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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “We’ll bring Hobin along,” Leo said, “and make it a reunion.”

  “In that case, you’ll have to make a trip to Harlow, too,” Eucádus said as he, Ranen and Ramsey joined in the goodbyes. “But first we have much work to do here.” Eucádus, Malek and the others would be staying in Del Norác for a few more weeks before returning to their homes, helping with the transition to a newly ordered society.

  King Justin, who had been talking with King Cedric, Tolapari and his son, overheard their conversation and offered a farewell before commenting on their desire to reunite. “You may be onto an idea that the realms of Laparia should adopt in the future,” he said. “It would be to our advantage if, from time to time, we leaders came together to keep a more vigilant eye on our corner of the world lest another Vellan sprout up. Though we send messages across the miles, we’ve been lax about cultivating stronger bonds.”

  “Then allow me to volunteer Grantwick as the location for our first get-together,” King Cedric offered. “Perhaps early autumn of next year or the following spring. I’ll dispatch messengers to hash out the particulars.”

  “Though Eucádus and Malek are not official representatives of their respective homelands,” King Justin said with a mischievous smile, “I suspect they may be so in one capacity or another by then.”

  “Your confidence in us is appreciated,” Eucádus said. “But first we must make sense of this mess in Del Norác.”

  “But if I had to guess,” Malek said, “I think that swift change will come to all the halls of power in the mountain nations. With word of Vellan’s defeat spreading far and wide, those who curried favor with him out of cowardice or for profit might soon find themselves out of a job. The people will clean house of such useless politicians.”

  King Justin chuckled. “Regardless of your future careers, you two and your associates shall be high on our list of invitees to any future gatherings. After all, we’ll need some curt words and blasts of commonsense to air out the puffery that usually billows to the rafters during these assemblies. Agreed?”

  “You have my word,” Eucádus said.

  “And mine,” Malek agreed as each shook hands with the two Kings as well as Prince Brendan, the future King of Montavia. “It will be our honor.”

  After everyone said goodbye, the lines of marchers, horses and wagons began their homeward trek. They halted for a few minutes in the vast field where the dead had been buried, offering heartfelt words and moments of silence for the sacrifices so many had made to keep Laparia free. They continued on in silence, drifting past the sacred site as everyone took a last look amid prayer and quiet contemplation. Prince Brendan took the reins of the wagon that carried his grandfather. The King’s prepared and wrapped corpse lay beneath a low, black canopy raised over the rear of the wagon. William sat next to his brother in a melancholy haze as four soldiers from Montavia rode along on horseback, two on either side of the wagon, carrying flags of the realm.

  Carmella followed in her wagon with Hobin at the reins. Close behind them on two horses were Nicholas, Ivy and Leo, all lost in thought about the war and the changes wrought because of it. Nicholas, wearing Frist’s amulet beneath his shirt and with Ivy sitting behind him, looked at the array of burial mounds, overwhelmed by how many men had been forever separated from their loved ones to safeguard the lives and liberty of those whom they had never met. He couldn’t fully comprehend the magnitude of such sacrifice yet thought of nothing else as he guided his steed past the field with Ivy, her arms wrapped around his waist. All absorbed the somber moment as the vast assemblage moved on in respectful silence.

  They journeyed over the next several days along the Drusala River under gray skies and light rain, crossing the eastern border out of Kargoth as the brilliant green of the Rhoon Forest slowly came into view. After skirting around its leafy eaves, the army turned northward through the gap between the Rhoon and the Braya Woods. In time they entered the southern reaches of Drumaya and eventually arrived on the western shore of Lake Mara as the skies cleared and the sun shone brilliantly upon its lapping waters. Though it seemed a lifetime ago, just over one month had passed since they first reached the lake and discovered with astonished joy that Prince Brendan had returned from the grave. As the sibling princes now rode past the water, the joy of that special time had evaporated as they transported the body of their beloved grandfather. Both sensed that fate had been determined to claim one life in their royal line before the war had drawn to a close.

