Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web - Volume 1

by Prestopnik, Thomas J.

  A rural landscape of farmhouses, apple orchards and pasture fences was transformed into a sprawling silhouette pasted against a ribbon of light along the southwest horizon. The crescent Fox Moon lounged lazily on high. The invigorating air of the open road mingled with the spicy scent of decaying grass and wildflowers upon acres of rich farm soil. He breathed it in to clear his head. When he finally reached River Road, he felt momentarily at peace.

  Nicholas hurried along west, now less than a mile from the village of Mitchell. Approaching its eastern border, he spotted an array of campfires scattered ahead in a field on the right side of the road. Moving closer, he saw a cluster of tents had been pitched in the grass. He heard voices and noted shadowy figures moving around the flames. Nicholas slowed as he neared the encampment when a dark figure suddenly jumped out of the shadows into the middle of the road, blocking his path.

  “Who dare passes by unannounced?”

  Nicholas froze. His heart pounded when he saw a glint of moonlight reflecting off a dagger pointed directly at him. “I’m Nicholas Raven from Kanesbury,” he said, eyeing the knife as if it were a snake ready to strike. “Who are you?”

  “I’ll tell you,” a second voice disgustedly said. A man rushed toward them from near the campfires. “He’s a fool of a soldier who’s going to be rationed to one meal a day if our captain catches him harassing the locals.” The second man pushed the other away from Nicholas. “Get back to you tent, Earl! Battle might find you soon enough.”

  “Oh, I was just having a little fun,” Earl muttered before shuffling off to the campsite. “You’re always so serious, Hal.”

  Hal shook his head apologetically. He was only a few years older than Nicholas though appeared much more mature for his age. “Sorry about Earl’s misplaced enthusiasm. He’s an antsy sort. Desires to be in the thick of danger even if he has to conjure it up himself.”

  Nicholas straightened his collar. “A long hike in the hills might calm him down.”

  “Good idea.”

  Nicholas shook Hal’s hand in thanks and then pointed to the tents. “Why are you people camped out here?”

  Hal led Nicholas to one of the fires and offered him some dried venison, biscuits and water. He made a few introductions to others nearby. “We’re soldiers from Montavia. Two hundred of us, all volunteers, passing through Arrondale with the permission of King Justin. Some of us are to train with his soldiers at Graystone Garrison less than twenty miles west of here. The rest will march to Morrenwood for instruction. But if need arises, we’ll ride into battle together should the war in the south take a turn for the worse.”

  “How long have you been on the march?” Nicholas asked with envy, wistfully recalling his desire to join the King’s Guard.

  “About seven days.”

  “Seven? I didn’t see you in Kanesbury. This road passes through my village.”

  “We didn’t use River Road until now,” Hal informed him. “Our captain led us from Montavia through jagged mountains, over windswept hills and across rivers and streams. All part of our training. Using roads would be, well, too easy.”

  “Right now a day’s march along a dirt road would suit me just fine,” one of the others joked. “I expected more adventure than sore muscles when I volunteered.” His companions laughed.

  “You’ll have your wish shortly,” Hal said. “There’s less than two day’s journey before the remainder of us reach King’s Road. The captain told me we’ll march directly to the capital from there. Soon we’ll unite with our fellow countrymen abroad in service to our great King Rowan.”

  Nicholas appeared surprised. “Others from Montavia are training in Morrenwood?”

  Hal nodded. “Ours is a small kingdom, tucked safely between the Keppel and Ridloe Mountains. But we’re not naïve. The stench of war in the air from the south is unlike any Laparia has known. Many hands are involved in it, some unseen. And should it spread this way... Well, Montavia must protect itself at any cost.”

  “Still, why train with Arrondale’s army?”

  “Though King Rowan keeps his own guard, Montavia has avoided war for most of its history,” he explained. “To better prepare ourselves, King Rowan requested of King Justin that our troops be allowed to train with his, to which your monarch readily agreed.”

