Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web - Volume 1

by Prestopnik, Thomas J.

  They walked for a couple of miles, stopping once to drink from a cold spring flowing along a shady embankment. Though it was the first month of the autumn season, the afternoon felt unusually warm. Nicholas and Megan enjoyed their brief respite under the falling leaves of some sugar maples. Patches of cobalt blue sky winked through the upper branches.

  The road inclined steeply at one point and they paused to catch their breaths near the top. They were rewarded with a spectacular view of the changing foliage for miles ahead. Acres of maple, elm and birch trees covered the hilly area below near the village of Kast, bathing its nestled homes in shocking splashes of tangerine, crimson and gold. Tall pines scattered among the woods accentuated the bursting collage with somber stripes of dusky green.

  “Isn’t it beautiful, Nicholas?” Megan placed her hands to her face, absorbing the incredible sight.

  “I never tire of it,” he said.

  “I’ve never seen such a stunning display!” she added, wide-eyed and smiling like a child just given a new toy. “There are mostly pine trees around the mountains near Morrenwood–which are very nice, don’t get me wrong. But this view is amazing!” she burst out, not realizing the words she had just spoken.

  “You’re from Morrenwood?”

  “What?” She turned to Nicholas, half paying attention. “What’d you say?”

  “You’re from Morrenwood, Megan? From what you just said, I assume you must live in the capital city.”

  Her smile disappeared in a heartbeat. She lowered her hands, distractedly smoothing out the light brown peasant dress she wore. Her cloak lay draped over one arm. “Did I say Morrenwood?”

  “You did.”

  “Well, I... I’ve passed through that part of the kingdom once. That’s what I meant. It’s so different from this area,” she said rigidly.

  “If you are from Morrenwood, that’s okay,” he said kindly.

  “I may be or I may not,” she excitedly uttered. “It doesn’t matter to you, does it? Why even ask about something so trivial?” She flopped her heavy cloak onto her other arm and marched ahead without looking back. “Let’s get going. Can’t chatter away all afternoon. Only a few hours of daylight left.”

  Nicholas smirked as Megan marched down the dirt road, raising small puffs of dust with each foot stomp. “Right behind you,” he replied, studying his companion with deepening curiosity.

  They ate a brief lunch in the village of Kast which consisted of the remaining food items Megan carried with her–two red apples, a stale bread roll, a tiny wedge of goat cheese and one slice of dried salted beef. Each savored the remaining scraps, washing them down with water from a stream on the outskirts of the village. Megan refilled a water skin she carried with her and then each took a few moments to wash their hands and faces. They sat on the stream bank afterward and soaked their feet in the crisp water. Miles of road weariness flowed out of their tired limbs, and the gurgling water rushing over mossy stones nearly lulled them to sleep. But within the hour, they took to the road again, refreshed and eager to forge ahead a few more miles before twilight.

  Nicholas wrestled with a thought before speaking. “I’m curious about something.”

  “About what?”

  “If you had expected to travel all the way to Boros–from wherever you call home–well, you didn’t exactly calculate your supply of provisions properly, did you.”

  “I now have a second mouth to feed,” she retorted.

  “Good point,” he said. “But even taking that into consideration, you still didn’t plan very well. Unless you have money with you or decide to beg from the locals.”

  Megan shot a sarcastic glance his way. “I had planned to steal what I needed, if you must know.”

  “Don’t get upset. We’ll have plenty to eat until we get there. I’ve got some money. I was only curious.”

  “About what?” Megan stopped in her tracks and faced him, her arms akimbo. “What is your point, Nicholas? So I’m not an expert at arranging trips on the open road. Do you want to berate me for that?”

  “No.”

  “Though I noticed that your meager supplies ran out long before mine did.”

  “But my trip was spur-of-the-moment,” he said. “I was lucky to have what few provisions I did. But you had a destination in mind, so I was wondering why you didn’t fully prepare.”

  Megan sighed disgustedly. “Still waiting to hear your point.”

