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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “That’s why Nicholas made me promise not to reveal this information to anyone, not even to Constable Brindle. It would simply have been my word against Dooley’s regarding Nicholas’ innocence,” she said. “Nicholas feared that I might get hurt, or worse, if I implicated Dooley. Since there was already one dead body, he didn’t want to chance a second one. I urged Nicholas to flee, hoping that Clay Brindle would uncover the truth on his own.”

  Ned placed an arm around her shoulder as if Katherine was his own daughter. “You did the right thing under the circumstances. But the question is–what do we do now?”

  “Perhaps it’s best if we say nothing for now and simply keep our guard up. Dooley is working at your side, so what better way to keep an eye on him if he is involved in the recent goings-on?”

  “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “If we accuse him now of lying or murder without proof, he’ll become cautious and possibly dangerous if he is up to something.”

  “Then we’ll go about our business as if nothing has changed, keeping a close watch all the while.”

  “Agreed, Katherine,” Ned replied. “And a very close watch at that. Who knows what trouble may yet be lurking in the shadows?”

  As the Bear Moon continued its steady ascent in the eastern sky, a sheet of high, gauzy clouds drifted in from the west, blanketing the village and scattering bluish moonlight through a fine veil of crystalline ice. The streets lay quiet as most people were sitting down to an evening meal. Shops had closed for business. Heads of cattle in pastures were being paraded into barns to pass the frosty night in straw beds. Elsewhere around the village, the first few patrols had been released into the streets by Constable Brindle to begin their watches, some on horseback and others on foot, and all with a seriousness of purpose and a renewed affection for Kanesbury.

  “We were lucky to draw the early shift,” said a man named Arnie. He and his patrol partner wandered south along the western edge of the park. The road was mostly lined with trees and shadows that quivered in the light of their fluttering torches. Only a few houses had been built at either end of the long lane. “This isn’t too bad of a job to handle, Lucas.”

  “Well don’t get too used to it,” he replied. “Constable Brindle said he’s going to rotate the patrols to be fair, so we’re going to get stuck with some rotten hours one of these days.” He spat on the side of the road. “Don’t know why I let him talk me into this.”

  “Because you know it’s the right thing to do,” Arnie said, a hood draped over his head and a pair of wool gloves warming his fingers. “We’re protecting our village, and after what happened to Ned’s gristmill and the Water Barrel Inn the other night, she needs all the protecting she can get.”

  Lucas grunted. “I don’t expect she needs much protecting during the dinner hour. I rushed through a bowl of potato soup to be here on time. My wife promised me a proper meal when I get back home. I should have brought some food along. I’ll be starving after walking for three hours!”

  “Oh, don’t be dim, Lucas. There’s nothing preventing us from stopping at the Water Barrel for a break now and then. It’s in our section of the village we’re supposed to patrol, after all.”

  “I suppose we could do that,” he replied, cheering up.

  “Of course we can! This isn’t our real job. We’re our own bosses now,” Arnie said, slapping Lucas on the back. “Think of it that way, my friend.”

  “I guess I will,” he said with a smile, his prospects suddenly looking up. Then a frown appeared on his face and his mood darkened. “Hey, where are we supposed to go for a bite or a quick pint when we’re stuck out here in the cold gloom a few hours before dawn? The Water Barrel won’t be open to us then.”

  “Why do you have to dampen every good thought like a passing rain cloud?” Arnie replied with amused disgust. “When we’re out here in the bleak hours, we’ll bring along a pot of stew, a loaf of bread and eat on the pavilion steps, okay?”

  “I was just wondering, is all. Don’t fault me for that.”

  Arnie burst out laughing. “You and your stomach. Maybe you should ask your wife to wake up in the middle of our late patrols and run down here with a picnic lunch!”

  “Oh, quit it, Arnie, will you? I can take it out here in the cold if you can. I was just–” Lucas stopped in mid sentence when he thought he detected the sound of grunting horses through a thicket of trees along Grangers Road nearby. The long country highway began at a point several yards ahead and to their right, continuing out of the village to the northwest for miles through Litchfield County. “I bet that’s the Bessel brothers. They’re supposed to be roaming about on this side of the village, too.” Lucas glanced at Arnie with a wicked grin. “Let’s give them a scare!”

