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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “As am I,” King Basil replied, clasping his friend’s hands to wish him good fortune. “It’s a shame that I haven’t the strength to ride with my men in battle, but I shall remain here and watch events unfold to the south and receive dispatches from the docks.”

  “Let’s hope they are good ones.” King Cedric stood and addressed the anxious gathering. “Well, it’s time to yank out another loose tooth, men. Let’s go!”

  Captain Silas glanced questioningly at Eucádus about the puzzling comment as everyone exited the tent. “Loose tooth? What’s that about?”

  “I’ll explain later,” Eucádus said with a slight grin as they stepped into the cold air and observed the sun-splashed field before them. Both anticipated great and terrible events to shortly unfold, but neither foresaw how any of them would turn out at day’s end.

  King Basil, in the meantime, quietly called to one of his aides. “Find me two swift scouts. There is an important dispatch I need to send at once.”

  Voices shouted and horns blared. Orders were dispatched to the troops spread across the south and west encampments below the King’s estate. Men armed with swords, knives, bows and shields, some on horseback though most on foot, began the slow march to war with colorful flags and banners waving in the cool breezes off the lake. Eucádus and King Cedric, along with Ramsey, Captain Tiber and Jeremias, led their companies down the field toward Drogin’s forces under the control of Irabesh. The rippling blue waters of Lake LaShear glistened under the rising sun. Fleeting shadows played upon the field and the water as remnants of billowing white clouds sailed across the sky. Farther down the field, stretches of spruce, beech, pine and elm trees framed the field on the left and right sides. A low ridge in the center was populated with Irabesh’s soldiers.

  Captain Silas, along with Ranen, Uland and Torr, directed troops east to the docks. Their breaths were taken away as they drew near the large ships that had sailed across the lake during the night and now stood like mythical giants from a childhood dream. Each ship proudly flew the flag of Maranac, yet waving in the breeze above each one was the orange, brown and black banner symbolizing King Drogin himself, a drab and gaudy display that mirrored an identical line of flags that Eucádus and his men faced upon the field.

  As his brave soldiers and their allies left the encampment, King Basil stepped out of the tent and looked across the battlefield and toward the lake as Garron, one of his aides, remained steadfastly at his side. A company of soldiers had also remained behind to protect the King and attend to duties in the encampment. King Basil inhaled the fresh morning air and reluctantly admitted to himself that it would be reeking with the stench of blood and death before long.

  “It is too lovely a day for warfare, Garron,” the King sadly commented to the young man. “I fear I shall not live long enough to see another peaceful morning or enjoy a stunning twilight along the lake again.” He coughed harshly and signaled for Garron to help him back inside where he sat on a bench at the table.

  “We may survive the day, sir,” Garron replied, his words veiled with the thinnest veneer of hope. “Captain Silas and Eucádus ride with many of the finest men from here and abroad. Do not despair before the first sword has been drawn.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” the King said with a forced smile. “Perhaps my words are laced with despair because of reasons other than the precarious outcome of this war.” He looked up and sighed. “Now that Morton and Victor are gone, there is no heir to the throne of Rhiál from my bloodline. That is one of the two things that has bothered me of late.” He looked up with an air of defeat. “Perhaps that is a sign that Drogin will be victorious. Under him, Rhiál will have a king. Not the best of kings,” he admitted with a sad chuckle, “but a king nonetheless.”

  “That will not happen because we will be victorious,” Garron said, sitting down beside his monarch. “And should the need arise, there are plenty of good and wise men who could be chosen to lead us in your absence. It would be like years ago when a new line of rulers was established after the Maranac of old was partitioned in two. You descend from that line, King Basil.”

  He nodded. “Yes, though it is a short line of rulers and one of necessity after that ugly war. Yet if Maranac and Rhiál are reunited–even forcibly so–perhaps Drogin might one day be overthrown and a just ruler will take his place. The new, whole Maranac could resemble our nation of old again when it was truly a glorious place to live.”