  “My point is... Well, I guess there really isn’t a point. I’m just worried for you, Megan. I keep thinking about that person you mentioned earlier–Samuel? Is he after you? Are you on the run from him and had to leave in a hurry?”

  “You don’t give up, do you, Nicholas. Didn’t we agree not to pry into each other’s personal business?”

  “Yes, but if you’re in trouble I’d like to help.”

  “You’re walking to Boros with me. Isn’t that enough?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Megan draped the cloak over her shoulders. The warm afternoon air had cooled slightly as the sun began its westward descent. “No, I don’t know what you mean. You may be in trouble, too, Nicholas, and I’m not allowed to know why. But just because you’re more than eager to assist, I’m supposed to break down like a helpless maiden and tell you my sob story? I’m not a little lost girl. I can take care of myself!”

  “Didn’t say you couldn’t.”

  Megan walked ahead and then quickly turned around, waving a finger at Nicholas. “You men in my life are all alike, thinking that I need to– I mean, thinking that we women need to be kept out of harm’s way whenever trouble comes bounding along. Well, I’m quite sick and tired of that type of thinking!” she snapped. “I don’t like to flee at the first whiff of adversity. I’m not a coward.”

  “Oh, and I suppose I am. Is that what you’re implying?”

  “I’m implying nothing, Nicholas.”

  “Admit it. You think I should have stayed home and faced my problems head on. Say what you really mean.”

  “I don’t want to say anything! Are you always this exasperating?” She whirled around and stormed up the road, wrapping the folds of her cloak tightly about her waist.

  Nicholas glared at the sky and gritted his teeth before going after her. “Slow down! This isn’t a race.”

  “Keep up! I want this trip over with as soon as possible.”

  “So do I!” he muttered, matching pace with her brisk steps.

  “Then go home. No one’s stopping you. I’ll find the way to Boros on my own.”

  “There, you said it again! Go home. So you do think I was wrong for running away from my problems.”

  Megan stopped and spun around, nearly colliding with Nicholas who steamed forward like a mad bull. He faced her fiery eyes and the tip of her index finger again pointed at him with a vengeance.

  “I’m not accusing you of anything, Nicholas. Do you understand? I can’t and won’t judge your decision because I know none of the facts.” She grabbed the edges of his unbuttoned jacket and held him tightly in place. “Maybe you’re babbling on about these feelings because you’re wondering if you did the right thing. Did you ever consider that? And you can struggle all you want with the guilt or regret. That’s okay. I suspect things look bleak for you,” she said, trying to be a bit gentler, but her frustrations were already close to boiling. “But just please don’t take your problems out on me!” She shook him while clutching the folds of his jacket. “I’ve got enough to endure in my own life!”

  She released Nicholas, straightening out his jacket and realizing she may have been a bit overly dramatic. Megan raised her eyes in a silent apology and then hurriedly continued up the road as Nicholas stared at her with a stunned and crooked smirk plastered across his face.

  “We’ll both get over our troubles one of these days, I promise you. It’s only a matter of time before–” Megan then realized that Nicholas hadn’t been following her. She turned around and saw him frozen in his stance, glassy-eyed and
mouth agape, and trudged back to him. “What’s the matter? Look, I’m sorry if I came across a bit too strong a moment ago. I can sometimes be–”

  Nicholas remained lost in thought, holding the folds of his jacket and slowly rubbing his thumb along the right side where the brown button was missing. He looked up at Megan as if aware of her presence for the first time.

  “Are you feeling all right?” she asked. “Are you ill?”

  Nicholas softly spoke two words. “Dooley Kramer.”

  Megan shook her head. “I don’t understand. Who is Dooley Kramer?”

  “An important piece of the puzzle.” Nicholas offered an encouraging smile, putting her at ease. “I worked with Dooley back in Kanesbury. We were both employed in Ned Adams’ gristmill. Dooley is one of the laborers. I do the bookkeeping for Ned.”

  “But why are you thinking about him now?”

  “Because I just now realized that he helped to turn my life upside down.” He smiled again. “Thank you, Megan.”

  “For what?”

  “For shaking some sense into me.”

