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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “Do you need to see Oscar?”

  “No. I just saw him a while ago when–” Lewis suddenly caught himself, not wanting to reveal that he had returned from another meeting of the resistance. “No, I don’t need to see him. I stopped by to see if I could get a bite to eat–and to see you.”

  Katherine blushed. “I think both can be arranged. And you shall have a place of honor right here in the kitchen, Lewis,” she said, leading him to a table in one corner and insisting that he sit down and rest. Moments later, she served him a plate of steaming food and a mug of hot cider before joining him with a cup of tea and a biscuit. “I’m long past due for a break myself. It’s been a hectic evening.”

  “I hope you’re not overworking, Katherine. And your mother shouldn’t be either,” he said with concern.

  “You’re the one to talk, Lewis. When was the last time you had a proper day off?” She patted him on the arm. “Even before the village was overrun, you and the others had been working nonstop on the winter’s wood supply.”

  “Oscar pays us well,” he said, stabbing a cube of roasted potato with his fork. “And he has given us some days off before the wizard arrived, though I admit that this week has been a busy one. When I go home, I’ll be asleep before my boots are off.”

  Katherine sipped her tea, silently fuming. “I’d like to give that Caldurian a piece of my mind. Oh, what a troublemaker that man is!”

  “He’ll get what’s coming to him,” Lewis softly said. “We must be patient.”

  Katherine looked around to make sure no one was in earshot as Lewis ate his meal with gusto. She drew her chair closer to his and leaned in. “I hear there are plans in the works to fight back.” Lewis looked up, the weariness driven from his eyes, his face awash with surprise. “Is this true?”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked with a shrug, taking a sip of cider. He uncomfortably stared at his plate while he ate. “I haven’t heard anything.”

  Katherine smiled. “You’re not a very good liar, Lewis. But don’t worry. I won’t say anything.”

  He shrugged again. “I still don’t know what you mean, Katherine. Would you like another biscuit?”

  “Thank you, but no.” Katherine wrapped her hands around the tea cup for warmth. “Let’s just say that I accidentally overheard a few words between Oscar and Amanda when I stepped into the pantry the other day to get something from the ice boxes.”

  “Accidentally?”

  “Yes, Lewis. It was perfectly innocent. Anyway, from the few words I gathered and by the looks on their faces when they saw me, I concluded that something was being planned to challenge Caldurian’s authority.” She glanced around the room again before continuing. “You needn’t give me details, Lewis, but merely a nod to verify.”

  Lewis sat hunched over his plate, avoiding eye contact. “I really can’t comment,” he whispered, pushing the food around with his fork. “Perhaps you misinterpreted what you overheard.”

  “I don’t think so,” she assured him. She sipped her tea and sighed. “But what bothers me most,” she continued, “is not that you won’t tell me what’s going on, but that Amanda was included and I wasn’t.”

  Lewis looked at her, slowing shaking his head. “Amanda’s not involved, so you needn’t be–” He quickly caught himself, though it was too late as he blushed with embarrassment.

  “Thanks for the confirmation, Lewis,” she lightly replied. “But as I said, don’t worry. Your secret is safe.”

  “But apparently not safe with Oscar.”

  Katherine giggled. “Though I love the Stewarts dearly, I don’t think Oscar would be able to keep a secret from Amanda no matter how hard he tried. But you needn’t worry about her telling anyone either.”

  Lewis nodded while finishing his meal. “I suppose. And it’s not that I don’t trust you, Katherine. It’s just that…”

  “I understand.” She stood up, telling him that she had to get back to work. “You finish and I’ll bring you a slice of pumpkin bread and tea to top off that meal,” she kindly said, affectionately running a hand across his shoulders as she stepped away. Lewis turned his head to watch her leave, a tired yet contented smile upon his face.

  Fifteen minutes later, Lewis finished his pumpkin bread and left the table, searching for Katherine to say goodnight. He made a quick check of the dining areas, nearly empty of soldiers, but found no sign of her. None of the other workers had seen her in the last few minutes either.