  Nicholas warmed his hands over the crackling flames as a thin trail of smoke twisted up to the sky. The faces of the weary soldiers were dappled with flickering firelight. “A few men from my village volunteered to join the King’s Guard. I was considering it myself,” he said, staring into the blaze. “Who knows, we may still meet again in the capital.”

  “You’re on your way there now?” one of the men asked.

  “I’m traveling in that direction, but taking my time about it,” he said. “I have a few things to think over first. Personal matters.”

  Hal offered an encouraging smile. “I believe you’d make a worthy soldier.”

  Nicholas took a bite of food, tossing an awkward glance his way. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but my interest in joining wasn’t entirely patriotic. I was looking for a bit of adventure, too.”

  Hal shrugged. “Nothing new with young men your age.”

  “And other than a few generalities, I don’t know much about the war between Rhiál and Maranac,” he added. “I guess that doesn’t say much for one so eager to join the King’s Guard.”

  Hal understood his mixed feelings. “Many young men, when enlisting, see only a grand adventure instead of cold reality. That doesn’t mean their intentions aren’t true. I’d wager most men in this camp joined out of a desire to see other parts of Laparia, thinking they’d have a fine time. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He added a few sticks to the fire. “And some of them may yet see other lands before the end–only for what the world really is, and at its worst.”

  “But why all the fighting?” Nicholas asked. “Who started the war?” Others admitted that they were unclear on the particulars, too.

  “That part of the south has been a troubled region for years,” Hal said. “And though others are more educated on its history, I can fill you in on recent events.”

  “Please do,” Nicholas said, anticipating a rousing tale.

  “Rhiál and present day Maranac were each half of the once united kingdom of Maranac that split apart decades ago. I don’t know all the reasons why,” he said, “but the two kingdoms managed to live in peace. That is, until the events earlier this year.”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “King Hamil of Maranac was assassinated, and his only child, Melinda, disappeared at the same time. Many believe she is dead. Hamil’s older brother, Drogin, who had been passed over for the throne when his father died, is now king. He resented not ascending to the throne before his younger brother, so he waged war against Rhiál, determined to reunite the two realms by force.”

  “But why would Arrondale and Montavia get involved? How does that war affect our two kingdoms?”

  Hal stood, glancing at the stars now out in their full brilliance. “Rhiál has requested help in its fight, not being strong enough to withstand Maranac alone,” he explained. “More importantly, word is out that King Drogin blames agents from Rhiál, in league with Arrondale, for the assassination of his brother. He wants revenge.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Nicholas said. “King Justin is an honorable man. He would never condone such doings.”

  “Most would agree, but war has been waged. And should King Drogin succeed, who knows what misery and misfortune he might send our way. If he falsely blames Arrondale for the assassination of King Hamil, he may use that excuse to launch a war against your kingdom, and in time, perhaps Montavia. If diplomacy can’t prevent that, then we must be prepared to fight.”

  Nicholas shook his head, again feeling his imagined military adventure quickly losing its luster. A trip to Morrenwood held little appeal at the moment, but a return home offered even less. His mind wrestled with the dilemma as the campf
ire snapped and sputtered in the chilly night air.

  Nicholas was given some blankets and allowed to share one of the tents to spend the night. But before sleep found him, he remained around the fire past midnight with several of the soldiers, listening to stories of their journey and exploits. Yet despite an unadventurous start to their mission, most of the men envisioned a future filled with exciting and dangerous escapades. Most had never traveled far beyond their hometowns and boldly speculated about what Laparia had to offer. Nicholas again felt the romance of unexplored roads and wide open spaces tugging at his heart.

  But in the first glimmer of gray dawn, the lofty dreams of the previous night had been reduced to cold, vague memories as tents were rolled up and backpacks slung reluctantly over shoulders in the damp autumn air. Soon the two hundred weary soldiers from Montavia crossed River Road into another field and headed south toward the Pine River. They silently vanished into an eddying mist that cloaked the ground, leaving Nicholas alone again on the road with his thoughts and dreams in a tangle.