  “You’re welcome, I think,” she said, still in the dark. “And though I’m not quite sure what you mean, I apologize if I was too loud about it.”

  “Perhaps just a little bit loud, ma’am,” another person said as he rattled up alongside them in an open wagon, gently pulling on the reins to halt his two horses. “I heard your voice way down the road near the last farmhouse I passed. Is there a problem here?” he asked with an air of suspicion, clutching a wooden cudgel that lay next to him on the seat that he carried on the road for protection.

  Nicholas and Megan hadn’t noticed the stranger approaching. He sat straight as a board, puffing a pipe and sporting a short, brown beard. Atop his head rested a sun-washed hat, whose floppy, tattered brim shaded a pair of chocolate colored eyes.

  “We’re just having a friendly argument, sir,” Nicholas assured him. “More or less.”

  Megan blushed. “I was voicing a minor difference of opinion with my friend. I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

  “Not likely,” he said, releasing his grip on the cudgel, momentarily convinced that the young lady was not in any danger. “I have two sons who play and argue from sunup to sunset. I’m used to it.” He exhaled a stream of pipe smoke which twisted in the air like rope. “Where’re you two headed, if I might ask?”

  “North,” Megan replied. “To Boros.”

  “That’s quite a hike on foot. Lose your horses?”

  “Never had any to start with,” Nicholas said with a sheepish grin. “This journey was a little spur-of-the-moment for both of us.”

  “I see,” the man said, eyeing them more closely. Though he suspected that the couple’s circumstances were a bit peculiar, they seemed kind and decent enough on the surface. And as he prided himself on being a good judge of character, he decided to follow his instincts. “Need a lift? I’m going as far as Minago which will cut a few miles off your journey.”

  “Much appreciated,” Nicholas replied, realizing that darkness was only hours away and their food supply was nonexistent. He eyed Megan to see if she was agreeable.

  “That’s a very kind offer and we accept,” she told him.

  “Then climb on board up front,” he told Megan with a pleasant smile before glancing at Nicholas. “You sit in back.”

  “Much obliged,” he softly said as he walked to the back and climbed on, sitting on the edge of the cart with his legs dangling over the side. Several empty wooden crates were piled behind him, and a few bruised apples rolled around as the cart rumbled steadily along.

  “My name’s Joe Marsh. And you?”

  They introduced themselves, happy to have new company on the road despite Mr. Marsh’s somewhat gruff exterior. But as the cart rattled on and they listened to his stories about running an apple orchard and selling his produce up and down Orchard Road, Nicholas and Megan were quickly enthralled by his stories and sense of humor, and for a time forgot about their own troubles as they peppered him with questions about his life and family in Minago.

  When Mr. Marsh asked Megan about her great aunt Castella and the reason for her trip to Boros, he received only a few perfunctory replies, sensing reluctance on her part to open up about the matter. He shot a brief glance at Nicholas in back who returned a bewildered shrug, guessing that Nicholas had had as much success as he in prying any information from her. But Megan’s evasiveness prompted a fatherly concern for the young woman in Mr. Marsh rather than suspicion, so he gradually changed the subject and talked about his own family again as the miles rolled away beneath them.

  “You two are in luck,” he later said as they drew closer to Minago and the daylight had began to wane. “My older son, Leo, is heading north up the line tomorrow to make more apple deliveries. Boros is his last stop. I’d bet he’d love some company.”

  Before Megan and Nicholas could even say they’d consider his kind proposal, Mr. Marsh had invited the two home for dinner, saying there was plenty of space for them to spend the night so that they could leave first thing in the morning with Leo. After he mentioned that his wife was preparing a turkey stew and baking fresh apple bread for the evening meal, Megan quickly accepted when seeing Nicholas eagerly nodding his approval. Mr. Marsh was delighted as his horses trotted home.