  “Perhaps she went down to the ice cellar or stepped outside for more firewood,” one of the girls suggested.

  “Thanks. I’ll check,” Lewis said, returning to the kitchen and exiting the back door into the inky night.

  A gentle glow from the nearly risen Bear Moon radiated along the eastern horizon. The voices of several soldiers smoking beneath the trees on the border of the property resonated sharply in the cold night. Lewis walked about the back of the house looking for Katherine, but found no sign of her. He figured she must be hard at work again inside and decided to go home. He peeked around the southeast corner of the house for a last check and suddenly stopped, his heart beating rapidly.

  There, standing several yards ahead with their backs to him were Katherine Durant and one of the soldiers from the Northern Isles, deeply engaged in quiet conversation. A moment later the soldier departed to the west, opposite of Lewis’ position in an apparent hurry. Katherine watched the man disappear into the shadows before turning around to walk back to the kitchen. As she neared the corner of the house, she noticed Lewis in the darkness, the glow of the horizon behind him.

  “Lewis?” The tone of her voice indicated that she was both surprised to see him and uncomfortable that he had seen her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to thank you for dinner,” he stated flatly, his mind reeling with speculation about what she and the solider had been talking about. Had it been merely a chance, innocent meeting, or something else entirely? Lewis thought the familiarity the two had seemed to share while speaking might indicate the latter.

  “You’re welcome for dinner,” Katherine replied with equal unease, wrapping the folds of her cloak about her. “Stop by anytime.”

  “Yes, well…” He fidgeted uncomfortably. “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye either.” He attempted a casual smile. “So, um–goodbye, I guess.” He dug the toe of his boot into the grass, searching for a coherent thought. “Better get going,” he clumsily added, beginning to walk away with a wave of his hand. But Lewis had only taken a few steps when he summoned up his nerve and spun around, facing Katherine who hadn’t yet moved. “Katherine, was that soldier bothering you? Because if he was…”

  “No. Nothing like that, Lewis. He was a perfect gentleman.”

  “Oh?” He slumped his shoulders, almost wishing that she had answered otherwise. “Because when I saw the two of you together–you and an enemy solider–I just thought that…” He swallowed, feeling as if their recent time together had been an illusion and that he was once again washing dishes and filling the ice boxes in Amanda Stewart’s kitchen while admiring Katherine Durant from a distance.

  “We were just talking, Lewis. He wanted to update me about–” She caught herself, not prepared to tell him about the information that Paraquin had provided her. Tonight, the soldier informed her that Zachary Farnsworth and Dooley Kramer made no additional excursions outside the village since their last one two nights ago. He promised Katherine that he’d keep a vigilant watch.

  “Update you about what?”

  Katherine stared at the ground. “I’d rather not say right now, Lewis. I need to find out more information first.” She looked up. “But as soon as I do…”

  “I see.” Lewis stuck his hands in his coat pockets. “And not that you have to tell me, since it’s none of my business, but can I ask why you were talking to that soldier at all? Why would the enemy even have information for you? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It would if I told you everythin
g, but right now I cannot. I’d rather not,” she replied. “It’s safer for everyone this way.”

  “Okay,” he said with a defeated sigh, his white breath dissipating in the night air. “I wouldn’t speak of our resistance plans earlier, so I guess I shouldn’t expect you to tell me about whatever it is that you’re doing.”

  “Thank you,” she kindly said, though Katherine could still see that he was riddled with doubt and unease.

  Lewis, slightly agitated and unable to contain the words boiling inside him, looked into her eyes which reflected the slowly rising moon to ask the one question that was really on his mind. “Are you seeing him, Katherine? That soldier, I mean. Do you–”

  “Of course not, Lewis! Is that what you’re thinking?”

  He tried to smile. “It had crossed my mind.”

  “Well rid yourself of that thought this instant! I have no feelings for that man, other than being grateful for some chance information he provided a couple nights ago.” Katherine grimaced. “Besides, I would never associate with the enemy in that way. What would people think?”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he replied, rocking back and forth on the soles of his boots. “And you’re right, of course. People might think all sorts of things if they ever saw you with one of the Islanders.”