  “If that is to be the way of things, I’m sure Grandfather was glad that he had departed this world so that you could breathe and walk again,” William told his brother as the wagon rolled on.

  “If that truly is the way of things, then I suppose he was,” he replied with a tired sigh. “Still, that brings little comfort to me or to those at home awaiting his return.”

  “I suppose it doesn’t.” William stared blankly across the lake, eager to reach the Swift River. “It shall be a tearful homecoming.”

  In time, the travelers reached the north tip of Lake Mara where the Swift River flowed into the water. Lines of men and wagons hugged the riverbank and extended into the adjacent field as they pressed northward and entered the heart of Drumaya. As they passed though small villages, locals lined the way to cheer on the returning troops and beg for information. King Cedric, with Captain Tiber by his side, expressed joy to be back home, yet was filled with melancholy when thinking about those who were left behind.

  “In time, after their grief has subsided somewhat and people return to a semblance of normalcy, the full stories of what our brave soldiers did in Kargoth will be told and celebrated,” King Cedric told him. “Much like after the battles in Rhiál. And perhaps families and friends will make the journey to Kargoth one day to view the final resting spot of their loved ones and reminisce about such glorious lives.”

  “It will be a bittersweet journey,” the captain replied, “though some may be hesitant to ever step foot in Kargoth even though Vellan is no more.”

  The King nodded as he wrestled with another thought. “I see your point, which is why we should construct a remembrance of some sort in Grantwick, a memorial citizens can visit to honor those who died in these two wars. I’ll put Minister Nuraboc in charge.”

  “If anyone will put her heart into such an honorable task, it is Judith Nuraboc.”

  “It is the least we can do for a debt that can never be fully repaid,” King Cedric replied as he guided his horse along the grassy banks while the vast army moved about him as a single mass. “And may such a debt never need repaying again,” he softly added as a sweet breeze whispered across the field from the west.

  As twilight neared on the tenth day of traveling, the coalition army reached the village of Wynhall. Captain Silas and his troops took their leave, crossing the stone bridge on the Swift River to camp below the Bressan Woods. There they would rest for a few days and resupply before the long trip back to Rhiál across the Kincarin Plains.

  “After New Maranac comes to be in five months, King Victor and Queen Melinda will send ambassadors to formalize treaties of friendship with our neighbors,” Captain Silas told King Justin and the others before he departed. “I guarantee that your next visit will be much more pleasant than the last one.”

  “If you see Aaron,” William said, “give him my best.”

  “I will,” he promised. “And though Aaron continues to work in the kitchens in Melinas, he has accepted an offer to serve on the King and Queen’s personal staff when they take up residence in Bellavon. A suitable reward for helping to capture a spy.”

  After Captain Silas and his men had left, the remainder of the army made camp in the fields outside of Wynhall. They departed early the next day for Grantwick, arriving late that afternoon. King Justin and Prince Brendan’s soldiers stayed for five days, pitching tents in the field overlooking the Ebrean Forest to the west. One evening while sitting by a fire, William and Brendan recalled their harrowing adventure in th
e cabin somewhere deep inside the woods, feeling as if it had been a bad dream long since past. They shared a meal with Nicholas, Ivy, Leo, Carmella and Hobin beside the crackling flames. The canopied wagon holding King Rowan’s body stood close by in the thickening shadows surrounded by an honor guard.

  “Shortly after I had first looked upon this forest, I lost my brother,” William remarked as the fire’s gentle glow brushed across his face. “And now that I gaze upon these woods for what may be the last time, my heart again is overwhelmed with sorrow.”

  “Whenever I look upon the mountains in the days ahead, I’ll always think of Liney with sadness for the life that she abandoned,” Carmella said, empathizing with the young prince’s grief. “We’ve all been touched cruelly by this war, with reminders all around us.”

