About an hour before sunset, the hikers collectively slumped their shoulders when a steep bank dotted with trees loomed in the distance. As it stretched north and south as far as they could see in the deepening gloom, there was no way to go around it without going off course. Neither man wanted to attempt the climb so late in the day as they were tired and hungry, yet putting off the climb until morning would waste an hour of daylight.
Nicholas looked discouragingly up the hill as he ground one foot into the soil, his arms akimbo. He glanced at Leo, seeing the same weary attitude reflected back.
“I’m beyond tired, but I’d rather do this now than tomorrow,” he said. “You?”
Leo smirked, feeling as if fate were keeping them from their real task. “I’d hate to make camp here and let the light go to waste. It’d feel like we we’re going backward.”
Nicholas fished out a biscuit from his pack and split it between them. After they drank some water, the two men began the slow and steady ascent up the hill, slippery with loose soil and leaves. They grabbed onto small trees along the way to keep steady and pull themselves forward, stopping several times to catch their breaths. It proved a grueling climb so late in the day when dinner and a full night’s sleep beckoned to them.
They made it halfway up the hill as the last rays of sunlight cut across the trees from the southwest. The clouds had thinned even more during the day so that now large patches of deep blue sky were visible. A handful of the brightest stars were just noticeable in the dying light. Leo finally signaled for them to rest briefly and drink some water. But just as they were prepared to continue on, a distant sound caught their attention. They glanced at each other, momentarily questioning their senses.
Leo raised an eyebrow. “Was that…?”
Nicholas held up a hand, his ears searching out the twilight sounds playing on the night breezes. Several long moments later they heard it again, the very same sound.
“We’re not hearing things, Leo,” he said with a smile.
Suddenly the two men continued their climb with renewed vigor, digging their boots into the stubborn soil, grabbing thin tree trunks and branches to help pull them up, all the while ignoring previous aches and pains and heavy shoulder packs as a new energy spurred them up the hill in the last remnants of golden sunlight. When they finally reached the top, they stood upright again and the pressure on their backs and knees disappeared. They encountered another stretch of trees before them, yet their hearts beat with unbearable joy because they could see wide swaths of countryside splashed in shades of purple twilight just beyond.
They raced through the woods until they finally emerged into the open air of a cool autumn evening, having at last escaped the confines of the Cashua. The vast dome of the sky was dotted with icy stars, and the glow of the Bear Moon, just past first quarter, rose high in the east amid a trace of gauzy clouds. They stood on the edge of a wide field in the local farming district with patches of dry grass beneath their well-worn boots, though at the moment it felt like soft feathers after the punishing terrain inside the forest. About a half mile to the southwest, Leo pointed out the subtle yellow glow of a farmhouse silhouetted against the horizon. A moment later, the two men heard the noise that had caught their attention earlier, grinning at one another in the fading light.
“Cows,” Nicholas said, delighted with the discovery. “And they never sounded so sweet.”
CHAPTER 50
Some Friendly Assistance
Nicholas and Leo made camp along the edge of the woods. Having escaped the suffocating confines of the Cashua Forest, they were too exhausted to explore the open region that greeted them like a long, lost friend. After starting a small fire and enjoying a leisurely dinner from their thinning food supplies, the two men drifted off to sleep under a veil of stars, neither one waking even once during the long, cold night.
Not until midmorning the following day did they finally stir, but the travelers felt only partially refreshed after their ordeal, each yearning for more rest. Nicholas gazed out upon a vista of browning fields and scattered trees, knowing he and Leo would have to continue hiking west to find the Lorren River.
“It shouldn’t be too far to the water,” he told Leo after glancing at his map. “A few miles at most. The village of Woodwater is on the opposite side.”
“So what are we waiting for?” he replied, eager to move on.
