“I wish I had an answer,” he said, shifting in his seat. “That’s where my story and Leo’s diverge, and my encounter with Brin Mota begins.”
After pausing to refresh themselves with some food from the other table and more hot tea, Nicholas continued with the next chapter of his adventure. All listened without interruption as he told them of his meeting with Arch Boland and Arteen, his first encounter with Brin Mota and the ensuing conflagration on the Bretic, and Ivy’s rescue on Karg Island and the death of Tarosius Lok. Nicholas fondly recalled dancing with Ivy a few days later in Illingboc, thinking then that his life had finally taken a turn for the good.
“Little did I know that Brin was yet lurking out there, still convinced that Ivy was a princess and that I was a spy.” He glumly related how he and Ivy had been drugged and then awakened as prisoners on Brin’s raft before she was taken from his side and sent on ahead to Vellan. Nicholas leaned back in his chair and sighed, appearing tired and grim as if the stress of the last several days had suddenly caught up with him. “Now, Malek, you know everything about me since I left home. Judge me as you see fit, and if you deem me not an enemy, then I’d ask you to release me so I can go to Kargoth. But if you deem me a friend, perhaps you might provide me with supplies and the company of a few men to guide and assist me. In any case, it’s in your hands.”
He gazed at the trio of men, looking for any subtle clues as to their decision. When he saw Malek and Tradell glance at each other in a jovial manner before exchanging a few whispers, he couldn’t tell if they had taken his plea seriously and was visibly disappointed. Sala, too, seemed light of mood, confusing Nicholas even further.
“Nicholas is wondering if we deem him a friend or not,” Malek said, addressing Sala and Tradell as he stood and walked around the room. He wore a boyish grin as if privy to some secret. His camp mates were also in good spirits, anticipating what Malek was about to say. “Do either of you care to comment?”
“Oh, friend indeed,” Tradell replied, receiving a slight nod of mystified thanks from Nicholas. “Though I suspect he is at a loss as to why.”
“My thinking, too,” added Sala with a good-natured smirk.
“Agreed.” Malek took his seat and looked at Nicholas. “It’s unanimous. The three of us find you a worthy addition to our camp, as I’m sure the others will once they hear your story. And if anyone has earned some help to get to Kargoth, it is certainly you,” he said, eliciting a cautious yet hopeful smile from Nicholas. “But first there’s something I need to tell you now, something I apparently have the honor of telling you by the good fortune of our meeting.” Malek still exhibited a cheerfulness that Nicholas could not fathom.
“Tell me what?” he asked, his mood lightening and his smile growing though he didn’t know why. “It’s apparent that you’ve just learned a bit of good news, yet I cannot explain when you received it as you’ve been sitting here with me all this time.”
“Half true,” Malek said. “I received this good news about eight days ago, though only moments ago did my friends and I learn of its origins, all thanks to you.”
“To me?” Nicholas crossed his arms and tilted his head in a slightly bewildered manner. “I don’t understand.”
“Tell him already!” Sala excitedly said. “If anyone deserves to know, he does.”
“Tell me what?” Nicholas asked.
Malek leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table and his hands clasped together as he offered Nicholas a congratulatory smile. “Sala wants me to tell you that your plan succeeded. The long trip through the Dunn Hills with Leo and Hobin was worth the sacrifice.”
“But I already told you that the key was remade,” Nicholas said, not grasping the intent of Malek’s statement. “Frist successfully forged the medallion back into his original creation with the magic still intact.”
“Which Leo apparently brought back to Morrenwood for its intended purpose.”
“Well, I hope he and Hobin make it back to the capital and…” Nicholas paused as Malek and the others stared at him with amused wonder as if he didn’t comprehend the punchline of a joke. Suddenly he felt a chill run up his back. “Am I hearing you correctly? Our plan–succeeded? Do you mean to say that Leo–”
“–used the key to open the Spirit Box?” Malek sat back and nodded, a satisfied grin upon his face. “Indeed he did, or at least somebody did. Of that we are now certain.”
Nicholas was struck silent. “How do you know this?” he finally asked, his voice nearly a whisper, his eyes wide in disbelief.
“As I alluded to earlier, I received some good news eight days ago,” he said. “A scout from another camp miles to our south sought us out with information he’d received two days before. Word is traveling like wildfire from Kargoth and the other nations in the Northern Mountains that the Enâri race is no more.”
“The Enâri have been literally wiped off the face of Laparia!” Sala excitedly interjected. “Their dusty remains were scattered to the wind near the break of dawn fourteen days ago, so we were told. All of them were destroyed according to the many stories circulating. Whether referring to the thousands upon thousands of Enâri residing in Del Norác itself or those scattered among the villages up and down the Drusala River, it appears that every last one of them suffered the same fate. All of them–gone!” He clapped his hands with a stinging crack. “Even the Enâri forces that occupied parts of Surna, Linden and Harlow were annihilated as well as those patrolling throughout the mountain valleys. And I say good riddance! Let them go back to the dirt and rock from which they came through Vellan’s twisted craft. I’ll sleep much easier now.”
