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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  As he walked down the corridor, voices approached around the far corner. Mune froze for a moment and then slipped behind a wooden statue in a dimly lit alcove to his right. He dropped to the ground and curled up into a ball behind the base of the sculpture that depicted a man with a short beard holding a sword. Mune guessed that he was someone of importance in the history and politics of Arrondale, glad that the obscure figure from the past provided him a hiding place just in the nick of time.

  “Down the next hallway on our left,” said the guard who was escorting Leo along the corridor. Mune held his breath, peeking around the base of the statue. “The last door at the end of that passage leads up to the turret where the Spirit Box resides. These two keys open the doors at the bottom and top. Then it’s your turn to use your key.”

  Leo responded with a touch of humor. “There are a lot of keys in this business. I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

  Mune’s ears perked up upon mention of the Spirit Box and a key. His heart beat faster. He recalled the late night meeting with Madeline and Caldurian in Kanesbury just over a month ago. Arileez and Gavin had been present along with the two locals, Zachary Farnsworth and Dooley Kramer. At that gathering, Dooley recounted how he had infiltrated King Justin’s war council and the short meeting afterward regarding the medallion. He had mentioned that two people volunteered to take the medallion to the wizard Frist to have it reforged into the key to the Spirit Box.

  “They must have succeeded!” Mune thought with horror. He knew that Vellan’s forces would be dealt a critical blow with one turn of that key. It was his job to stop it.

  He saw the boots of two men pass swiftly by the alcove, their footfalls echoing off the walls and then fading as they turned left down the corridor. Mune panicked, wondering what to do. He had come here to help kidnap and replace King Justin, hoping one day that Arileez would retrieve the Spirit Box or the key, if it was ever successfully remade. But now the key was here and on its way to open the Spirit Box. He knew he had to do something to stop the two men, but there wasn’t enough time to find help as they would reach the upper room at any moment.

  Mune racked his brain as he cautiously stood up, leaning on the statue for support. Slowly his eyebrows rose as a desperate plan took shape in his mind. His palms grew sweaty and his heart raced. He lowered a hand and gripped the hilt of his dagger, unable to recall the last time he had used it. Mune took a deep breath to calm down before unsheathing his weapon. It was time to jump into the game full-bore and bloody his hands.

  CHAPTER 72

  A Pair of Kings

  Princess Megan raced down a corridor with her guardsman, the shadowy stonework and fluttering oil lamps streaming past her in a blur. She had left Leo minutes ago in another wing of the Citadel and her heart ached with each step that separated them. But she was also eager to find her grandfather, hoping he was safe. All was quiet as they weaved their way among the hallways and through various rooms, having taken a few detours to avoid areas of fighting.

  “We’re almost there,” the guard said as he slowed down near the end of one corridor. He signaled for Megan to keep behind him while glancing left and right down an adjoining hallway. With both ways clear, he and Megan turned right as it would provide the quickest route to King Justin’s presumed location.

  “I shall tell my grandfather of your exemplary and courteous conduct this morning,” she told the guard. They hurried down three steps near the last third of the corridor before it branched off in two directions at a slight angle to one another.

  “While much appreciated, Princess Megan, I’m just doing my job,” he replied. He stopped suddenly, extending an arm to halt her progress. “I hear voices,” he whispered, pointing at the left turn which he had planned to take.

  Megan clutched the ends of the velvet stole around her shoulders, waiting for further instructions. She heard the pounding of footfalls and a scattering of voices to the left and glanced at her protector with fear in her eyes.

  “Do we go right instead?” she softly asked.

  The guard shook his head, pointing back down the corridor they had just traversed. “We’ll go to the other end of this hallway and circle around to the right along the connecting back corridor. Then it’s through the library and out one of the side entrances.” He gently took hold of Megan by the arm to lead her there.

  “Yes, I understand where you’re taking me,” she replied. “I believe we can–”

  Before she completed her thought, a chorus of thunderous voices exploded from the right corridor as well. Megan expected a mob of soldiers to rush out from both sides at any moment. But as the voices on the left grew nearer and louder, the guard smiled, recognizing some of them. His fellow soldiers were swiftly advancing.

  “We’ve just been given some valuable time!” he said, signaling for Megan to wait against the right side of the corridor while he dashed toward the left archway just as a dozen of King Justin’s soldiers hurried toward him, their swords at the ready. The men were delighted to see one of their own as Megan’s guard pointed to the passageway on the right. “They’re heading this way.”

  “We already know,” the lead man replied, noting Princess Megan standing nearby. “But others may soon follow behind us, so get her out of here another way.”

  “I had already planned to.”

  The guard ran over to Megan, instinctively grabbed her hand and urged her to race back down the corridor with him as fast as she could. Just then, a handful of Commander Uta’s troops burst through the right archway. A clash of swords rent the air as the shouts and cries of soldiers rose above the intensifying battle. Megan and her guard scurried back up the three steps and sprinted to the end of the hall. They turned right down another corridor alongside one of the Citadel libraries as echoes of fighting lingered in the air.

