The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology

by Thomas Lombard

  Corissa showed neither surprise nor pleasure at Lucan’s words of support. She waited to speak until she saw that her new companions would not contradict her King. “Your Highness, we should depart before dawn. I will discreetly make the arrangements for horses and provisions.” Turning to the others, she added, “The three of you must meet me at the front gate an hour before dawn. A storesman will supply us with ample clothing and food, and you need only bring any personal articles you will need. Keep your packs modest so we will not be weighted down.” She rose and faced the King. “Your Highness, you must return to your chambers before we are discovered. Orris can show them back to their rooms where they can prepare and get a short night’s sleep.”

  The King agreed and the meeting was over.

  * * *

  Who could hope to get much sleep after they returned to their rooms? Anson nervously prated about last minute details.

  “Anson, you need to relax a little. Corissa said she will take care of the provisions. You should try to get some sleep before we leave in a few hours.”

  “You are right, Sir Nevin. I must try to calm myself.” Anson went to the bedroom to lie down.

  Nevin tried to rest as well, but managed only a few short interludes of sleep amid his own excitement at their pending departure. Against high odds, they had won over the King. Now the adventure had taken a new turn—their alliance now numbered four.

  Orris quietly arrived at the appointed hour and had little trouble spurring Nevin and Anson to action. In a blur, they gathered their parcels and left to meet Corissa at the front gate. The only people they encountered were a few sleepy guards who recognized Orris, even though he was not dressed in uniform, and the three men were allowed to pass without further questions. When they reached the front gate, they found Corissa already there with the gate partially opened. She motioned for them to remain quiet as they slipped out.

  Corissa was the last through the gate because she would trust no one to make sure it was closed behind them. An open gate would raise suspicion and probably punishment for those on duty. She later told them she had offered the two gate guards a pleasant tasting tea made with vervain and blue pimpernel, which pleased Anson because he knew these sleep aids were non-lethal herbs. Anson appreciated that she chose to use a mild concoction, as he would have done. The guards would not suffer harm and assume they simply dozed off from the tedium of night duty.

  In the darkness of the last hour before dawn, the four walked silently to the arched bridge where Nevin first viewed Sartell. Four horses were tied and waiting, two of which had packs secured behind the saddles. One of the horses was larger than the others, obviously intended for Nevin.

  Orris was an experienced rider, as was Corissa, and they had no difficulty mounting their horses. Nevin had only ridden a few times before and had difficulty steadying his larger mount. Corissa exhorted Nevin to get aboard his the horse, but he could not manage his animal. Anson took the halter and tried to calm Nevin’s fractious horse, speaking softly to it while stroking its muzzle. Anson, who had no experience with horses, was a little surprised that the horse settled down immediately. Nevin mounted easily and Anson followed suit.

  Four shadows rode off to the west with the first rays of the sun.

  END OF BOOK 1

  Tickling

  the Dragon’s Tail

  The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner:

  Book 2

  By Thomas Lombard

  Copyright © 2014 by Thomas Lombard

  Ebook formatting by Jesse Gordon

  License Notes

  All rights reserved.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author.

  Cover Illustration by T. J. Lombard

  ISBN #978-0-9891663-2-4

  Submit inquiries and comments at TL1946@hotmail.com

  To Cathy

  For 24.4 years of everlasting support

  and patience to see this publication

  Tickling the Dragon’s Tail Index

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Failed Ruse

  Chapter 2: Dwarf

  Chapter 3: Clarion call

  Chapter 4: Trolls

  Chapter 5: Surprises

  Chapter 6: Anson’s decision

  Chapter 7: A bond grows

  Chapter 8: Battle

  Chapter 9: Prisoner

  Chapter 10: Plans to make

  Chapter 11: Rescue

  Chapter 12: Canby

  Chapter 13: Old Acquaintance

  Chapter 14: Swiggum

  Chapter 15: Glorhum

  Chapter 16: Water

  Chapter 17: The Device

  Chapter 18: Survivors

  Chapter 19: First Minister

  Chapter 20: Meire

  Chapter 21: Retribution

  Chapter 22: Academy

  Prologue

  Nevin’s memory was clear about the sequence of events that placed him in the kingdom of Antrim, but not about the so-called magic spell delivering him there. This was especially troubling, given his strong commitment to scientific inquiry. Until recently, he was a Lecturer at Hempstead College in Ohio but lost his job because he failed to complete a graduate degree. He was put off by the narrow, pedantic requirements of a single degree program, preferring instead to study freely in a variety of sciences that matched his curiosities. After an emotional final class tribute by current and former students, he trudged to his office to pack up his things where he met a peculiar small man recovering from a physical assault. Anson, dressed in an old-time tunic and breeches, claimed he was a “mage” from a place apparently without modern technology that Nevin could not find on any map.

  Nevin assumes that Anson suffers from an elaborate delusion and tries to help the poor fellow, but the police were skeptical about a four-and-a-half-foot tall possible mental patient used arcane means to escape enemy soldiers after suffering a spear wound. Anson tries to convince Nevin of his origin by demonstrating minor spells, but that pales before the little man’s amazement at Nevin’s personal library and the magic of television and other modern technology. Concluding that Nevin must be some kind of highly adept mage, or sage at least, Anson pleads for Nevin’s help to end the devastation, anarchy and persecution caused by war between the kingdoms of Antrim and Gilsum.

