Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web (The Complete Epic Fantasy)
Page 135
“You do what you have to do to protect the village,” she said, her words tired and defeated. “And I’ll watch out for myself, just as you suggested. In the meantime, your secret is safe with me.”
“I’m glad we have an understanding,” he replied, flashing a brief smile. “So glad indeed. Now do enjoy your day, Miss Durant.”
With that, Farnsworth turned and walked down the street in the gray light of morning, heading for the banking house as if it were just another day. Katherine, though, felt dead inside, contemplating if his hired eyes and ears were already watching her. She sighed, wondering if she could trust any acquaintance or stranger who might pass her by in the cold and dreary days in the long winter ahead. Her life, and now her plans to expose Farnsworth, felt frozen in place.
END OF PART EIGHT
NICHOLAS RAVEN
AND THE
WIZARDS’ WEB
VOLUME 3
CHAPTERS 86 – 120 & Postscript
THOMAS J. PRESTOPNIK
Copyright © 2017 & 2015 by Thomas J. Prestopnik
All rights reserved.
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards’ Web - Volume 3
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a book reviewer who may quote short excerpts of this literary work in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.
Visit Thomas J. Prestopnik’s website at www.TomPresto.com.
Cover Art: iStock
(for individually published volumes)
Cover Artist: Kelly McGrogan
Cover Layout: Ryan McGrogan
Maps: Thomas J. Prestopnik
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards’ Web
Nicholas Raven, a young gristmill accountant, just wanted a little adventure in his life. But he gets more than he bargained for when tumultuous winds of the past sweep him away on a journey he’ll never forget.
Invisible webs are being spun over the lands of Laparia; webs of war, deceit, revenge and manipulation, all by two corrupt wizards with different objectives. When Nicholas becomes an inconvenience to their plans which pass by his very doorstep, he finds himself unwittingly ensnared in their vindictive schemes.
After being accused of crimes he didn’t commit, Nicholas reluctantly flees home. But whether by chance or fate, his personal problems collide with the turbulent state of affairs around him, and he soon finds himself on a journey to the far corners of Laparia.
Against a backdrop of war, kidnapping, mistaken identity and newfound love, Nicholas becomes embroiled in a rescue mission along the shores of a sprawling sea, takes part in a quest to reforge a magic key that could tip the balance of power in a growing war, and is ultimately drawn into the center of the tangled web of intrigue that has plagued his life from the very start.
For every reader in search
of an exciting adventure.
I hope you find one
inside these pages.
CONTENTS
MAPS
PART NINE
THE ROADS SOUTH
Chapter 86
The Gray River
Chapter 87
The Mountain Resistance
Chapter 88
A Deed Well Done
Chapter 89
The Waiting Game
Chapter 90
A Vast and Mighty Herd
Chapter 91
Something in the Air
Chapter 92
Through the Gates of the Citadel
Chapter 93
The Road to Drumaya
Chapter 94
Spring’s Healing Touch
PART TEN
IN ENEMY TERRITORY
Chapter 95
Numerous Narratives
Chapter 96
A Wizard’s Web
Chapter 97
Where There’s Smoke
Chapter 98
Varied Paths
Chapter 99
The Drusala River
Chapter 100
Like the Breath of a Fiery Serpent
Chapter 101
The Secret of Deshla
Chapter 102
A Battle of Words
Chapter 103
Through a Dark and Winding Passage
PART ELEVEN
THE LAST STAND
Chapter 104
The Battle of Del Norác
Chapter 105
Blood on the Eastern Field
Chapter 106
Mountain Rumblings
Chapter 107
Strategic Maneuvers
Chapter 108
Apples and Arrows
Chapter 109
Views from On High
Chapter 110
River and Mountain
Chapter 111
Moonlight and Mist
Chapter 112
A City of Tents
Chapter 113
The Long Road Home
PART TWELVE
THE JOURNEY HOME
Chapter 114
Back to Where it All Began
Chapter 115
A Familiar Face
Chapter 116
A Plan Takes Shape
Chapter 117
Baiting the Trap
Chapter 118
The Trial
Chapter 119
The Verdicts
Chapter 120
The Many Roads Ahead
POSTSCRIPT
A WRITER’S WEB
MAPS
Map One
The Lands of Laparia
Map Two
The Kingdom of Arrondale
Map Three
The County of Litchfield
Map Four
The Village of Kanesbury
Each map follows twice.
First as a two-page spread, and then on a single page.
