by his hood and the wavering shadows created as the sun flickered through the branches of sweet pine. He stood there for a moment and faced the new arrivals before raising his hands and gently pulling back the hood of his coat. A wave of stunned silence swept across the seven men as they gazed upon the face of a young man only a couple of years older than William. His sea blue eyes framed by locks of blond hair looked back with calm curiosity.

  William’s heart leaped in his chest. He took a deep breath, unable to believe what he saw. He tried to speak for several flustered moments, only able to move his lips at first, until he finally found the wits and ability to whisper one word.

  “Brendan?”

  King Rowan’s hands shook when he saw his oldest grandson standing only a few feet away from him, the grandson whom he thought had been killed in the woods of the Ebrean Forest miles to the west. He couldn’t find any words to say and simply walked toward the young man as did William, both with tears in their eyes, until they stood face to face with their long lost lov
ed one.

  “I can’t believe my eyes,” King Rowan said as a smile slowly replaced his mystified expression. He gently laid a hand upon Brendan’s shoulder to make sure he was a living being and not an apparition or a figment of his imagination. “But here you are.”

  “How is this possible?” William asked, looking up at his brother, his eyes wide with wonder and delight. He was about to speak further, but nearly bursting with joy he instead lunged forward to Brendan’s surprise and hugged his brother with all his might as more tears welled up in his eyes. He still couldn’t fully believe that his brother was here even though his arms were tightly wrapped around his shoulders.

  “Will, let Brendan catch his breath,” King Rowan said with gentle laughter after a moment had passed.

  William finally stepped back, smiling as he repeatedly wiped the tears from his cheeks. He gazed at Brendan until he trusted his instincts that it really was his brother standing there. Through his dizzying shock, he at last managed to ask the question on his lips.

  “Brendan, how did you get here?” he said breathlessly. “How are you–alive?”

  Brendan stared at William and his grandfather as a warm wind blew. A kind yet bemused look was upon his face as he tried to guess their thoughts. “William?” he finally replied, his eyebrows rising as his brother nodded, eagerly awaiting Brendan’s next words. “Do we know each other?”

  END OF PART NINE

  PART TEN

  IN ENEMY TERRITORY

  CHAPTER 95

  Numerous Narratives

  Nicholas and Max sauntered along the southwestern edge of the Ebrean Forest on horseback, each with coats buttoned high and hoods draped over their heads. It was a gray and misty morning three days before the new year. The sweet scent of pine lingered in the air with the aroma of rich soil lying beneath the grassy expanse to their right. The recently melted snow had renewed the landscape, giving promise of an early spring that would also arrive in three days. They had left the encampment in the northern reaches of the Champeko Forest four days ago on their journey to Lake Mara.

  Earlier in Mid Winter, Malek had led Nicholas and the other rebels to their temporary camp near Petaras Peak. Ten days later, they continued south through the mountains over several wintry weeks until reaching the northern border of the Champeko Forest. There the resistance fighters from dozens of camps had gathered, finalizing plans beneath snow-laden trees for their springtime raid on Deshla prison. As winter released her grip, Max and Nicholas bid their friends goodbye. They set out eastward to meet with Prince Gregory and coordinate the coalition army’s attack against Vellan with their own raid on Deshla.

  For two days, Max had guided Nicholas east through a stretch of smaller mountains beyond Mount Lundy and Mount Minakaris until they reached the Bellunboro River on Linden’s western border. They spent the night along the water miles from the nearest village or farm. With the Enâri threat eliminated and no sign of Vellan’s collaborators from the Northern Isles, both enjoyed a restful night’s sleep.

  “I’m guessing that whatever presence the Islanders had here in Linden or in the other mountain nations has been greatly reduced after the Enâri met their demise,” Max had told Nicholas as they ate a brief meal that night. “Most, if not all of the Islanders were probably ordered back to Del Norác to bolster Vellan’s depleted army.”

  “Those who haven’t already deserted,” Nicholas replied with a chuckle. “The Islanders have to suspect that King Justin will be coming for them after the victories in Rhiál and Montavia. I’ll bet many of them wish they had never crossed the Trillium Sea.”

  “Maybe so,” Max said as he stoked the campfire. “But they’re here regardless–and soon war will be here, too. And such is the state of affairs,” he said with a sigh. “Now we just have to weather it.”

  Nicholas nodded, having acknowledged such obvious wisdom many times since leaving Kanesbury. He wistfully wondered when, or if, he’d ever return.

  They followed the Ebrean Forest on Linden’s eastern border for two full days and part of a third, reaching the southernmost point of the trees at midday and entering the realm of Drumaya. From there they veered slightly southeast away from the woods and into the gently rolling hills and farmland of the kingdom’s southern region, making for the south shores of Lake Mara. They spent that night, the last day of winter, among a thicket of budding maple trees along a rushing stream. Nicholas was happy to be out and about the open countryside again, having felt confined living among the mountains during winter, all the while tormented by thoughts of Ivy’s plight. But now that spring had arrived and the raid on Deshla was in the offing, he hoped to get his life moving again, and that meant resuming his search for Ivy. Deshla would be the first placed he looked.