  CHAPTER 10

  On King’s Road

  Nicholas spent a few hours that morning rambling about the village of Mitchell. The residents there, as in Kanesbury, were enjoying the final day of their Harvest Festival. But the pleasant aromas of outdoor cooking and the cheerful din of the crowds did little to dispel his melancholy. What he wouldn’t give to be home enjoying the last night of the Festival instead of being branded an outcast. He left the village by noon, feeling as sad and alone as when he had departed Kanesbury.

  A short time later, he walked through the village of Foley about a mile to the west. He stopped for lunch in a tavern on the main road. The laughter and camaraderie of other patrons reminded him of the many good times he had enjoyed at the Water Barrel Inn. But instead of cheering him, the memories tormented him as he sat alone off to one side of the room. He ate his meal quickly, paid the bill and departed.

  He took shelter in some woods that night, building a small fire to keep warm and devouring the last scraps of food Katherine had supplied him. While eating, he contemplated the last few days of his life, staring moodily into the flames, not quite sure what to do or where to go. The next day found him back on the road, discouraged and wandering aimlessly through other tiny communities on his way to Morrenwood. He politely declined offers for a ride from anyone passing by on a horse and wagon, preferring the solitude of his walk.

  He spent the night in an abandoned barn as heavy rains fell, battering the roof relentlessly well past daybreak. He found little sleep during those hours, hounded by tiring and fitful dreams. He took to the road later the next morning, exhausted and miserable. The damp air smelled of rotting hay, and huge mud puddles challenged his every step. Low drifting clouds appeared as tattered sails on a ship, threatening more rain. The charm and adventure of the open road wore thin as each hour passed.

  River Road had begun curving southwest when he reached the intersection with King’s Road. He roughly estimated that it was forty miles to Morrenwood, recalling colorful maps he had studied as a boy in Maynard’s house. River Road, however, continued south for over a hundred miles to Arrondale’s border and beyond. Nicholas had never stepped foot outside the kingdom and considered traveling south to see what that part of the world had to offer. But he quickly dismissed the notion, knowing he couldn’t run away forever. Whether joining the King’s Guard or not, he wanted to finish his journey to the capital if only to clear his mind. Rambling about the countryside was not a long-term option. Standing at a fork in the road, he tucked his blanket roll under his arm and headed west.

  Stretches of pine woodland lay a stone’s throw away on either side of King’s Road during those first few miles, the Darden Wood towering to the north and the Pernum Wood to the south. Since it was nearing sunset, Nicholas decided to soon settle down for the night. He walked another half hour as fresh breezes swept along the road, breaking up clouds and clearing the sky. He watched the sun dip behind a string of rolling hills in the west, tinting the skyline strawberry-red. As twilight faded, a field of stars ignited like glowing embers. The Fox Moon, just past first quarter, loomed high in the east. Lingering just above the western horizon hung the larger Bear Moon, now only a sliver of a crescent.

  Nicholas yawned as he turned off the road to his right. He headed for the Darden Wood as the trees on that side appeared closer. He hoped to find a dry spot to build a fire, lie down and sleep for hours. He had fled Kanesbury four nights ago and every muscle in his body ached. He was sure he had lost a little weight since then and quite certain he could use a hot bath and a change of clothes.

  He approached the woods through a short expanse of dried grass and weeds. The towering pines reached for the crystalline stars above which he gazed at for several moments, comforted by their steadfast security. He strolled blithely toward the woods, still looking upward in amazement when he suddenly stumbled over a gopher hole. Nicholas fell, crashing his elbow hard into the ground. He flopped onto his back, muttering in pain as he massaged his injury. He chided himself for being so clumsy and then laughed as he imagined himself dancing with Katherine with the same poise and grace.