  Moments later, they slipped into the library through a doorway on their left. The room was silent, vacant and dark at this early hour as a hint of gray light pressed softly against the window panes overlooking the trees and river behind the Citadel. Megan and the guard made their way to a side door and slipped out into a narrow hallway that led to a spiral staircase leading to another corridor above. They began to climb.

  “Are you holding up, Princess Megan?” the guard inquired.

  “I traipsed around half of Arrondale recently, so this is a breeze,” Megan replied. “I’m just worried about Grandfather.”

  “Of course you are. We’ll be there in moments.”

  They worked their way along several more corridors and then down another flight of steps before turning around and heading in the opposite direction. They were now beyond the area they had originally hoped to reach and began circling back, finally heading down a wide corridor awakening with the first faint traces of dawn. Megan and the guard suddenly stopped, shocked by the scene they had stumbled upon.

  In the middle of the hallway, amid the hanging tapestries and fluttering oil lamps, lay the body of a dead soldier from the King’s Guard, a young man not much older than Megan. A figure knelt over the body on one knee, his head bowed and his hand upon his brow as if grieving. Sprawled upon the floor behind the figure lay three more dead bodies, all streaked with fresh blood and dressed in coats and uniforms of the Northern Isles. Megan and her guard slowly approached the lone individual until he looked up, his face grim and tired. Megan, however, smiled.

  “Grandfather!” she cried, running up to King Justin who stood and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Megan! You’re safe,” he said. “But where have you been?”

  “We had to take the long way to reach you, sir,” the guard replied, still gripping his sword and cautiously scanning the area. “What happened here?”

  “And where are your guards?” Megan asked, taking her grandfather’s hands in hers, noting they were cold to the touch. She feared that he might be coming down with a sickness after all the turmoil and traveling he had endured lately.

  “They moved on only minutes ago, chasin
g after remnants of the enemy,” he said, pointing down the far end of the corridor. King Justin again looked at the body near his feet, sighing in distress. “This man saved my life, slaying that soldier over there,” he said, indicating one of the Islanders.

  “What happened?” Megan asked.

  “Before you answer, sir, I must insist that we find a more secure location,” the guard said.

  “We should be fine right here,” the King replied. “We have the last of them on the run. They tried to kidnap me. About ten of them. But my men were on them at once and slew three of the intruders before the others fled, surprised by the ferocity of my troops. I ordered them to pursue, refusing to hide anymore.”

  Megan hugged her grandfather again, delighted to be at his side. She looked up into his ice blue eyes. “Still, we should leave and find a safer place until we’re certain that the Citadel is secure.”

  King Justin smiled. “How can I refuse my granddaughter such a request? We shall go where he thinks best,” he replied, indicating the guard. “Lead on, if you please.”

  “At once,” he replied, keeping in front of them with his sword raised.

  But they hadn’t taken more than ten steps when they heard voices and footfalls just around the corner ahead of them. Megan’s eyes grew wide in terror, fearing that another troop of Islanders had arrived. The guard swiftly grabbed one of the fallen soldier’s swords and raised both weapons high as he moved backward down the corridor, motioning for Megan and King Justin to keep behind him. A moment later, a dozen soldiers rounded the corner and headed directly for the trio before coming to a halt. Megan and her guard smiled with relief when seeing that it was King Justin’s troops who had arrived. Their smiles lasted only a moment, however, when they saw the face of a man accompanying them emerge from the center of the group. Megan’s jaw dropped in disbelief, unable to believe her eyes as she stared with shock at a second King Justin.

  “Who are you?” she asked. Her hands trembled as she looked upon the man, and then shifted her gaze back and forth between the two identical Kings, each dressed alike and eyeing one another with burning contempt.

  “Keep away from him, Megan!” the second King warned as he stepped away from his soldiers and walked toward her, pointing at his likeness. “He is an impostor!”

  “Megan, don’t listen to him!” the other King replied, gently placing a hand upon the arm of the young princess as if to protect her. “This is a sorcerer’s trick, no doubt. He and those soldiers are not who you think.”

  “I don’t know what to think!” she cried, stepping away until her back was against the wall. “Am I dreaming? Is this for real?”

  “It is very real, but he is not!” replied the second King Justin. He glared at his mirror image standing a few feet away. “Minutes ago I was kidnapped by men from the Isles and replaced by this fraudulent being, but my guardsmen rescued me before I could be ushered out of the Citadel by the enemy. Now we’re back to expose the impostor.”

  The other King shook his head in disgust. “What a clever tale you weave, so much so that I almost believe it myself. Almost.” He glanced at Megan for support. “My men repelled the Islanders’ first attack when they tried to take me away by force. Now the Island soldiers have returned in disguise as soldiers of Arrondale, hoping to replace me by using this subterfuge and fooling you in the process. But it will not work.”

  “Megan!” the second King pleaded, attempting to convince her by the tone of his voice that he was truly her grandfather and that the men surrounding him were indeed soldiers of Arrondale.

  “Granddaughter!” countered the first King with equal intensity, extending his hand to the princess.