  While in the college library, Anson comes across pictures of the devastation of Hiroshima in WWII and decides to use these pictures to convince the warring kings to cease fighting. Anson and Nevin are unexpectedly confronted by Bartram, also a mage who escaped persecution in Antrim a few years earlier and recognizes Anson. Now faced with two undersized men claiming to be spellcasters, Nevin refuses to believe that magery exists beyond sleight-of-hand, superstition, or some rational explanation—until he is shamed for his scientific chauvinism. Bartram proves himself with a more convincing demonstration of spellcasting, plus he offers a plausible theory why there are deliverance sites between Antrim and Hempstead. He also reveals that he assisted another man, a Hempstead chemistry professor named John Stryker, a man of dubious character, to make the deliverance to Antrim. This revelation explains Anson’s recent experience with mustard gas, a fouling of the air he previously thought was due to high magery. Bartram declines to return to Antrim and face life-threatening persecution again, but he helps the pair conduct their deliverance to a small hut locally called the “library” outside the village of Huxley in Antrim.

  Nevin tries to sort out a scientific explanation for the spellwork he witnesses and even helps conduct while in Antrim. He sees nothing absurd like talking animals or shape-shifting, and no items are created out of nothing, so science must offer explanations if he can only figure it out. The mage and
the “sage” eventually team up with Orris, an Antrim soldier, to seek an audience with the Antrim king. They resort to magery and scientific acumen to supplement their courage as they set out to pacify the warring kingdoms. Along the way, Nevin finds himself in uncomfortable situations because of his relative large size compared with indigenous folks, sometimes calling for unaccustomed physical altercations.

  After arriving in the King’s city of Sartell in Antrim, the troupe’s efforts to petition King Lucan are rebuffed. The King’s Chancellor is suspicious of their motives and in full view of the Court orders them confined. King Lucan secretly observed the action and interrupts, allowing the three men to state their case. The King seems moved by their appeal, but denies his support and grants them a night’s stay in the castle. Nevin is visited later by a high-born woman, Corissa, a Captain’s widow, who takes him on a tour of the castle and grounds. Icy in demeanor but willing to answer his deluge of questions, Corissa misunderstands Nevin’s intentions and leaves him abruptly.

  On the day they were told to depart, the three men are asked to meet with the King’s physician ostensibly to treat Nevin’s minor injuries from a bar fight. It turns out to be a secret meeting with King Lucan and Corissa, where the King agrees with their assessment of the dire circumstances facing both warring kingdoms. For political reasons he cannot publicly affirm his own wish for peace, but he wants to secretly support their plan to meet with King Meire of Gilsum. He shocks the men by requiring that Corissa join them. Since she was Gilsum-born and is Lucan’s confidante, she has knowledge they will need for their mission to succeed. He also secretly entrusts Corissa with an heirloom token that may help them prevail.

  The alliance of four secretly leaves on horseback at sunrise. Each has conflicting emotions over their prospects for success, but Nevin is particularly disconcerted over his pleasure at Corrisa’s company and belief that she is the King’s consort.

  Chapter 1

  Failed Ruse

  The four riders took the Public Road to the west toward Gilsum and rode until noon. There was no conversation among them, as each but Nevin wore a serious face over the uncertainty ahead of them. Nevin was perplexed, rather than somber like the others. He was peeved over his inability to explain some of the magic-like experiences he had observed since arriving in this land, especially their so-called spell of deliverance from the basement of the Hempstead College library to a small hut outside the village of Huxley in Antrim. He gave up the idea that he was in some kind of dream-like state or psychotic delusion. There was too much perceptual awareness with incontrovertible details to deny his place-to-place deliverance with his new friend, a self-described mage named Anson. He tried to convince himself that he should ease up and enjoy this experience more. Science may be indomitable, but it does not have to be a forbidding master. What comes next could help explain things. He vowed to be patient.

  The makeshift tunic and breeches provided to Nevin were comfortable, but his undersized saddle was far from it. Unaccustomed to horseback riding as he was, Nevin’s cumulative soreness was so distracting he had to force his attention on observing the countryside. Outside of the surroundings of a few small hamlets, all oriented to farming, the landscape evolved into uninhabited prairie with endless fields of grasses, much of it already waist high—at least for the locals who tended toward smaller stature than Nevin. The trees in this region were mostly limited to the banks of streams, and they were the typical riparian varieties like willows, alders and birch. He saw nothing odd about the biomes he observed.

  For their first rest, the troupe chose a site next to a slow-moving brook, a site evidently used by many travelers over the years. Some benches had been fashioned out of tree trunks and conveniently set around a fire ring of blackened stones. There appeared to be fresh ashes but no signs of any people.