  He sat and rested for a moment, his ego bruised more than his elbow, when he noticed a flicker of light inside the woods. Nicholas strained his eyes for a better look, wondering if he was imagining things before slowly getting to his feet. But he had only taken a couple of steps when the world suddenly tipped sideways again. He felt his feet kicked out from underneath him and stumbled to the ground a second time, his elbow again slamming into the cold dirt. When he turned and looked up, a dark figure loomed over him with a large stone clutched in its fist poised precariously above his head.

  “If you’re planning to rob me, I have very little money,” Nicholas said, wincing. His elbow burned with pain.

  The hooded figure wavered slightly, still holding the stone above Nicholas. “I am not a thief!” The voice was that of a young woman. She removed her hood with one hand, revealing waves of hair that cascaded down her shoulders. The moonlight cast a soft glow upon her troubled eyes. “And I’m not here to hurt you, though I can’t assume the same about you, sir.”

  “Oh, so that kick to my legs from behind was just a friendly welcome?”

  “I needed to get the advantage before you attacked my camp,” she replied. “Tell me–do you work with Samuel? Did he send you to find me?”

  Nicholas sat up on his good elbow, causing the woman to raise the stone in her defense. “Look, I’m not here to rob you or to find you,” he said amiably. “Nobody sent me. And as for this Samuel fellow–never heard of him.” He raised an eyebrow. “That rock aimed at my head is really starting to annoy me. Could you lower it please?”

  “I could, but I won’t, at least not yet.” Her voice wavered. “First explain why you were heading toward my shelter.”

  “I didn’t know anyone was in these woods,” he said. “I’m just looking for a place to spend the night. I didn’t even see your campfire until after I, um...”

  “Inspected the ground for bugs?” she said lightly, cracking a thin smile. “Not the most sure-footed gentleman in the ballroom, are you.”

  “Hey, that was a big gopher hole. And that second trip from you was totally unnecessary,” he said. “Couldn’t you see I was already injured?”

  The woman looked at him askance, still uncertain of his intentions. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” She lowered the rock just a bit yet still kept a cautious eye upon him. “You seem a friendly enough sort, but there are plenty of trees on the opposite side of the road. Perhaps the Pernum Wood might be more to your liking.”

  “Are you serious?” Nicholas said, carefully standing up as the woman took a defensive step backward, the stone still raised in front of her. He rubbed his sore elbow and scowled. “You attacked me, remember? And you want me to leave?” He sighed, shaking his head with mild annoyance yet attuned to the distrust and fear still evident in the woman’s demeanor. “Look, miss, I’
m not going to cause you any trouble, but I’m certainly not going to trudge all the way back to those other woods because you say so.”

  “A gentleman would.”

  “Maybe a gentleman without an elbow burning with pain.” Nicholas shook his head, not wishing to sound combative or sarcastic. “Look, you stay by your fire and I’ll keep to the edge of the trees over there, well out of your way,” he said, pointing west. “I just want some sleep. Goodnight.” He leaned down and grabbed his blanket roll and shuffled off toward the distant trees as the young woman watched him depart with an icy stare, still clutching the stone.

  When Nicholas reached the woods at a spot he thought was an appropriate distance away, he gathered some twigs and dried weeds and tried to start a fire. With his sore elbow still bothering him, he had difficulty generating a flame, finally getting a small blaze going that sputtered and snapped as some of the kindling was still damp. But the fire didn’t last long, producing more smoke than heat, and he soon gave up trying to stoke the blaze. Being too tired to search for drier fuel, he finally lay down on the ground bundled in his hooded coat and blanket, hoping sleep would soon take him.

  Something moved in the shadows. When Nicholas opened his eyes, the beginnings of a dream scattered from his mind. A sound had awakened him–a snapping twig? The crunch of dried leaves? He was shivering in the night chill. Then he noticed her figure standing nearby among the trees, the smoke from his dead fire swirling in front of her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up, not sure how long he had been sleeping. He rubbed a hand through his hair, still a bit bleary-eyed.

  “If you’d like, you may sit by my fire and keep warm,” the young woman said.