  Megan looked at her guard, silently pleading for advice. After pausing a few moments with uncertainty, he offered a tentative reply.

  “I think we should detain both Kings until we get to the bottom of this royal mess,” he said, glancing at the other soldiers. Though they looked like his fellow guardsmen, he began to wonder if they were also impostors. “Unless, of course, Princess Megan, you have a better idea.”

  “He is the real King Justin!” one of the soldiers replied, pointing to the King who had accompanied his group to this spot.

  “I appreciate your conviction,” Megan’s guard replied, still clutching the two swords as if anticipating trouble. “But now I’m not even sure about you!”

  For a long and stressful moment, a weighty silence hung over the gathering as the gray light of dawn seeped into the corridor from a row of windows. Megan regained her composure and stepped forward with growing impatience, feeling angrier and less fearful as the seconds ticked by.

  “I am beyond tired of thugs from the Northern Isles and elsewhere disrupting the lives of my family and me!” she fumed, her fiery spirit reignited. “So I’m going to end this charade with one simple question.” Everyone looked at Megan with wonder, awaiting her solution. “Grandfather,” she continued, addressing both King Justins, “tell me what jewel you gave me for my tenth birthday. As it was a gift I treasured very much, the real King Justin will know of what I speak.”

  “A most wise solution,” the first King replied, eliciting a smile of hope from Megan. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from my intelligent granddaughter.” But before answering her question, he glanced at his counterpart, a slight smile upon his face. “Unless, of course, you would like to reveal the identity of the precious jewel that looked so beautiful upon Megan whenever she wore it. I will at least give you a sporting chance after all the trouble you’ve gone through to impersonate me.”

  “Quite gentlemanly of you, sir,” replied the other King as Megan inched toward him, her confusion now dispelled. “But I don’t need a sporting chance since your words have just given you up as a fraud.” The first King raised his eyes in mock surprise, appearing unbothered by the accusation. “You see, the jewel I had given my granddaughter for her tenth birthday was a horse, not a gemstone.” The real King Justin smiled at Megan who ran over to him and took his hand which felt warm to the touch. “She had named the horse Ruby because of a patch of red mane upon its back.”

  “Ruby was my favorite present ever, Grandfather,” Megan said, basking in the comfort of his presence.

  “As you often told me it was,” he replied with a smile before looking up at his double with a wrathful glare. “And now that that is settled, my men shall arrest you and find out who you really are and who you work for, though I already have my suspicions.”

  “Who I really am?” Arileez laughed condescendingly, still in the guise of King Justin. “I am someone with powers you cannot even imagine, so you would do well to give me a wide berth,” he replied as King Justin’s soldiers raised their swords, prepared to advance upon the intruder. Arileez’ voice now took on a bitter and defiant quality as he carefully scanned the corridor, determining his options for attack or escape.

  “But since you failed to replace me,” King Justin shot back, “the sense of invincibility you’re trying to convey is a dismal attempt at best. We do not fear you, whatever you are.”

  “You had better!” The impostor sneered at his counterpart in the milky gray light, the depths of his eyes growing lifeless and his countenance seemingly paler the longer anyone gazed upon him.

  “Go with my men now or suffer the consequences,” King Justin ordered, indicating for Megan to keep behind him as he stepped forward. “I will not repeat my request.”

  “I would question the strength of your authority if you did,” Arileez replied.

  Megan’s guard, who was standing closest to the impostor, moved cautiously toward him, signaling for him to walk down the corridor. But Arileez, weaponless and still in King Justin’s form, raised his left arm and stared at the guardsman without a trace of intimidation, his fingers, hand and wrist suddenly liquefying and transforming into a sharp talon of a bird as the young man watched in utter horror. At that same moment, Arileez slowly raised his right arm, intending to transform and sweep it through t
he air and strike the guard while he and the others were mesmerized by the first spectacle. But King Justin anticipated what was about to happen, recalling his talk with Prince William about the attack in the cabin.

  “Look out!” he cried, rushing toward the guard as Arileez’ right arm sliced through the air, now also tipped with a sharp talon. King Justin pulled the soldier away just as the point of the talon swept by, tearing across the King’s upper right arm and ripping through his clothing and skin.

  King Justin and his guard tumbled to the ground as Arileez turned to strike again, but the King’s soldiers were upon him in an instant, plunging their blades repeatedly into the wizard. Arileez’ body snapped backward as he writhed in pain, throwing his arms into the air while emitting an ear-piercing scream that reverberated throughout the Citadel. As the swords tore through his skin again and again, Arileez’ talons were unable to hold their shape. With each thrust of a blade, the wizard’s natural form appeared for brief instances so that the soldiers couldn’t tell if they were slaying the wizard or the look-alike King. Arileez’ body then permanently reverted to its original state. The skeletal face, topped with strands of white hair, contorted in paroxysms of agony as bloodcurdling screams chilled the morning air. Arileez’ royal garb dissolved back into the frayed and tattered animal skins and fibrous coverings he had worn for so many years during his island imprisonment.