NICHOLAS RAVEN
AND THE
WIZARDS’ WEB
VOLUME 3
~ CHAPTERS 86 - 120 ~
PART NINE
THE ROADS SOUTH
CHAPTER 86
The Gray River
Somewhere in the darkness, Ivy’s cry for help tormented him, drawing Nicholas ever closer. Her frantic plea pierced his heart like an icy blade. Her frightened voice rose above the slapping sea waves and the crackling flames of the bonfires. He finally spotted her as she was being dragged to the water’s edge by two shadowy figures, her arms extended as he raced toward her. His legs felt lead-heavy. He could hardly catch a breath. But her cries grew softer as he neared the stony shore. Nicholas reached out a hand through the spray of seawater, noting the fear on Ivy’s face, seeing the movement of her lips, but now unable to hear her words amidst the water and flames. He stretched out his fingers as Ivy did the same, both desperately trying to reach the other, but the dark space separating them could not be breached. With what little strength he had left, Nicholas lunged forward to save her, knowing he couldn’t fail. But in the next instant she was gone. His arms wrapped around a black void as he stumbled. He felt himself falling into the sea, slowly drowning yet still alive. His lungs ached, his throat tightened and his heart broke as he tried to swim to the surface. Yet he couldn’t reach the cool night air, believing he would suffer this unbearable fate between life and death until the end of his days.
Nicholas opened his eyes. A fleet of milky gray clouds stared back at him in the pale morning light as a cool breeze softly touched his face. He took a deep breath as remnants of sleep swam in his tired head, realizing where he was as the echo of Ivy’s voice faded in his mind. For a moment, he was relieved that she was not suffering the torment along the grasslands, but then his heart grew heavy. He was painfully aware that Ivy
was no longer at his side as the river, and the sterile landscape just beyond, flowed past in somber silence.
“While you dozed, Nicholas, we entered the Gray River,” a voice spoke in the wintry air. “The Lorren is finally behind us. We’re making directly for the Northern Mountains whose majestic peaks grace the horizon.” Brin Mota’s words were filled with reverent awe. He stood near the back of the pine tree-length raft gazing southward, a thin smile upon his whiskered face as the breeze played though a mop of dark hair. He wore a long, brown coat with the collar raised to protect his neck from the biting chill. A sword hung lifelessly at his side. “I’ve never looked upon the snow-covered tips of one of Laparia’s grandest mountain ranges, though I’ve often imagined what they must look like while studying old maps in the Northern Isles.”
“You must miss your home,” Nicholas remarked. “Maybe you should go back.” He sat against a wooden barrel filled with salted mackerel, his hands tied behind him and another rope binding him to the barrel. A line of other barrels and crates filled with dried food supplies and various brews extended like a small mountain range along the center from one end of the raft to the other, covered with canvas tarps and secured with additional rope.
Brin smirked, turning to his prisoner. “Perhaps one day I will. First I plan to make a name for myself in these mountains, especially in the chambers of Mount Minakaris. Vellan will be pleased that I–”
Nicholas laughed scornfully, anticipating his captor’s line of thought. Brin scowled at his prisoner. Two other men, one on either side of the wide raft and separated by the line of barrels and crates, walked silently in unison toward the front of the log vessel. They propelled the raft steadily upstream, each pushing against a long wooden pole behind them whose opposite end was pressed into the river’s bottom. Nicholas waited until the two men had passed by before he again spoke.
“Brin, do you really think that Vellan is going to reward you–someone he has never met nor even heard of–just because you claim you’re delivering the princess of Morrenwood to him?”
“I’m also delivering King Justin’s spy,” he replied, squatting down on one knee. “Actually, I think that you might be the better prize for Vellan. He’ll be able to extract more information from you than from the girl.” Brin raised an eyebrow with ominous intention. “Either by magic or through other means, Vellan will get you to reveal much about King Justin’s military designs.”
Nicholas shrugged. “You’re delusional. But believe what you want. When Vellan discovers that I’m no spy and that Ivy is not Princess Megan, you’re the one who’ll face the consequences. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Brin grunted and stood up. “I’d never say that because you tediously warn me every single day. Feel free to stop.”
Nicholas rested his head against the barrel and kept quiet, not in the mood to verbally spar with Brin as he had done so to varying degrees for the past ten days. As he strolled away, Nicholas’ thoughts again turned to Ivy as they did during most of his waking hours. Three times she had been taken from him–first when kidnapped on the streets of Boros, the second time along the shore of the Trillium Sea, and lastly, three days ago. Whenever he replayed those terrible moments in his mind it felt as if his heart were being ripped from his chest until despair or mental exhaustion overwhelmed him. When he recovered, Nicholas couldn’t help but repeat the pattern as Ivy was foremost on his mind.
The two steersmen walked to the back of the vessel again and planted the wooden poles into the river to continue the process of propelling the craft upriver. As it floated along vast stretches of browning grassland and scrub brush, Nicholas’ thoughts meandered back eleven days ago, the last happy moment he could remember. He had been sitting sleepily against a tree with Ivy in his arms, both admitting how tired they were after enduring the horrific events on the Bretic and Karg Island despite a brief recovery in Illingboc. After having drifted off to sleep, they awoke the following day as prisoners on this raft. They soon learned the terrible truth from Brin Mota–that he had drugged them and transported them to the last waiting raft on the Lorren River that was heading to Kargoth. Brin’s cousin, Cale, had convinced the Island soldiers on the raft to wait for Brin’s arrival and his special cargo for Vellan.