Less than two hours later, after trudging across vast, windswept fields, crossing an occasional stream or following wheel-rutted dirt roads, they finally saw the Lorren River looming ahead. It cut through the land as it snaked down from the distant Northern Mountains and emptied into the Trillium Sea. But when they reached its eastern bank, their hearts sank as they stared across the water at another vast stretch of grass and scrubland.
“We obviously missed the mark,” Nicholas said, wondering if they had exited the woods either too far to the north or the south. “No sign of any village here. So which direction do we take?”
Leo shrugged, shading his eyes as he scanned the area. “I don’t see signs of civilization anywhere. Not even a trail of chimney smoke to give us a clue.”
“My instincts tell me we should head south. Agreed?” he asked, getting a nod of approval from Leo. After walking along the banks of the Lorren for less than an hour, their choice was confirmed. A farmer, hauling a cartload of fresh hay, happily stopped to give them directions.
“Woodwater’s a good seven or eight miles more to the south,” he stated, indicating the way with a thumb pointed across his shoulder. “But you’ll have to cross the river to get there.”
They thanked him for his assistance, realizing they had emerged from the Cashua Forest too far north. Both hungrily plodded ahead through grassy fields and patches of woodland. But as twilight approached, a scattering of lights appeared one by one across the Lorren River less than a mile to the south, giving them hope that the punishing trek had been worth the struggle. The village of Woodwater was at last in sight.
“Finally!” Nicholas said, a sense of relief washing over him.
He and Leo had hurried to cover the remaining distance to a point on the Lorren River opposite the village. The glow of the waxing gibbous Bear Moon rising in the east behind a veil of clouds cast a cool, silvery light upon the dark waters of the river. The two shadowy figures stood on the edge of the Lorren and gazed across, their white breaths rising in the cold autumn night. Tomorrow they would find a way to the other side, but for now they basked in the pride of having traveled so far in their quest.
Nicholas recalled looking at a map of this area in one of King Justin’s chambers, tracing the length of the Lorren River with his finger and wondering if he and Leo had the will and stamina to reach the waterway. But now that he actually stood upon its grassy banks, he felt there was nothing he couldn’t do if he put his mind to the task–including finding and rescuing Ivy. A sense of renewed hope seized him. He could hardly wait until morning to continue.
Leo nudged him with an elbow. “What’s that?” he said, pointing downriver to the north.
Nicholas turned and focused on the spot about a quarter mile away on the water. A faint glow of what appeared to be three torch lights floating down the river grabbed his attention. He and Leo gazed at them curiously, amused and mesmerized by the weird sight of floating points of light in the middle of the Lorren. Moments later, Nicholas detected the vague outline of three large log rafts, each one with several men upon it methodically poling upriver. He suddenly understood what he was seeing and flopped onto the grass bank, pulling Leo down with him.
“What are you–?”
“Shhh!” he whispered, lying on his stomach and pointing across the water. “Those are troops from the Northern Isles,” he softly said.
Leo focused as the men and rafts drifted closer into view, his mouth agape. “You’re right,” he whispered back, estimating about a dozen men on each of the three, long rafts. A single torch had been affixed to the front of each vessel, and
as they passed through a shaft of moonlight, Leo noted that the rafts were also laden with several wooden crates, barrels and other supplies covered with canvas tarps.
“They’re heading upriver into the Northern Mountains to Kargoth,” Nicholas said, imagining the long and lonely journey ahead for those men. “It makes our trek in the Cashua seem like a stroll through the countryside.”
“And there’s nobody here to stop them. The Islanders have free rein to do what they want.”
Nicholas sighed. “So it seems.”
As there was no established kingdom or standing army in this thinly populated strip of Laparia, troops from the Northern Isles expected no resistance to their plan to supply Kargoth with men, weapons and goods. Nicholas wondered if the Islanders would have designs on this region afterward. Now that they had arrived, what was stopping them from establishing a permanent colony? They had invaded Montavia in the east and would soon engage a large portion of King Justin’s troops in battle there. But what forces would stop them here in the west? Now more than ever, the urgency of his and Leo’s mission became clear. The key had to be reforged and the Enâri destroyed to give Arrondale and the other free realms a fighting chance against the forces of Vellan.