  “All right,” he muttered, knowing he wouldn’t be able to talk Lucas out of it. “Just have at it and get it out of your system.”

  “Follow me,” Lucas whispered, lowering his torch and stepping off the road to his right. He led Arnie across a patch of dried weeds and freshly fallen leaves nestled beneath a scattering of trees. Grangers Road appeared just ahead of them and they could see the outline of several horses farther up the road to their right. “Get ready,” he softly said, glancing back at Arnie with a smirk. “I guarantee that one of them screams out loud.”

  Arnie nodded, urging him on. “Just do it already.”

  “Okay,” he replied, preparing to dash out of the trees. “Now!”

  At that instant, Lucas darted out of hiding and onto Grangers Road, heading straight toward the shadowy men on horses as he waved his torch like a madman. Arnie obediently followed, but with less enthusiasm. Though both expected a boisterous reaction from the Bessel brothers, neither were prepared for what awaited them–a dozen men on horseback sitting tall and stern, and the metallic swish of twelve drawn swords reflecting traces of moonlight and the flickering torches. Lucas and Arnie stopped dead in their tracks, shocked and confused.

  “You’re not the Bessel brothers,” Lucas muttered, his mouth agape when facing the sharp tip of a sword blade inches from his nose. He glanced at Arnie, his face clouded with dread, realizing their hours of patrolling had just come to an abrupt end.

  “No, we’re not,” the man closest to him gruffly replied.

  “Who are you?” Arnie asked defiantly, his heart racing.

  “Oh, you’ll find out soon,” one of the other men answered.

  “Quiet!” the first man scolded, apparently the leader of the group. He glared at Lucas and Arnie, demanding to know their names and why they were wandering in this section of the village. A moment of uneasy silence followed. “Answer me!”

  “We were just… Just out walking,” Lucas uttered, taking a half step backward from the gleaming sword.

  The man raised a doubtful eyebrow. “We expect a better answer than that.”

  “Oh?”

  “How about you?” the man said, addressing Arnie. “Why are you here? Why did you try to sneak up on us?”

  Arnie looked up, not having the slightest idea what to say, when he was suddenly inspired to act in a quite unusual manner. From the tips of the twelve swords to the strangers’ foreboding presence, Arnie knew that the full brunt of the trouble that Otto Nibbs had warned everyone about had finally arrived in Kanesbury. If he didn’t act immediately to sound a warning, he would never get a second chance. And if he didn’t utilize this brief spurt of courage surging through him now, it would surely go to waste. He breathed steadily as a peculiar sense of calm settled upon him.

  “I’ll tell you why we’re here,” Arnie said, lowering his torch as he fixed his gaze challengingly upon the man. “But on second thought…”

  Suddenly, he flung his torch somersaulting into the trees near the point where he and Lucas had exited. The men on horseback instinctively turned their heads to follow the path of the burning light. At the same instant, Arnie fled, sprinting down Grangers Road until he reached the lane that he and Lucas had been patrolling earlier. He dashed th
rough the adjacent park past the pavilion, his lungs burning as he sucked in the cold night air, determined to reach the village hall and sound the warning bell. He hoped Lucas would forgive him for running off, but he knew he had no other choice. Trouble had arrived and he wondered if Kanesbury would survive the night.

  “Shall I give chase?” one of the men on horseback asked, returning his sword to its sheath. He wore a long brown sea coat and black boots as did all the men who had accompanied him from the Northern Isles.

  “Not important,” his leader replied. “They’ll know of our arrival shortly, with or without his warning. And as the village is surrounded, where will anyone go?” The man glanced at Lucas who was still wide-eyed and petrified. “Lead us to the center of town. We’re anxious to see what kind of place Kanesbury is since we’ll be making this our home for a time.”