  Orris tethered the horses then took one at a time to drink from the stream. Anson assumed responsibility to prepare a light but cold meal from their supply of smoked meat, cheese and an herbal drink. Corissa and Nevin sat down to ease their stiffness from the long ride. There was little conversation until all four had all gathered around the fire ring, absent a fire as Orris insisted. Corissa brought up their need to appear as common travelers, expressing some concern that it might be difficult because of Nevin’s size. Nevin was a little offended by the remark, but a pursed look from Corissa indicated she meant advisement, not insult.

  “I’ve thought of a ruse which should work,” she said. “We can present ourselves as a delegation from the Farmers’ Grange in Sartell to collect information on the lack of progress of the year’s first planting. Nevin should be treated simply as an overlarge, dull-witted drudge. We should keep him in clothes befitting that character.”

  “Well, how about that. I’m a drudge now. Is that an improvement upon being related to trolls?” Nevin’s chagrin was obvious to all, but only Corissa frowned over his being overly sensitive.

  After appeasing Nevin’s feelings, all thought this was a good plan and discussed details to make their story believable. Orris was particularly adept at fabricating the story, a skill that Anson claimed he had developed from years of exaggerating his own exploits. It was agreed that Orris would speak for the group should they need to propagate this ruse, but Nevin thought he saw some unspoken hesitation from Corissa. From her take-charge attitude and relationship with the King, she probably thought she should be their spokesperson. After a short time, they were on their way again with Corissa in the lead.

  Corissa had recommended the Public Road as the safest route, plus it offered the best prospects for comfort since most villages and towns would probably have at least one inn or some kind of roadhouse. Comfort would be their reward for this logic, as it soon rained a light drizzle.

  After the first sign of rain, the riders stopped at a hamlet named Warren where they called at a modest sized dwelling marked by a dilapidated sign that it boarded travelers. Two sleeping rooms and dinner were available, but the proprietress eyed Corissa with curiosity. Apparently, the proprietress was unused to women travelers wearing fine leather and woolen riding gear, particularly pants, but she was even more leery of Nevin. Corissa assured her that “the tall lout” was harmless, saying that he had some troll blood in his lineage that accounted for his size and dim wit. As Corissa paid ahead for the food and lodging with silver coin, Orris pulled her aside to caution her.

  “It is not prudent to convey a purse full of coin, My Lady,” he whispered. “It would be better to appear we have very little among us and are hard-pressed to pay for a night’s lodging.”

  “I don’t think there is anything to fear, Orris. We are four in good health and you are visibly armed. It is unlikely that anyone would be serious about challenging us.”

  “I am leery, My Lady. But, you are the King’s…uh…agent. I mean, we will do as you say.” Orris briefly looked to the others to press his advice, but he thought better of challenging Corissa.

  The proprietress served supper consisting of thin soup, bland tubers and seared gammon, a bacon-like cut of meat from a pig’s hindquarters. It was not inspiring fare, but it gave them a chance to go over their plans. They agreed that Corissa would take one room, Nevin and Anson would share the other. Orris thought it best if he slept in the stable where he could keep an eye on their horses. Before leaving, Nevin changed the bandage on the soldier’s arm and pronounced his recent wound to be much improved after the treatments of penicillin-laden mold.

  Nevin retired to the welcome sight of a straw-filled mattress. Even though his bed was much too short, he slept soundly until Anson gently shook him awake the next morning.

  Anson and Corissa had not been as fortunate as Nevin in getting to their rooms. As representatives from the Farmers’ Grange, they had to suffer a lengthy conversation with some locals, which involved mostly listening to the proprietress’s sister and brother-in-law. This couple farmed an area adjacent to the roadhouse and had an endless list of complaints for Anson and Corissa to take
back the Farmers’ Grange. Corissa deftly perpetuated their ruse, but Anson had chosen to say nothing rather than lie. After Corissa finally succeeded in excusing themselves to retire for the night, she exchanged a smile with Anson for their mutual tolerance of the boorish couple and success in preserving their secret.

  * * *

  After a breakfast made light because only half the food was palatable, they mounted their horses and made for the road now pocked with puddles. With Warren behind them, now heading due west, the topography of the land started to change. It became hillier with patches of trees and small woods dotting the landscape to the southwest. A dark line took shape on the horizon to the north.

  Despite the sloppiness of the road, by mid-afternoon Orris claimed they had covered at least four leagues. (Nevin mused over the origin of the league as a unit of distance, supposedly how far a person could walk on foot in an hour.) They stopped for a rest and a meal at another wayfarer’s site, this one with a large fire ring and several half-rotted tree trunks for seating. Each tended to duties on his or her own without the need for orders. Nevin gathered firewood, Orris and Anson took care of the horses, and Corissa walked toward the surrounding grove. In the miserable dampness, Orris was willing to risk a fire for a hot herbal drink.

  After several minutes, the men gathered around the fire ring in joint effort to get damp wood to burn. Nevin was first to express concern that Corissa had not returned. “Do you think Corissa is all right? She’s been gone a bit.”

  “Aye, I don’t like her being gone from our sight,” said Orris. “But she is not a woman who needs a man nearby to feel protected.”

  Anson was suddenly distracted by the nervous snorting among the tethered horses. “Let’s wait a bit longer; perhaps she just seeks privacy. I will tend to the horses. They may sense a wolf or bear about.”