  “How horrible a place is that prison?” he asked Max early the following morning. They guided their horses through a small valley thick with new foliage amid cool breezes and abundant sunshine, an idyllic first day of spring.

  Max guessed that Nicholas had imagined Ivy languishing in that dreadful spot. “I’ve heard awful stories about what the prisoners of Deshla endure–lack of food, brutality, isolation.” He noted Nicholas looking askance at him, his complexion pale, his features hardened. “Yet I’ve never spoken to anyone who escaped or was released from the place. And nobody I know has talked to a former prisoner either, so I can’t say anything based on fact, only rumor.”

  Nicholas sighed, steeped in misery. “That’s not a good sign, Max. If nobody has spoken to a former prisoner, maybe nobody ever gets out of Deshla alive.”

  “No, I’d guess not.” He glanced at Nicholas who now looked straight ahead, his hood draped over his shoulders as a thin breeze tousled his hair. “Still, we can’t know for sure if Ivy is there or with Vellan or–”

  “–or lost altogether?” Nicholas eyed Max, his expression indecipherable.

  Max offered a reassuring smile. “Let’s meet with Prince Gregory first. We’ll sort out the rest later.”

  Nicholas nodded and turned his melancholy gaze back upon the green vista ahead, yearning to see the welcoming blue waters of Lake Mara looming upon the horizon.

  Later that morning as the sun climbed higher in the east, the weary travelers arrived at the lake’s stony shore. Gentle waves lapped upon a blanket of colorful, smooth stones littering the water’s edge that was partially shaded by several large pines and other deciduous trees still in their budding stages. Seeing no signs of a recently passing army over this open, roadless region, Max suggested that they set up camp near a clump of trees for the remainder of the day and enjoy some well deserved rest.

  “Tomorrow we’ll head north along the lake.” Max removed his gear and supplies from Graylocks. “We’re sure to encounter King Justin’s troops one of these days. I don’t want to waste my valuable time waiting here until they show up.”

  “I won’t mind sitting by a fire and doing nothing for a while,” Nicholas replied as he similarly unburdened his horse, a light brown steed with a narrow white stripe running down its nose. He led the animal to the water where it joined its companion for a drink.

  “Then find some dry wood and start one while I check our provisions,” Max said. “We should have enough food left until the army arrives, though a bit of roasted fish will be a nice change. I’ll toss a line in the lake and see how the new year rewards us.”

  “Kindly, I hope.” Nicholas set out to scour the area for firewood. “I’m tired of dry venison and even drier biscuits.”

  He fondly recalled all the delicious foods he and Ivy had enjoyed at the party in Illingboc. One full season ago life had been good, offering music, dancing and precious time with the woman he loved. Now, three months later, with the sun shining down from cobalt blue skies and the air warm and light, Nicholas’ heart felt empty and cold. He wondered if his journey had been in vain. But less than an hour later as he sat against a tree near a crackling fire and stared across the lake, he silently vowed to trudge on and continue searching for I
vy, whatever her fate. With a heavy exhalation, his eyes closed as soothing sleep gently took hold of him.

  They slept under a cold, starry sky that night. Nicholas and Max took turns tending to the campfire as they lay bundled up in their coats and blankets. They rose early the next morning as the sun peeked over the misty lake like a curious eye, scattering its golden light through gauzy vapors floating upon the tranquil waters. After breakfast, they ambled north along the lake for a couple of hours as the day slowly warmed. The sharp cries of distant blue jays competed with chattering clouds of blackbirds perched in nearby trees.

  The terrain slowly rose by midmorning. Nicholas and Max now traveled upon a tree-lined ridge overlooking the lake as gentle waves lapped against the shoreline below. Both men savored the stunning view over the next couple of miles, but it was short-lived. In time the elevation gradually descended until they were again at water level. Billowy clouds passed overhead from the west, shielding the sun from time to time. But the sky remained blue and crisp as far as the eye could see.

  “It’s time we ate lunch,” Max suggested a few hours later. They stopped along a narrow, stony stretch of shoreline bordered by wild grass and weeds to the west, dotted here and there with clumps of trees. “Build a fire while I hook a few more lake trout. The ones I prepared yesterday were particularly delicious, if I do say so myself.”

  “They were.” Nicholas stretched when his feet hit the ground. He felt in a fairer mood today, having enjoyed the leisurely ride north. The open solitude served as a balm for his weary limbs and bruised spirits. He began to appreciate Max’s desire to take on missions by himself, learning to value time alone and clearing one’s head of distractions.