“Nicholas!” Ivy screamed. But before she could reach him, a pair of arms grabbed her from behind, taking her breath away. A cold, calloused hand covered her mouth as she was pulled through the grass and darkness. Another pair of arms grabbed her by the legs. Ivy felt as if she were floating recklessly through the night as the tall grass fronds brushed against her face and shoulders.
Nicholas rolled over and attempted to jump to his feet upon hearing Ivy’s harrowing cry, but found himself gasping for breath after a hard kneecap landed squarely in his gut. He collapsed in the grass, unable to breathe for several moments as the frenzied shuffle of footsteps echoed in his ears. The soldiers were fleeing back to shore, back to the ship, and taking Ivy with them.
Nicholas flopped over on his side, feeling momentarily paralyzed as he tried to inhale a few agonizing lungfuls of air. Though he hadn’t been hit in the head, his skull felt on fire. He wondered if Leo was in any better shape. Slowly he was able to breathe again as the spicy bitter scent of the grass revived him. He struggled to his knees, straightened his back and deeply exhaled, certain that none of his ribs were broken. As he slowly stood, he again heard Ivy’s frantic cry pierce through the bitter breeze. It sent a chill up his spine and made him forget his injuries. He raced through the grass as fast as he could, swatting the stalks out of his way as he headed for the shoreline.
The bonfires blazed as Nicholas broke through the edge of the grass and raced to the water, the horror of the situation now starkly displayed before him. Two of the three rowboats were already out on the Trillium Sea, being swiftly paddled to the anchored ship. On the water’s edge, two burly soldiers sloshed through the gentle waves, pushing the third rowboat away from shore before climbing into the boat with the final group. In unison, a half dozen paddles, three on each side, were dipped into the water. The rowboat started to pull away.
Nicholas saw Ivy struggling in the back of that last boat, unable to free herself from the two men who held her down. “Nicholas!” she cried in a last desperate bid for help.
“I’m coming!” he shouted, unsheathing his dagger as he sprinted toward the boat still in the shallows.
As soon as his feet hit the water, Nicholas leapt into the air in an attempt to jump into the rowboat, not thinking how he would single-handedly fight off eight soldiers. But as his foot landed on the tip of the vessel, now slick with seawater, the man closest to him raised a wooden oar and rammed it squarely into his chest. Nicholas’ arms flailed upon impact and he slipped off the edge, crashing backward onto shore. His head pounded the hard ground as the dagger flew out of his fingers, landing with a dull clank against a stone embedded in the dirt.
He thought he heard Ivy’s cry drifting vaguely through the night as he stared up at the dizzying array of stars peering down through the tattered clouds. He thought he felt the push of water against the soles of his boots as a cool breeze swept across his face. The string of bonfires crackled in the distance and the smell of wood smoke drifted lazily across shore. Then Nicholas closed his eyes, his frantic thoughts and blurred vision finally succumbing to despair and utter darkness.
END OF PART TWO
PART THREE
MACHINATIONS
CHAPTER 21
The Umarikaya
Caldurian had marched northeast through dying fields and across bubbling streams since leaving Barringer’s Landing six evenings ago. Four hundred and ninety-nine Enâri creatures dutifully followed in his steps. What mischief the traitor Jagga was up to since he had fled and stolen the key, he couldn’t begin to guess. That hitch in the operation was now entirely out of his hands.
The wizard and his troops rested as necessary under crisp moonlit skies or beneath the eaves of sweet pine, steadily making their way to the shores of the Trillium Sea to a point directly north of the Black Hills. There, Caldurian expected to see a ship from the Northern Isles anchored offshore if Commander Jarrin kept to their schedule. Several other ships were to land farther eastward along shore above the nearby Keppel Mountains, preparing for the invasion of the kingdom of Montavia as Vellan had instructed. But first Caldurian had business of his own, anticipating a visit with someone onboard Jarrin’s ship. He tugged at the point of an iron gray beard as the folds of his black cloak swished through the brittle grass. The wizard smirked, hoping his special guest hadn’t intimidated the commander and his crew too much.