  “Let’s just get through today first, King Basil,” Garron remarked. “Now enough of such somber thoughts. Tell me, if you will, the second thing that has bothered you of late.”

  The King offered a weak smile. “And you just said that you’ve had enough of somber thoughts.” His smile disappeared and he looked at Garron with deep despair in his eyes. “I am deeply worried about Prince William and Aaron, of course. I feel responsible for whatever evil has befallen them. And if they never return…”

  Garron felt a pang of sympathy for King Basil whom he looked up to in a grandfatherly sort of way. Yet before he could mouth even the simplest words of support, the distant clash of swords and the rallying cries of fighting men could be heard upon the breeze. King Basil and Garron looked at one another and their hearts sank. The fighting had begun.

  CHAPTER 65

  A Clash of Swords

  Eucádus defiantly led the armies of Rhiál, Drumaya and the Five Clearings down the field toward Drogin’s waiting troops. He rode upon Chestnut, the steed Prince William had given him. Armed with a sword and several daggers, he wore a thick leather jerkin over his clothes with a brown, weather-stained cloak draped over his shoulders. King Cedric and Captain Tiber accompanied him on his right. Jeremias and Ramsey rode on his left.

  Though Drogin’s forces were a half mile away, they loomed large on the horizon. The men on his front lines were mounted on horses while a vast standing army stood confidently behind them. Eucádus had often imagined this moment, glad that King Cedric decided to join him in the cause. But as he neared Drogin’s army, he realized that his safe, distant musings were far different from the cold, stark reality now hitting him like a crashing wave.

  “I suppose Irabesh is having similar thoughts,” King Cedric commented when seeing Eucádus lost in the moment. “Your decision to come here was a wise one. I see that now even as we are about to leap into the fire.”

  “I still think so,” he replied. “But witnessing all of this at once makes a person take pause and assess how he ended up here.”

  “Everyone you’ve guided here is thinking that,” the King said. “Along with thoughts of loved ones, home and the passing years.”

  “And we’re still behind you anyway!” Ramsey joked, eliciting nervous laughter from those within earshot. “It’s been a long road, Eucádus, first from Harlow and then from the Star Clearing. But we all mean to walk the last steps with you wherever they lead us.”

  “This road leads to a bevy of madmen doing the bidding of an even madder wizard,” Jeremias remarked. “But the men of the Fox Clearing willingly face them as well. This day is not only for the citizens of Rhiál, but for our trio of nations held captive under Kargoth’s fist. I look forward to staring into Irabesh’s eyes and giving him a message to send back to Drogin and Vellan.”

  “I hope you have a bucketful of patience, my friend,” replied Ramsey, “because there is a long line of men waiting for just that chance, including me.”

  “I would sooner put an end to Irabesh’s miserable life and let that be my message,” Captain Tiber said. “But we can all dream, I suppose.”

  Eucádus indicated the shifting scene before them, noting that Drogin’s troops had slowly begun advancing. “I’m afraid the time for dreaming is over. The blistering truth of reality presses forward.” He took a deep breath, preparing his mind, heart and soul for what his eyes could plainly see. “This is it, my friends. May safety and good fortune ride with us.”

  With that, Eucádus and King Cedric exchanged knowing glances before a
signal was given to hasten forward. The thundering sound of galloping horses reverberated across the landscape as thin, ghostly clouds of dust eddied and somersaulted across the dying field. An array of soldiers on foot followed behind with rapid steps. As the army of Rhiál advanced, Drogin’s line suddenly came to a stop. In perfect unison, his riders removed the bows from their backs, preparing to fire a volley of arrows at King Basil’s forces. But Eucádus and King Cedric had anticipated such a move. Before Drogin’s men had drawn the first arrows from their quivers, Eucádus raised his right arm and swept it through the air in a circular motion.