Several minutes later after the three rafts had poled upriver and out of sight, Nicholas and Leo stood and brushed themselves off, fully realizing the danger they faced. They moved on in gloomy silence to find a place to pass the night.
Billowing clouds of gray and black filled the sky late the following morning, threatening to unleash a harsh rainfall at any moment. Nicholas and Leo had slept long past daybreak beneath a clump of pine trees on a field’s edge close to the river. They needed to find better shelter soon or risk getting soaked. A farmhouse lay about a half mile up a dirt road and the two men decided to seek refuge there. Afterward, they would contact the owner about securing passage across the river to Woodwater and hopefully obtain information about the Island troops in the process.
Raindrops pelted the ground minutes later as they raced across a narrow stretch of field to a large, whitewashed barn. They rushed inside, greeted by the smell of damp hay and dirty stalls. Several cows and a few horses grazed contentedly outdoors in an adjacent field, unfazed by the weather. A stone house, guarded by a few bare maple trees, stood several yards away down a dirt pathway, its chimney releasing curls of bluish smoke into the raucous skies.
“Let’s schedule our next mission in summertime,” Nicholas joked as he pulled out his water skin and took several refreshing gulps. “I’d prefer more accommodating weather.”
“I’ll mention your suggestion to Nedry,” Leo said, setting down his backpack to enjoy a much needed stretch. He peered outdoors at the pounding rain, knowing they might be stuck here for some time. The steady patter upon the roof sounded both melancholy and hypnotic.
“When it lets up, we’ll knock at the house and see about getting across the Lorren,” Nicholas said, removing his pack as well. “Maybe the owner can recommend an experienced guide in Woodwater.”
“One we can afford.” Leo plopped down on the ground and reclined against his pack. “We need to buy more food supplies, too. I think we’re down to biscuit crumbs and moldy cheese.”
“You’re the apple salesman. I’ll leave the negotiating to you.”
“I won’t disappoint you,” Leo replied, closing his eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take a short nap as long as we’re trapped here.”
“Rest away,” Nicholas replied, strolling about the barn to examine the interior. He recalled life back on Maynard Kurtz’s farm and all the hours he had spent there working the fields, tending to the animals and mending broken fences. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
He wondered how Maynard was carrying on, hoping his adoptive father would forgive him for running away should he ever return. But now that Maynard was acting mayor according to King Justin, perhaps the man had no time to worry about such things. He wasn’t the only person in the world with problems, after all. But before Nicholas could ponder the matter further, he detected a fleeting shadow behind him and spun around, standing face to face with a man holding up the pointed end of a pitchfork aimed directly at his chest.
“Mind telling me exactly where you two came from?” the man asked, his voice steady and confident. He was about twice Nicholas’ age, unshaven, and his head of hair in desperate need of combing.
Nicholas took a step back as Leo snapped opened his eyes. Both looked fearfully at the man who presumably owned the property. Leo swallowed and sat up on the floor, scuttling backward on his hands and feet to a safe distance before standing up.
“We apologize for trespassing,” Nicholas said, “but we needed a place to get out of the rain. We don’t mean any harm and will leave right now if you want.”
The man suspiciously glanced at their backpacks. “You from around these parts?” They simultaneously shook their heads. “Then where are you from? And more importantly, where are you going?”
“We’re from Arrondale,” Leo said calmly. “My friend, Nicholas Raven, is from the village of Kanesbury. I’m from a small place called Minago. My name is Leo Marsh.”
“We just spent nine days hiking through the Cashua Forest and are on our way into the Dunn Hills,” Nicholas added. “But first we need to cross the river to Woodwater and find ourselves a guide and buy some supplies.”
The man lowered the pitchfork slightly, inclined to believe the two young men by the tone of their voices, but his fears and suspicions were still not allayed. “What’s so important in the Dunn Hills that you traipsed all the way here from Arrondale?”