At sunset, he heard waves lapping against the pebbly beaches of the sea, the stretch of water appearing like an inky wasteland. He and his reawakened soldiers eagerly approached the shoreline where a ship from the Northern Isles stood silhouetted upon the water against the darkening horizon. Large bonfires crackled on shore and several men from the Isles milled about the flames to keep warm. The nearly full Fox Moon rose in the east while the crescent Bear Moon, two days from first quarter, lingered high in the western sky.
“Now we can rest awhile, Gwyn. Our ship is here.” Caldurian glanced down at the ranking Enâr who served as his aide, its firm jaw and dark eyes framed by a tangle of dirty hair that hung over its bulky, cloaked shoulders.
“We Enâri can do the work of ten shiploads of the Islanders,” Gwyn said in a gravelly voice. “But we will work with them if we must.”
“We’ll need every ally to enact Vellan’s wishes,” the wizard replied as they approached the fires. Several Island soldiers looked on with suspicion. “But rest assured, Gwyn, you and your kind are closest to Vellan’s heart. Your safety is all that matters to him. He will be delighted to welcome you back to Kargoth when our task here is over. It was a harrowing twenty year absence, but that will make your victory sweeter. Always keep that in mind.”
“I will,” he replied, trudging ahead as he knew Vellan would wish.
A moment later, a tall, unshaven man with a crew cut weaved through the soldiers and bonfires and approached Caldurian. He wore a long, weather-stained brown coat and black boots. Firelight reflected off the sword hanging from his side. He looked at the wizard and then glanced at Gwyn with curiosity in his dark, untrusting eyes, never having seen his kind before. The remaining Enâri soldiers stood silently behind their leader.
“Good to see you again, Caldurian, as well as your–friends.” Commander Jarrin nodded at the wizard. “This will be an interesting alliance.”
Caldurian smiled. “There’ll be interesting times ahead for everyone if we just keep our wits about us and our priorities straight. I trust your journey from the Islands proceeded smoothly?”
Jarrin nodded. “He is with us. He drank the potion you gave me, then kept to himself during the entire voyage.” With a tilt of his head, the commander indicated the bonfire farthest down the shore. “That most curious individual awaits your audience.” He leaned in and spoke softly to the wizard. “He gives me the shivers.”
Caldurian nodded in the chilly breeze, placing the hood of his cloak over his head. Twilight deepened as the sun disappeared in the west. “You are not used to his presence, Jarrin. He is a force to be reckoned with, a power unlike any other. Did it test your nerves when you retrieved him from his island prison?”
“He is here, isn’t he? I don’t wish to discuss the details of my voyage.”
“Noted. And I’m sorry to have separated you from the other ships, but you have been well compensated,” Caldurian replied. “Now excuse me, commander. I must speak with Arileez. Later we’ll discuss our plans for Montavia.” He turned to Gwyn. “You and the others rest now. It’s been a grueling trek. Show Commander Jarrin every courtesy.”
“As you wish,” Gwyn replied with a grunt, crinkling his face as he stared back at the towering shipman. Caldurian departed, walking swiftly down the stony shore to the last bonfire where Arileez waited.
The bonfire popped, spitting a shower of sparks high into the air as Caldurian approached. Arileez, the passenger from the Northern Isles, stood bathed in an erratic mix of light and shadow. He gazed upon the wizard with lifeless eyes beneath a hood partially concealing a skeletal countenance fra
med with straggling stands of white hair. His frayed cloak and coverings made of animal skins and woven fibers hung upon him like tattered sails wrapped about a ship’s mast after a bruising storm. A constant whoosh of waves battered the shoreline behind him.
“Thank you for joining us on the mainland,” Caldurian said, greeting Arileez with a slight nod. “I appreciate your assistance.”
“I appreciate that my curse has been lifted. Still, I will expect my due in time.” He spoke softly, his voice gruff yet laced with a delicate shrill as if a wolf and seagull were communicating with one voice. “Now, how am I to do your bidding? When last we spoke, you had not provided many details, only possibilities of a new life for me.”
“And you shall have it,” Caldurian said with conviction. “You could rule the kingdom of Montavia if you wish, or occupy any of a handful of other thrones in Laparia. Or perhaps you’d like to carve out a new place where you can call the air, land and water all your own? The possibilities are endless.”