  “Just like you did?” She smiled, more flattered than angered by his reaction. “But I forgive you, Lewis, not that it’s necessary. I know you have nothing but the best intentions for me.”

  “Exactly, so…” He stopped rocking, at a loss for words as he stared at the ground for a moment before gazing at Katherine. “What do you think people might say in passing if they saw you in the company of someone like me from time to time?”

  Katherine smiled again. “I’m not sure that I would care what others thought,” she said playfully. “Though I suspect that some folks might think I was quite lucky to be with you.”

  “They would?”

  “I certainly would.”

  “Hmmm, interesting to know,” he said, concealing a grin as he nodded thoughtfully, feeling so close to Katherine at this moment and sensing that she felt the same way about him. “Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m supposing that you might not care either if I did–this?” Lewis leaned forward and kissed her in the moonlit shadows, their arms tenderly wrapping around one another as both momentarily forgot the troubles in the uneasy streets of Kanesbury.

  “You supposed correctly,” Katherine whispered, her face flushed and beaming in the moonlight. She and Lewis held hands as they looked at one another in the cold night that suddenly felt as warm and inviting as a summer afternoon. “And I’m so glad you stopped to say goodbye, Lewis.”

  “Me too. But now I don’t want to leave,” he replied, touching his lips to the back of her hand. “Maybe we can…”

  “Most definitely,” she replied, confirming their unspoken plans. “I know it’ll be another busy day tomorrow, but stop by for dinner again. We can sit and talk and…”

  “I can’t wait,” he said, unable to contain a string of smiles as he stood there helplessly lost in the intoxicating moment.

  Several minutes later, both reluctantly departed. Katherine returned to the kitchen to help clean up and prepare for another grueling day tomorrow. Yet all the while, she felt as if she hadn’t a care in the world, thinking only of Lewis and their time together as she cleared the last dinner table and wiped down the counters. Lewis, meanwhile, walked home through the shadowy streets, equally elated and eager for dawn’s arrival. He couldn’t wait to see Katherine again, to talk to her and hold her hand. All thoughts of the resistance movement and its impending plans had been temporarily driven from his mind like a whirling leaf carried away upon a capricious breeze.

  “Gentlemen, any final questions?” Oscar Stewart spoke in a low voice while cloaked in the suffocating blackness inside Freddy Dobbin’s root cellar the following night. He had just reviewed their plans for the escape from Kanesbury in excruciating detail one last time, double checking to make sure that each person knew his part. “This is our last meeting, so there won’t be time to make changes if we overlooked something.”

  “Don’t worry. We haven’t overlooked anything,” Ned Adams insisted. “They all know what to do, Oscar.”

  “I just want to be sure.”

  “And you’ve done a fine job, deserving of a round of applause,” Maynard interjected. “But that honor might reveal us to the enemy, so our quiet thanks is all you’ll get tonight,” he added with a touch of humor. “But Ned is right–don’t worry. This caper will go swimmingly. I’m sure of it. Now I suggest we depart one by one as usual and go home. I’m getting hungry.”

  “Me too,” Ned replied. “So if nobody minds, I’ll leave first.” He found his way to the door and felt for the handle. “Best of luck to you all. We’ll listen for the village bell tomorrow night at the changing of the guard,” he whispered before cautiously opening the door. After assuring himself that it was safe to leave, he stepped outside and closed the door. He hurried up a few stone stairs before dashing across Freddy’s yard into the safety of some nearby trees before heading home.

  “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Len Harold whispered to his son in one corner of the room. Though he was proud that Owen had volunteered to ride one of the horses during the escape and send word to Morrenwood, his father was having second thoughts. What if he was captured–or worse?

  “I’ll be fine, Father. I’m a good rider, just like the others,” he replied. “I’ll lie low and it’ll be dark. But how about you? Having doubts?”