Nicholas and Leo looked at one another, not prepared to reveal the details of their mission. Yet both knew they had to tell the man something if they were to leave unscathed.
“The reason for our trip is personal, though we may be able to give you some details later,” Nicholas said. “But you must believe us that we don’t want to cause you any trouble. All we’re looking for is a way across the river and a guide for our journey.”
“That’s all you need?” the man asked.
“Well, a bath, a shave and a few days of rest wouldn’t hurt either,” Leo uncomfortably joked as he combed a hand through his hair, hoping to appear less threatening.
As the man continued to study them intently, Nicholas thought he detected a flicker of growing trust in his wide, brown eyes. “What’s your name, if I may ask?”
“You may ask, though I’m not prepared to answer just yet.” The man turned to Leo. “Name the King of Morrenwood.”
“Huh?”
“Tell me the name of the King of Morrenwood. You say you’re from Arrondale, so you should know. It’s a simple request.”
“King Justin,” he said matter-of-factly.
“And his son?” he added, pointing at Nicholas. “Quick!”
“Prince Gregory,” Nicholas replied with a straight face, slightly amused that this man was testing their honesty but not wanting to show it.
The man nodded and lowered the pitch fork. “Prince Gregory. Correct. Most people claiming to be from Arrondale might have known King Justin’s name, but few, I suppose, would have recalled his son’s name so quickly. So I’m guessing you’re not with those troublemaking men from the Northern Isles.”
“They’re the last people we want to see,” Nicholas said, explaining how he and Leo saw three rafts floating up the river the previous night. “We’re fully aware of their incursion into this area and their mission to supply Kargoth. You can trust Leo and me when we say that the allies of Vellan are no friends of ours.”
“That’s good to hear,” the man said, rubbing his curious face. “Will Fish. That’s my name. And I’ve decided to trust you up to a point. For now anyway. But tell me, how do you know so much about what the Islanders are up to? Why exactly are you here?”
Nicholas and Leo hesitated, at a loss for words. They knew they had to be careful about revealing explicit details of their mission, yet n
eeded this man’s help to continue on their journey. Leo indicated for Nicholas to play along.
“Mr. Fish, at the risk of jeopardizing our safety, I’m going to tell you that Nicholas and I are here at King Justin’s bidding.” Both Will Fish and Nicholas nearly gasped at his statement. “We’re on a secret mission, and should you wish to assist us, your help will be greatly appreciated.”
The farmer leaned on the handle of his pitchfork, intrigued as he eyed the two men with renewed wonder. “I don’t know if I totally believe you, gentlemen, but you definitely have my attention. Let’s discuss this further over a bowl of hot corn chowder my wife is fixing for lunch. This rain is chilling me to the bone.”
Within the next hour, Nicholas and Leo were each polishing off a second helping of corn chowder with buttered bread and fresh milk at the Fishes’ kitchen table. Will and his wife, Beth Ann, along with their two teenage sons and a younger daughter, were excited to have unexpected company during this dreary time of year. All quickly warmed up to their guests and treated them as if they were long-lost relatives. Beth Ann served tea and honey biscuits after the meal while one of her sons added more wood to the fireplace. Outside, murky skies deluged the landscape with rain and raw breezes, glazing the window panes with rippling sheets of gray water. Inside, however, Nicholas and Leo savored the joyful and talkative mayhem that surrounded them, thankful for a welcomed respite from the grueling rigors of the road.
But as the afternoon wore on and the rain showed no sign of letting up, Beth Ann suggested that they spend the night in the barn, refusing to take no for an answer. It took little cajoling on her part for them to accept since both admitted that a few days of rest would be more beneficial to the speed and success of their journey than simply plowing onward while sore and exhausted. Mrs. Fish playfully ordered her husband and their two guests off to another part of the house, knowing they had much to discuss in private.
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web (The Complete Epic Fantasy) Page 81