  They had nearly finished eating dinner when Amanda Stewart, in mid-sentence, silently indicated for Morris to prepare a kettle of tea to accompany the dessert cake. He politely nodded and exited the room as she concluded her point without missing a beat, eliciting laughter from her husband and her three invited dinner guests, Katherine Durant, her mother, Sophia, and Maynard Kurtz. Oscar refilled their glasses with plum wine as Maynard finished off the last morsel of roast pork on his plate, running it through a splash of bacon-mushroom gravy with his fork.

  “You’ve outdone yourself tonight, Amanda,” Maynard said, raising his drink in her honor. The flickering candles upon the harvest colored table linen reflected off his glass.

  “The cook has done an outstanding job,” she agreed. “Luckily Katherine dragged you and Oscar back here in time before all this food went to waste.”

  “They were hard at work,” Katherine admitted, “so I suppose we must forgive their tardiness.”

  “That depends if they accomplished anything at their meeting,” Sophia joked, taking a sip of wine. Her appearance, though similar to her daughter’s, had been delicately aged by time. Sophia’s long, brown hair was fastened in back with a set of elegantly painted hair sticks and her eyes were a shade lighter and less intense than Katherine’s.

  “Now that we’ve finished eating, we can change the subject to more robust matters, namely, the discussion at the village hall,” Amanda said, casting a curious gaze upon Maynard. “What plans have you and Constable Brindle concocted to protect our village? Poor Ned Adams. His entire livelihood disappeared in smoke overnight and is now nothing but a pile of gray ash.”

  “A great shame,” Maynard agreed. “But as Oscar can confirm, we’ve made substantial progress.”

  “He’s right, dear,” Oscar said, peering over his wine glass as he smiled at his wife, her silvery hair highlighted by the glow of the candles. “For one thing, we started the village patrols this evening. Clay Brindle has some of his men and plenty of volunteers out there right now keeping watch over our streets.”

  “A sensible first step,” she said as Morris returned and began clearing away the dishes. “I understand that five of my employees have signed up. Do keep them safe, Maynard.”

  “Amanda, they’re the ones keeping us safe,” Oscar said. “At the first sign of trouble, they’ll ring the bell in the village hall as a warning. Fear not, my dear.”

  “Some very fine men are watching out for all of us,” Katherine agreed, with thoughts of Lewis on her mind.

  “Pardon me for interrupting,” Morris said as he continued to gather the empty plates, “but when I was in the kitchen moments ago, I heard the bell ringing through one of the open windows. The staff and I were wondering what was going on.”

  “A practice run perhaps?” Sophia asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Maynard replied with a shrug.

  “Quiet for a moment,” Amanda requested with a raised hand, tilting her head slightly to better hear as the room succumbed to silence. “I do hear the bell pealing.”

  “Odd that it’s sounding now,” Oscar muttered. “What’s Brindle up to? Ringing lessons in the belfry?”

  “Perhaps somebody encountered a stray squirrel and got excited,” Maynard lightly added as he reached for his wine glass. Suddenly there was a piercing scream from a distant street that everybody heard through the closed windows and above the laughter.

  “What was that?” Katherine said, gripped with uneasiness as she sat arrow-straight in her chair, her heart aflutter. “That sounded awfully unpleasant.”

  “Let me investigate,” Morris said, hurrying out of the dining room with an armful of clattering dishes.

  “You don’t suppose there’s trouble already,” Sophia said, fearing that her brother Otto’s predictions had come true. Her face appeared strained, her complexion pale. “I had begged him to stay and help us prepare, but he simply refused. I can’t understand why.”

  Katherine gently placed a hand upon her mother’s arm. “Perhaps it’s nothing. Let’s wait to hear from Morris.”

  But it was not to be. As soon as those words had left Katherine’s lips, the sounds of shouting in the streets grew suddenly and ominously louder, punctuated by the thunder of horse hoofs and the banging of fists upon doors. She looked at the others, for a horrifying instant stunned by the chaotic sounds in their streets.

  “What’s going on in our village?” Oscar sputtered as he jumped up from his seat and headed out the room.

  “Let’s find out,” Maynard replied, following him.