Arileez appeared to laugh. “As a prisoner on my island for many years, I’ve become used to a life of solitude, so I’ll carefully choose my reward. But it can wait until after I earn the gratitude of you and Vellan.”
“You already have that, Arileez. Your assistance will go a long way toward helping us both achieve our goals.”
“So, wizard, what am I to do?”
Caldurian looked sideways, noting that the soldiers upon shore kept their distance out of fear and intimidation, yet still they couldn’t help but fix their gazes upon him and the strange passenger from the Isles. He knew no one could hear their conversation, but Caldurian didn’t like to take chances when revealing any plans.
“Let’s walk,” he said, motioning for Arileez to follow him down the shoreline. “I have two jobs for you to complete–one at my behest and one from Vellan. The first is not far from here. You will be meeting with a gentleman named Zachary Farnsworth in the village of Kanesbury.”
Arileez nodded as they walked away from the firelight. “And my second assignment?”
Caldurian grinned, contemplating the elaborate web of Vellan’s design. “That will be a feat unparalleled. In one bold stroke, we will achieve much, Arileez. So very much.”
“I will help as I can as a sign of my thanks. It was fortunate that you found me stranded on my island two years ago,” he said, his words sprinkled with indebtedness. “It will be good to put my powers to use other than for my own entertainment. That dreariness had dragged on for too long.”
“I can’t imagine how the years wore away at your spirit and sanity. The anger you harbor toward your captors must have multiplied over time. It is a cruel fate that I would wish on no one,” Caldurian said, staring at the stony ground.
“Well, I might wish it on some, though I can’t imagine that any of my tormentors still live,” Arileez replied distantly. “My fate was sealed many years ago.”
“As you had often told me.”
“Yet through our conversations, I can almost taste the feeling of liberation that revenge upon the descendants of my captors will bring to me. I will fight with Vellan,” he proudly said, “who, like me, was terribly aggrieved.”
“You speak the truth,” Caldurian replied, “and I’m pleased to play a part in correcting these injustices.”
“So I thank you again.” Arileez filled his lungs with fresh sea air as he imagined the possibilities that awaited. “It was chance that brought you to me, and I will take advantage of that fortunate circumstance.”
“Yes, happy chance. Where would we be without it?” he softly said, raising an eyebrow beneath his hood while recalling the moment when he had first heard about this mysterious sorcerer secluded on a deserted island off the eastern reaches of the Northern Isles.
Three years ago, Caldurian had journeyed to the Isles on one of his many missions for Vellan, carefully laying plans for the current conquest of Laparia. While meeting with Commander Uta on board a vessel to discuss future troop and supply shipments to Kargoth, the commander wondered if Vellan would ever again grace the Northern Isles with his presence like he had years ago.
“He’s become a recluse,” Uta said with a laugh. “He sends you to do his dirty work while he hides out in his mountain. Soon he’ll be a mere memory or a figment of people’s imaginations, just like the sorcerer of Torriga.”
“Who is that you speak of?” Caldurian asked, his curiosity piqued as he gazed over the ship’s side. “And where is Torriga?”
Commander Uta explained that Torriga was a tiny deserted island off the eastern shore of the largest island in the archipelago nation of the Northern Isles. Legend on the Isles told of a sorcerer who lived alone on Torriga, whose power was so great and deadly that only a few had ever mustered the courage to venture onto the island, yet never returned. Uta could offer Caldurian no information beyond the local legend, admitting that it was probably all untrue. When Caldurian returned to Kargoth two months later, he mentioned the conversation to Vellan in his mountain abode, wondering if the wizard had ever heard of such a sorcerer in his travels years ago.
Vellan spoke in the gloom while sitting on a cushioned wooden chair inside one of his upper chambers, the shadows cast from a small, round fire pit dancing upon the walls. His splintered wizard’s staff leaned against the side of the chair like a silent advisor.
“Sorcerer?” Vellan whispered. “That island sorcerer is descended from the Valley of the Wizards just like me, but is so much more powerful in certain ways. Oh, so much more.” He turned to his travel-weary apprentice, his dark eyes reflecting the red and yellow flames. “I believe he is the Umarikaya.”