  Len chuckled. “I have the easy part,” he said. “Pour some oil, wait for the bell to toll, start a fire and then run away. What’s difficult about that?”

  “It may not be difficult, but everything depends on you and the other two fire starters,” Lewis commented, unable to help overhearing their conversation. “We don’t make a move with the horses until we see the distant glow of flames and hear the commotion. So make sure you keep out of the Water Barrel Inn tomorrow night so you’re not late for your appointment,” he joked.

  Oscar grunted. “The Water Barrel is not worth going to now that Caldurian has turned it into another place to feed his troops. A fine establishment gone to waste!”

  “Just one more reason we must succeed tomorrow,” Maynard said. “Let’s put that wizard and those Islanders in their place once and for all. Now whose turn is it to leave?”

  The eighth day of Old Autumn was greeted by a fine flurry of snow that dusted the pine trees and rooftops of Kanesbury during the still hours before sunrise. Somersaulting trails of blue and gray chimney smoke reached for a fleet of clouds passing overhead. The awakening village lay peaceful and picturesque, nestled up against the Cumberland Forest like a napping dog upon a warm hearth. Yet the apparent serenity belied another day of captivity. By midmorning, the pristine ground had been riddled with the muddy footprints from the Island soldiers on patrol. Grim-faced villagers trudged about to complete their assignments, wondering if the last five and a half days had been but a strange dream from which they would soon awake, or at least hoping so.

  Oscar returned home early that evening to enjoy a meal with his wife in the pantry. The couple hadn’t seen much of each other lately since his duties coordinating firewood shipments had kept him away from home most of the day. But tonight, a short while before the bell was to toll for the changing of the guard, Oscar managed to finish up work early to spend time with Amanda. Though he hadn’t revealed the plans to his wife, she could sense by his anxious behavior that something was afoot, perhaps for that very night. Katherine, too, noted Oscar’s edgy demeanor when she served the Stewarts their meal, though decided to mind her business and not inquire about his plans or Lewis’ whereabouts.

  At that same moment, Lewis, Owen and eight other men had positioned themselves on the edge of the woods around Neeley’s Pond where all the horses in the village had been corralled. Only three soldiers were on gua
rd tonight, casually patrolling the area since rarely did anybody pass by after sunset as it was far from the village proper. While all ten men were silently positioning themselves to overpower the guards and release the horses in a grand stampede to the west entrance of the village, only Owen and two other individuals would actually ride upon the horses to freedom, crouched down on the animals in the center of the galloping storm. All hoped that speed and darkness would keep them concealed from the eyes and arrows of the enemy.

  Meanwhile in three northern parts of the village, Len Harold and two other men arrived at their separate destinations–abandoned houses or shacks that were beyond repair. Placed inside each structure was a small container of lamp oil, a bit of tinder, kindling and a pair of fire stones, all the necessary ingredients to start a fast blaze. These items had been secretly placed there over the last two days by members of the resistance. When Len arrived at his location, a dilapidated one-story cottage in the woody, northwest section of town, he immediately started a tiny bonfire. He warmed his hands over the flames while waiting for the village bell to toll before he would spread the oil and ignite the diversionary blaze. He envisioned the men in the two other locations doing exactly as he was right now, waiting with nervous anticipation for the guard bell to ring.

  Something then caught his attention. A snapping twig? Some rustling leaves? Perhaps the crackling fire was playing tricks on his ears. He stood and went to the next room where cracks in the wall allowed inside a constant breeze from the outdoors. He peered through one of the splits, seeing only shadows and darkness, yet tormented by a vague uneasiness. Was somebody nearby? Had someone followed him?

  He heard it again, a shuffle of footsteps through the dry grass and weeds. But Len could see nothing through the narrow crack in the wall as it was too dark outside. Perhaps it was a deer feeding or a loose dog from a nearby home, he speculated. Suddenly, all was silent again. Len exhaled, his face tight with worry. He returned to his fire to await the tolling bell, unaware of the swords being unsheathed by approaching soldiers among the thick shadows surrounding the cottage.