  Amanda glanced at Katherine and Sophia who both appeared as distraught as she was, yet all were deeply intrigued by the mysterious goings-on. The trio of ladies hastened out of the room as the clamor outdoors continued to grow, yet no one expected or was prepared for what happened next.

  An instant later, the front door burst open. Six soldiers from the Northern Isles stormed inside, riding on the wave of cold air and autumn leaves that blasted through the hallway. The men rushed in with swords drawn and boots pounding upon the stone tiles, stopping in unison when one of the servants approached after having dashed out of the kitchen. The worker froze in mid-step, imagining the thrust of cold steel through her body. Oscar and Maynard were only a few paces behind, their faces painted with shock.

  “What’s going on?” Oscar hollered, dumbfounded at the sight. “Who are you? Why have you entered my home?”

  “We’re looking for a man named Oscar Stewart. He is supposed to be a member of the village council,” the soldier in front said, his face grim and unshaven. “Is that man you? Do you serve in that capacity?”

  “It is and I do,” Oscar said defiantly, gently taking his stunned servant by the arm and pulling her away from the soldier and sending her back to the kitchen.

  “But you haven’t answered his question!” Maynard jumped in with a show of equal disdain. “Why are you in this house? Under whose authority–”

  “Enough!” the man said, taking a step forward, his sword at the ready. “I ask the questions. And for starters, what is your name?”

  Maynard stood tall, equal in height to the man. “I’m Maynard Kurtz, the acting mayor of Kanesbury. Your invasion of this home is an invasion of my village.”

  The soldier smirked. “Well, acting mayor, a few things are going to change around your village starting now.” He glanced at his companions. “Apparently, men, we struck it rich here, finding Oscar Stewart and the mayor in one place. Now my team will get the credit for finding two of you when we take you in.”

  “Take them where?” an angry voice demanded from in back of the crowded hallway. Amanda weaved her way through several servants to stand by her husband’s side, locking her arm around his. “You aren’t taking my husband anywhere. Get out of my house!”

  The soldier in charge sighed, sheathing his sword. “I don’t wish for bloodshed, but at my direction, that unpleasant reality will be unleashed in this house if my orders are not followed. Your husband and the mayor will accompany us to the village hall immediately or suffer the consequences. I have other men surrounding this house and throughout the village, so there�
�s no hope of escape. Therefore, the question to your husband is this–will he follow us peacefully, or must we resort to other methods?” He noted the palpable fear in Amanda Stewart’s eyes. “His choice.”

  Before Amanda could say a word, she felt the warm hand of her husband upon her own and already knew his answer. She held him tightly, unable to accept his response but knowing there was no other way.

  “We’ll both go with you,” Oscar said, his words laced with defeat. He received a reassuring nod from Maynard. “But I want your word that no harm will come to my wife or anyone else in this house.”

  “We have no interest in hurting anyone,” the soldier replied. “They can go back to whatever matters they were engaged in. My soldiers will depart immediately.”

  Oscar accepted the man’s word and assured his wife that he and Maynard would be fine. “Perhaps I’ll be home for breakfast,” he gently told her before kissing her goodbye. She reluctantly released her hand from his.

  After being allowed to don their coats, Oscar and Maynard were silently led out of the house and into the black night, surrounded by the soldiers. Amanda Stewart watched in bewildered horror with Katherine and Sophia attentively at her side, all temporarily at a loss for words and wondering if they would ever see the two men again.

  CHAPTER 43

  Breakfast with the Enemy

  Oscar Stewart and Maynard Kurtz were led through the main doors of the village hall under the watchful eyes of their captors. Most of the streets had been deserted on their way over as soldiers from the Northern Isles had ordered everyone to remain inside their homes. Kanesbury was under siege and Oscar had never felt so helpless in his life. As a businessman and community leader, he was used to developing great plans and having his orders followed, but that way of life had been shattered in an instant. Though the shock of the situation nearly overwhelmed him, he kept telling himself not to panic and to observe the people and goings-on around him. That was of utmost importance if he were to survive this ordeal, yet a part of him wondered if he would even live through the night.