  “But don’t get so lost in those dark moments that you abandon the joyful ones,” Ivy said, briefly glancing at Nicholas. “You have found your brother again, Prince William, and against the most impossible odds. Hold onto that.”

  “I’ll remind him often,” Brendan chimed in to lighten the mood, “though he’ll probably tire of me when I am king as I’ll no longer be able to attend to his every whim whenever he gets bored.”

  “You’ll be begging me to entertain you when affairs of state interfere with fishing or rambling about the foothills,” William shot back with a playful smirk. “Time will tell after we get back home.”

  “And what are your plans?” Leo asked Hobin who sat silently by, gazing into the flames as he drank from a steaming mug. “Taking any trips north of Woodwater by chance?”

  Hobin affected an annoyed scowl. “You mind your business with a certain young lady in the Blue Citadel and I’ll mind mine with another one living along the Crescent.” He sipped his drink, hiding a vague smile behind the cup. “Yes, I will be traveling north to see Emma, most likely by late spring–not that it’s any of your business. And Frank and Gus will come with me this time.”

  “They’ll be a handful on such a long trip,” Nicholas said as he leaned back next to Ivy and stretched his legs. “Constantly at your heels, begging for food and attention.”

  “A lot less trouble than you and Leo,” Hobin ribbed, eliciting laughter from the others. “And I won’t have to answer their endless questions either.”

  Nicholas smiled fondly, gazing at their valued guide across the snapping flames. “We’ll miss you too, Hobin.”

  “But don’t be surprised if Nicholas and I come knocking at your door one day and take you up on your offer to climb another mountain,” Leo added. “If you plan to do some mapmaking for King Justin, you’ll need qualified assistants on your long treks.”

  “I suppose I will,” he replied. “But if I’m out when you arrive, tap an ale cask, start a fire and tend to the place until I return–just not in that order.”

  “I look forward to it,” Leo said. “With Megan’s permission, of course.”

  Nicholas glanced at Ivy who stared back at him with feigned displeasure. “And with Ivy’s permission, too!” he quickly added, taking her hand as they both smiled. “Something I look forward to asking her for a very long time.”

  Five days later, with their men rested and resupplied, King Justin and Prince Brendan led the armies north, thanking King Cedric and bidding him goodbye. The ties between Arrondale, Drumaya and Montavia had been strengthened over the course of two long and weary wars. King Justin was confident that such powerful bonds would serve well in uniting the whole of Laparia in the long run.

  “When we meet in Grantwick for our initial gathering, we’ll see just how strong a connection we’ve woven,” King Cedric had earlier remarked as he and King Justin made their rounds upon horseback as the armies broke camp.

  “But don’t be surprised if you and your wife are invited to the Citadel long before that,” King Justin replied with a knowing smile. “I suspect there may be a wedding in the not-so-distant future, but the information is not yet for public consumption.”

  “Princess Megan and Leo?”

  The King raised a hand. “I am just speculating as nothing has yet been confirmed, Cedric. But let’s just say that I was privy to some reliable words during my illness that such is the plan. I believe my hunch is near the mark.”

  “Beatrice and I look forward to journeying to Morrenwood,” he replied. “But until I receive an invitation, no word on this matter shall pass my lips. Far be it from me to spoil the young couple’s day. Gregory, though, must be bursting to announce the news.”

  The King chuckled. “Even he doesn’t know yet, though I suspect he will shortly.”

  “Then I’ll double my discretion and treat this matter as a state secret, particularly since a woman’s input is involved.”

  “A wise policy,” he agreed as they continued meandering across the field. “A wise policy indeed.”

  The dwindling army pressed forward at midmorning, keeping west of the Swift River until the Red Mountains loomed into view. Soon they crossed the tributaries of the river’s upper region and passed eastward through the lush, green valley between the second and third peaks at the lower end of the chain. In time, the southern portion of Lake Lasko came into view which again stirred up vivid memories for William as he neared the village of Parma farther up the coast. Only this time the young prince didn’t fall into a fit of melancholy since his brother now sat at his side, alive and well. But other feelings of emptiness and sorrow blanketed the sibling princes to varying degrees for every mile of road they traversed in the company of their deceased grandfather.