Caldurian shrugged. “I don’t understand. What is that?”
“A tale from childhood. A fiction,” Vellan said, “to keep us children from misbehaving.”
“Please, tell me more,” he asked, clearly intrigued.
Vellan explained the tale of the Umarikaya that he and other children were told whenever they would get in trouble for being particularly mischievous or deceitful. The Umarikaya, a terribly wicked wizard, had been sent to a faraway island as a child to live out his life in seclusion as punishment for disobeying his parents, with a powerful spell cast upon the island so he could never escape.
“If any of us children ever acted too irresponsibly, we were told that we would be sent to live with the Umarikaya until we learned to behave,” he said with a grim smile. “And that threat would keep young impressionable boys and girls in line until they were old enough to know it was simply a myth passed down from generations that parents used in childrearing.” Vellan leaned back in his chair. “Or so I once thought.”
“What do you mean? You’re not saying that…”
“That the legend is true? Perhaps. Or maybe the legend of the Umarikaya grew out of real events.” Vellan told Caldurian about his first voyages to the Northern Isles when he was in his early twenties. “The Isles are a structured society, to put it kindly, which is part of the reason I admired that nation. It encouraged a discipline from its people which the Valley of the Wizards lacked. Years later while on another voyage around the Isles, my ship passed a nondescript island in the east far off the main island. I thought nothing of it at first and the ship never came close to approaching it, yet something propelled me to stare at that dot of a landmass as it drifted by in the distance. I thought that I sensed something, felt something, in the vicinity. Some magic perhaps?”
Caldurian leaned forward, entranced. “What did you find?”
“I asked the ship’s commander to tell me the name of the island and about its history. He was hesitant at first, waiting until the island had drifted out of sight before mentioning its name–Torriga. He had told me it brought ill fortune to sailors to speak of the island while it was in view. But later on shore, the commander explained the legend of an evil sorcerer who had been living on that island for countless years, and how any who had ever ventured there would never return. I thanked him for the information and asked how
I could arrange transport to the island as soon as possible.”
Ten days later, Vellan drifted toward the island, having paid a local sailor an exorbitant amount of silver to take him to Torriga. The ship was anchored well offshore and Vellan took a rowboat alone to the island as no one else had the nerve to accompany him. When he approached the rocky beach, waves of fear, anxiety and nausea overwhelmed him until he regained control of his emotions. But before he had even stepped foot on the island, he knew the place was overwhelmed with wizards’ magic. He sensed it in the air, land, water and vegetative growth, yet knew the magic wasn’t native to this location. A terrifying anxiety gnawed at Vellan and he would not stay long on shore. He quickly filled a small pouch with a handful of beach sand and a few stones and rowed back to the ship, seeing no living thing upon the island. As soon as he boarded the ship, he ordered the commander to set sail back to the main island at once.
“After I closely studied and tested the sand and stones, I knew that the legend of the Umarikaya was a reality,” Vellan said. “The magic present in the beach items was of a magnitude that even surprised me. The spells cast on that island must have been created by several wizards many years before I was born.”
“What kind of spell was it?” Caldurian asked.
“A confinement spell, but unlike any I had ever encountered in my training. Some powerful wizards had been at work on Torriga.”
Caldurian was still a bit confused, gazing at his teacher in the shadows for a fuller explanation. “Why is this sorcerer, this wizard, on the island at all? Surely the children’s story of the Umarikaya is not a true one. What parents would send a disobedient child away forever, imprisoning him by magic on a faraway island? It doesn’t make sense.”
“The story is merely a fable, but it was based on grains of truth from the past,” Vellan said. “When I returned to the Valley of the Wizards after my first travels abroad, I spoke extensively with many of the oldest wizards who had not yet departed on their final journeys, learning as much as I could about the origins of the Umarikaya. I also researched the most ancient texts in our libraries until I pieced together as best I could the truth behind the legend.” He rose and walked toward the fire pit, a circle of polished flat stones that reflected firelight like glass sheets. He stood with his back to Caldurian, a silhouette against the snapping flames. “There was an adolescent imprisoned on Torriga. And though I could not discover an exact date of his confinement, I suspect it happened well over a hundred years ago.”
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web - Volume 1 Page 32