  Joe Marsh and his wife, Annabelle, lived outside the village of Minago on a small farm and apple orchard where they raised sweet yellow corn, a few milking cows, juicy red Corlian apples and two sons, Leo and Henry. They soon passed through the village ablaze in autumn colors as the setting sun washed over tree-lined streets. People hurried about on last minute errands before the shops closed. Joe turned onto a road heading east out of the village, passing over a covered bridge. The rhythmic clip clop of the horses’ hooves over wooden planks played in sync with the rush of icy stream waters below. He waved at a driver on a passing wagon loaded with sheaves of freshly cut hay for delivery in the village, then turned into a small farm another half mile up the road. Joe Marsh reined his horses to a stop under a weeping willow tree next to the main barn, glad to be home. He jumped off the cart and extended a hand to help Megan step down.

  “This is a lovely place,” she said, admiring the property.

  A house of chiseled stone blocks sat off to the left, with trails of gray smoke rising from its chimney. The main barn, painted apple red, rested on a foundation of the same stone. Behind the building was an apple orchard, its trees still bursting with fruit, and a corn field whose brown stalks had already been harvested yet still needed to be cut down and burned. An assortment of pine trees and sugar maples, together with the large weeping willow, guarded the place like unsleeping sentries.

  “Belle and I have lived here for over twenty years, and neither of us could imagine a better place,” Mr. Marsh said with pride. “I’ll take you inside to meet her first, and then you two can wash up if you’d like.”

  “Appreciate it,” Nicholas said, walking around from the back of the cart.

  At that instant, a pair of raucous voices bellowed in the near distance, growing louder and stronger every second, charging along the right side of the barn. Suddenly, two people tore around the corner as fast as rabbits and shot in front of the building, one chasing the other, arms flailing and boots pounding, howling like wounded animals, until the first one slipped and the second one tripped, and then both went sailing though a lake of a mud puddle left over from the rain a few days earlier.

  Megan turned her head to avoid the splash as Nicholas looked on in amusement. Mr. Marsh removed his hat and sighed, flicking a dab of mud off the brim and placing it back on his head. The two figures stood up, spitting and dripping mud from head to toe. Then the first one slapped his hand against the willow tree before both plodded over a patch of grass toward Mr. Marsh.

  “Megan and Nicholas,” he said dryly. “I’d like you to meet–my sons, Leo and Henry. Though at the moment I can’t tell which is which.”

  “Nice to meet you
,” Leo, the taller one, said. He scraped away globs of mud around his eyes, grinning awkwardly. “My kid brother said he could beat me in a race from the last fencepost on the orchard to this willow tree out front. I won.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Megan asked, trying not to laugh.

  “I’m not sure these two have half a brain between them,” their father muttered. “I’ll save the introductions for later after you two wash off in the stream,” he indicated to his sons. “Your mother will disown you if you step one foot in the house like that.”

  “Yes, father,” they said simultaneously before sheepishly shuffling off to the stream behind the barn. Leo glanced back while on his way, happily noting that Megan was watching him depart in spite of his muddy coating.

  Two hours later they were all seated around the kitchen table, thoroughly stuffed with turkey stew, roasted corn on the cob and hot apple bread with butter. Earlier, Mrs. Marsh insisted that Nicholas and Megan let her soak their travel-stained garments for a few hours while they washed up, supplying Nicholas with a spare set of clothes from Leo and providing Megan with some of her own.

  “I’ll hang everything next to the fire. They’ll be dry by morning,” she insisted.

  Megan had also talked about her journey to Boros to visit her great aunt, though offered no details about where she was traveling from. Nicholas said that he was from Kanesbury and provided only sparse details of his life. But neither Mr. Marsh nor his wife pressed either one for more specifics, believing they would open up to them more if they were not pushed. And when offered transportation again, Nicholas and Megan agreed to drive up north with Leo the next day as he made his deliveries.

  “My orchard is famous for its Corlian apples,” Mr. Marsh boasted. “You won’t find a sweeter or crisper variety in this region. You can take my word for it.”

  “And don’t dare challenge him on that point either,” Leo said with a wink, looking Megan’s way. “Father is the self-proclaimed apple king around here.”

  “That’s something you should be proud of,” she said. “Having a king for a relative is quite an honor.”