  In the middle of a cool, gray morning on their eighth day since leaving Grantwick, King Justin brought his army to a halt. They had crossed into Arrondale a while ago and were assembled on the road and fields skirting the west bank of the Pine River in southern Bridgewater County. Here Prince Brendan separated his troops from King Justin’s army so they could continue northeast along River Road. They would ride and march through the heart of Arrondale before passing through the Black Hills and Keppel Mountains farther east, finally reaching the end of their journey in Montavia. King Justin and his men would continue north, leaving the main road to cut across country, making for Morrenwood on their final day’s march and planning to arrive at the capital before sundown.

  “It has been an honor riding with you,” Prince Brendan said to the King as he and his brother shook the monarch’s hand.

  “Thank you again for saving our kingdom,” William added as he said goodbye to Prince Gregory. “As we whiled away the hours to Kargoth, Grandfather told me many stories about how you and your troops liberated Triana.”

  “I had a little help,” he replied, referring to Nicholas and Leo who stood nearby. “Had they not eliminated the Enâri, the war in Montavia might have taken an ugly turn.”

  “As would have the war in Kargoth,” King Justin said, turning to Nicholas and Leo. “The fates of many were tied to your actions.”

  “Don’t give us all the credit,” Nicholas said. “Many played a part in that mission, including Carmella and Hobin.”

  “And others along the way,” Leo added. “Without the help of any single one of them, Nicholas and I might have failed.”

  “Thankfully you did not,” Brendan replied, glancing up at King Justin. “And now we must take our leave, sir, and embrace the bittersweet days ahead.”

  Soon the army of Montavia departed. Prince Brendan and Prince William solemnly led the way with an honor guard of horsed soldiers surrounding King Rowan’s wagon. As Nicholas and the others looked on, all wondered how the citizens of Montavia would react upon learning the news of the King’s death and of Prince Brendan’s miraculous return.

  They would learn weeks later how villagers throughout Montavia had greeted the arriving troops as they neared the capital, showering them with praise and hearty greetings along the way until informed that their beloved King Rowan had paid the ultimate price. But before the shock of his death registered among each group of people, they were then told the news that
Prince Brendan, still mourned throughout the kingdom, had astonishingly returned to the land of the living. Those who glimpsed him atop the wagon at the head of the line respectfully guiding his grandfather back home could not mistake his familiar blond hair and sea blue eyes. Word spread quickly far and wide, so that when the returning army had finally reached Triana and the main gates of Red Lodge itself, a crowd of tearful onlookers lined the way in respectful silence for their dead King. Yet whispers of amazement were tossed like flowers upon the path at Prince Brendan’s return.

  The most tears were shed by Lady Vilna when she stepped through the front doors of Red Lodge and hurried down the stairs as the canopied wagon pulled through the front gate. The clip clopping of horses echoed off the cobblestone courtyard. When she saw her two sons upon the wagon, her senses reeled and her heart beat wildly. Brendan and William climbed down and ran to their mother, both hugging her at the same time and not wanting to let go as tears freely flowed. Neither boy had seen her in over seven months since the night they escaped through the west gate to seek help. Neither then had imagined the journey they would take, and both now could hardly believe that they had made it back home as their mother’s loving arms and warm words tenderly embraced them.

  After Prince Brendan and his troops departed, King Justin ordered the army of Arrondale to make for the open fields to the north. He was eager to gaze upon the bluish-gray speckled stonework of the Citadel before sunset. The King rode at the head of the line with his son, both discussing events of the last few weeks. But foremost on their minds was getting back home to their loved ones. It had been sixty days since they passed through the gates of the Blue Citadel in the waning days of winter to commence their assault against Vellan, though it seemed like a year. Now that the last miles were before them, neither King Justin nor his son could fully fathom that the journey was nearly over.