  In an instant, Eucádus, Jeremias and Ramsey broke to the left while King Cedric and Captain Tiber veered right, each group taking half of the equine forces with them and flanking the enemy’s front line on both sides. In those few moments, Drogin’s men stayed their arrows as new orders were frantically shouted at them to counter Eucádus’ maneuver. But as the dust settled where the herd of horses had split, hundreds of King Cedric and King Basil’s best archers were suddenly revealed to the enemy, armed and at the ready, releasing a torrent of arrows that sailed across the blue and white sky, their tips marked gold by the morning sun.

  The forces of Rhiál and their allies had struck the first blow. Many of Drogin’s men not quick enough with their shields were thrown from their horses when pierced by the deadly barrage. King Basil’s archers fired a second volley before exchanging their bows for swords, charging forward with the rest of the army behind them. Eucádus and King Cedric, in the meantime, after guiding their forces to the east and west tree lines, drove their steeds directly at their flustered foes. Irabesh, at his front line on horseback, quickly adjusted and split his riders as well, giving the order for them to shift east and west and confront the opponent. Irabesh’s foot soldiers were now shown in full, rushing forward with swords drawn and voices raised to meet their advancing counterparts in face-to-face combat.

  Soon the clash of metal upon metal echoed across the battlefield, accompanied by the grunts of brutal attack and the moans and cries of the hurt and mortally wounded. The fading greens and browns of the late-autumn foliage and woodscape were tinged red with the blood of the dead, dying and injured as the rising sun crept higher in the sky over the unsettled waters of Lake LaShear.

  As the battle progressed upon land, Captain Silas and Ranen led their forces to the shoreline and docks in the city. Uland, Torr and other captains in King Basil’s army followed. They had swiftly passed the King’s estate, now under heavy guard inside and out, and marched to Lake LaShear to face the imposing tall ships anchored offshore. But the enemy had wasted no time. Scores of large rowboats filled with warriors from Maranac, the Northern Isles and Kargoth had left the ships and made for the docks and strips of sandy beach. The women, children and elderly in town had long since barricaded themselves in their homes and shops or had taken to the road and sought safer dwellings in the woods or distant farmhouses.

  As Captain Silas approached the main stone roadway running parallel to the sandy shore and the lake just beyond, he split his forces in three, sending Torr and another captain to the farthest docks and narrow stretch of beach on the left while directing Uland and two other officers deeper into the city to the right. Silas and Ranen, in the meantime, marched straight into the center of the storm with the remaining troops, tearing across the sands and among the abandoned shanties and fishing boats to the docks now teeming with enemy soldiers climbing out of their boats en masse like angry wasps issuing from their nests.

  The span of time was short and breathtaking before the sounds of muted voices and pounding boots were replaced with fierce and furious cries from the collision of opposing troops. The dull clanking of silvery swords and daggers stained scarlet with blood rose above the swooshing sound of cold waves and the whistling breezes whipping off the tumultuous blue waters of the roiling lake.

  King Basil observed the twin battles from outside his tent. He had recovered his strength and stepped outdoors as Garron stood close by. Several soldiers kept guard as a bonfire blazed. He watched in subdued silence, a part of him reeling with disbelief that the tragic events were actually unfolding before his eyes during that first cold and gloomy hour.

  “The estate has not yet been breached,” he remarked, gazing at his living quarters. The three-story, whitewashed building of clay and stone stood as a silent beacon of hope, surrounded by a rock wall and a large company of guards. “The fighting to the east is confined to the lakeside. Captain Silas will do his best to see that it remains so. Still, I wish for more detailed reports.” The King turned to Garron. “Arrange a relay of riders to the estate to gage the fighting from there. Have one return to me every quarter hour with an update.”

  “Yes, sir,” Garron replied, running off to implement the order.

  King Basil, in the meantime, sat down on a small bench near the tent, refusing assistance from a passing soldier. “Thank you, but I can manage. I simply wish to be alone for a moment to think.”

  “Of course,” the man replied, bowing his head before walking away.

  Shortly after, a quartet of riders galloped off to the estate to gather information from there, the first preparing to return with his report in a quarter hour. Garron walked back to King Basil and let him know his instructions had been carried out.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked.