Yet despite their protestations, neither Nicholas nor Ivy could convince their captor that they were not a spy and a princess. Brin’s discovery of the royal pendant around Ivy’s neck, coupled with Nicholas’ involvement with Arteen and his associates, had left him no doubts that he had captured two useful prizes for Vellan. He hoped to advance his career to more dizzying heights than he could ever attain as a mere cog in the military machine of the Northern Isles.
A wintry chill gripped the morning as the sun remained hidden behind a layer of clouds. The distant Northern Mountains stood out like a line of sentries, silent and foreboding. They had been traveling up the Lorren River for ten days, the last few providing a barren and lonely landscape ever since the raft had drifted past the Dunn Hills to the west and the Cashua Forest to the east. How Nicholas missed the green maze of the Cashua despite getting lost inside with Leo. But the passing of recent days had been a blur to him. He tried to guess where Leo and Hobin were right now, hoping that his friends would reach Morrenwood with the key, unaware that Leo had already opened the Spirit Box twelve days ago at dawn.
As the two steersmen passed by on their next circuit, Nicholas recalled how Ivy had been taken from his side three days ago. Twice each day during their travels, Brin would direct the raft to shore and anchor it for a brief meal and a rest. Each evening they would return and make camp for the night. Nicholas was always contemplating a way to escape while he and Ivy were on Brin’s floating prison. Whenever they stepped ashore, however, his ideas to secure their freedom would especially take flight despite the watchful eyes of Brin Mota, his cousin and the other four crew members.
Four days ago at twilight they had made camp upon the western bank amid a swirl of bitter snow. Fires were lit and meals were kept brief. All but two watchmen turned in for the night. When darkness encompassed the land, Nicholas freed himself by cutting his bonds with a sharp stone he had pocketed earlier. He stealthily made his way to where Ivy lay. Two crewmen kept watch by a low fire nearby. Everyone else appeared sound asleep. After Nicholas freed her, they made for a patch of scrub brush to the north. But their first taste of liberty was short-lived when Brin discovered their absence and called the alarm. Sleep, as on most nights for Brin of late, was a scarce commodity. Though his eyes had been closed, his ears were sharp and his mind was still spinning plans. Nicholas and Ivy were quickly tracked down and apprehended. Brin guarded them himself until the first light of dawn stretched across the eastern horizon.
“So you’d rather escape into this cold and desolate region,” Brin addressed them the following day, “facing hunger and possibly even death, than to remain as my guest upon the river?”
“What do you think?” Nicholas muttered, glaring at him while sitting next to Ivy, their hands tied behind their backs.
“I’ll have to double my guard. Clearly you cannot be trusted.”
The next day, Nicholas and Ivy’s already fractured world tumbled down upon them with the arrival of three men on horseback who slowly made their way downriver along the eastern bank. Brin spotted them at once, and from their attire knew they were fellow Islanders, no doubt on patrol. He ordered the raft to shore to meet with the trio who had stopped upon the grassy bank and dismounted. Brin introduced himself as the assistant captain of the naval ship Bretic, neglecting to tell them that it had been destroyed in a massive conflagration.
“You are far from Del Norác,” Brin said as the tired men greeted him, eyeing the mountain of supplies secured to the raft. “I didn’t think there were Island outposts this far outside the Northern Mountains. You must have offended someone to get such a dreary post,” he joked.
“Ours is the farthest post outside of Kargoth,” replied the oldest of the trio who was a
pparently in charge. “But now that winter is here and the rafts from Karg Island have stopped, we’ll be moving deeper into the mountains. In the meantime, we would happily take a sack of biscuits and a slab or two of bacon back to our camp if you are so inclined. I’m sure Vellan wouldn’t miss such triflings from our Island tribute to him.”
A look of disappointment crossed Brin’s face, causing the man to fear that his request may have been inappropriate. He quickly smiled, putting the trio at ease.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he replied, signaling to his cousin who was watching from the raft. “Cale, join us.”
As Cale jumped off the raft onto the grassy bank, Nicholas and Ivy glanced at one another with mounting suspicion. Neither was comfortable with the scene playing out before them.
“How many are in your company?” Brin asked after Cale had arrived and was introduced.
“Nearly thirty. Half have already packed up and are making their way to other locations. Though we still patrol the mountains, our work here on the outer edge of these lands is done for the year.” The soldier again glanced at the raft, eyeing Nicholas and Ivy who, by their dress, were clearly not from the Northern Isles. “I was surprised to see you poling up the river this morning, believing the last of our vessels had already sailed past.”