  “How about a cold biscuit and a cup of hot tea? That should hit the spot right now,” the King replied. “I’m sure you can scrounge it up among one of the camps.”

  “I’ll be happy to fetch that for you, King Basil. No doubt you haven’t had time for a proper breakfast today.”

  “Oh, my appetite it sated. I meant it for you. Go and find something to eat,” he replied with a sweep of his hand. “Off now.”

  “But I’m not really…” Garron then realized that King Basil wished to be alone, noting his pale complexion and labored breaths with concern. But the King’s aide kept the observation to himself. “Thank you, sir. I shall return when the first rider comes back with his report.” He stepped slowly away.

  “Thank you, Garron. We’ll talk then.”

  When King Basil was finally alone, he stared down the field as the sounds of distant warfare resonated. He had no desire to talk with Garron or anybody else in these precarious moments as his gloomy perception of events attacked his courage and darkened his spirit. For brief instances, he feared that his side might not win, though the battle was still young. His doubts gathered around him like thick mist before a bleak dawn, but he did not want to give life to those nagging suspicions by uttering them to Garron and his other men. He would sit here alone and let the moment pass, hoping his frame of mind would change when the first reports reached him.

  The fighting on the field continued. Soldiers, both horsed and unhorsed, battled one another in scattered groups or in one-on-one combat. The once orderly formations of armed riders and marching troops had broken down until all that remained were numerous pockets of warfare among the dying grasses and along the tree lines on the east and west.

  Eucádus and Jeremias had rallied their men several times on the east side of the field to confront the forces of Irabesh. Yet despite their best efforts to keep order, the lines were continually broken as their troops were outnumbered by Drogin’s first wave. King Cedric and Captain Tiber faced the same quandary across the trampled grass to the west. Ramsey, in the meantime, had fallen from his horse and fell into a skirmish on foot in the shade of the eastern woods with two dozen of King Basil’s men against a similarly sized force challenging them with raised swords and unrestrained fury.

  Eucádus briefly noted the broiling battle his friend had found himself in with great apprehension, but he was unable to lend a hand as he was engaged in combat with forty of his own riders against a swarm of foot soldiers along the edge of the low ridge. He swung his sword through the air with an expert hand while gripping the reins of his horse with the other, fending off soldiers
that Irabesh commanded with deadly aplomb. Yet for the moment in this encounter, Eucádus and his fellow troops had the advantage as they overwhelmed their enemy with skillful blade work and finessed horsemanship.

  “Let’s finish this and give Ramsey and the others a hand!” Eucádus shouted to Jeremias who rode nearby.

  “I was hoping they would help us!” he replied with a smirk, his sword singing lively in the air as beads of sweat streamed down his face. “But I suppose we–”

  “Jeremias!”

  At that moment, Jeremias was pulled backward off his horse by an Island soldier who had leapt up from behind and grabbed his coat, sending him tumbling to the ground as his horse bolted away. But Eucádus didn’t miss a beat. He charged forward and plunged his blade into the Islander before the man brought his dagger down upon his surprised foe. Jeremias quickly recovered, jumping up and grabbing his sword that had been knocked from his hand. He struck a deadly blow at another man speeding toward him who hailed from Kargoth. Confused clouds of gray slowly dispersed from the man’s eyes as death found him.

  “Whether from Kargoth, the Isles or Maranac, the enemy swarms at us like a cloud of stinger gnats!” Jeremias said to the grim amusement of those around him.

  “But luckily they are much bigger targets!” Eucádus shot back as he and his fellow soldiers galloped headlong at the remaining twenty or so enemy troops gathered near the edge of the grassy rise.

  Jeremias hurriedly scanned the immediate area for his horse. When he saw it galloping toward the eastern trees where Ramsey was fighting, he sighed, knowing that he would be a foot soldier for a time. He took a deep breath, gripped his sword and then raced to catch up with his friends.