“The only sad thing,” Tradell added, “is that Vellan didn’t suffer the same fate. Still, we should be pleased with the luck we’ve been given.”
“Nicholas’ trek to Wolf Lake was more than just luck,” Malek said, “and the men, women and children of our three mountain nations owe him and his companions a debt of gratitude. The elimination of the Enâri race puts us years ahead in our fight against Kargoth. It’s a major turning point.”
As Nicholas listened to the heady words swirling around him, he still couldn’t fully believe what he was hearing and held up a hand to pose a question. Malek observed the bewilderment on his face and beckoned him to fire away.
“This happened fourteen days ago?” he asked, performing a mental calculation. “That would have made it, uh…” He grinned sheepishly. “I seemed to have lost track of days while on the river.”
“Who wouldn’t have?” Malek said with understanding. “But I can help you out. The Enâri met their demise at dawn on the second day of New Winter. Today is the sixteenth day of the month. When did you and Leo depart from Morrenwood?”
“That I remember clearly,” he said, recalling the cold night when Nedry escorted them through a minor back gate of the Blue Citadel to their horses and supplies as the Edelin River flowed nearby along a fragrant stretch of pine. How long ago it seemed, as if part of another life. “We left before midnight on the thirteenth day of Mid Autumn. It took us about three weeks to find the wizard Frist, which included getting lost in the woods before we had hired our guide. That would have brought us to, let’s see, the eleventh day of Old Autumn, if I’m figuring correctly. I parted with Leo and Hobin–and the key–two days later, though it seems like a year ago,” he wearily admitted. “So if the Enâri were destroyed on the second day of New Winter, then Leo and Hobin had about two weeks to get the key back to Morrenwood.” Nicholas yawned, recalling the tiresome parts of his journey. “Only now am I beginning to feel the weight of my travels. I could sleep for a week if you’d allow it.”
“At the very least you’ve earned one good night’s sleep tonight,” Malek said. “Though when word spreads through camp of your accomplishment, I can’t promise you much rest after that. The men will be eager to hear of your adventure. It has been such a long struggle for all of us, and to finally hear some good news will be intoxicating. Many have not seen their fa
milies in months since we have taken up the fight against Vellan. The sun lilies were just blooming in Mid Summer the last time that I saw my wife and twin daughters.” He smiled wistfully, recalling the two weeks he had spent with them after returning home to Surna for that all-too-brief visit.
“How old are your girls?” Nicholas asked, seeing the longing for his family clearly upon Malek’s face.
“Teal and Rosa were born on the first day of New Summer four years ago,” he said. “I had hoped to see them again before winter set in, but all of us here were fully occupied in the fight. I fear I shall not see my family until spring arrives, if even then.”
“Perhaps we will order you home,” Tradell remarked lightly, “whether our fight with Vellan is finished or not. But fear not, Malek. The political winds are shifting. Spring may bring us more gains if we can just hold on a little bit longer.”
“I know,” he quietly responded.
Nicholas noted a peculiar tone in Tradell’s voice as if he knew more than he was letting on. “You say the political winds are shifting? What do you mean by that?”
Tradell glanced at Malek as he silently inquired if they should impart more information to their guest. Malek considered the situation for a moment while taking a slow sip of his drink.
“We have many other things to discuss with you, Nicholas, assuming that you’ll stay and join our fight,” Malek said. “We know you’re anxious to get to Del Norác, hoping you’ll find Ivy, but–”
“She’s there!” he vigorously chimed in, dismissing the imagined implication that she might not be or that his search for Ivy would have no chance of succeeding from the outset. “She has to be,” he added in a softer tone that bordered on hopelessness. But when seeing nothing but compassion in all the eyes upon him, Nicholas sighed with regret. “I’m sorry, Malek. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I guess I’m more tired than I realize.”
“Think nothing of it. All of us in camp have gotten on each other’s nerves over the months, usually out of sheer boredom. But what I wanted to say was that journeying alone to Kargoth might not be the wisest course right now as winter can be especially brutal in these mountains. You might not survive the trip. However,” he quickly added, seeing that Nicholas was about to voice another reservation, “we do have a shared destination in mind and would be more than willing to help you when the time is right.”
“And when would that be?” Nicholas asked, feeling all hope draining out of him.
“In all honesty, at the first sign of spring.” Malek observed a shadow of defeat upon Nicholas’ face, yet he fully empathized with him since he had felt the same longing and melancholy during the long separation from his own family. “Though we and others plan to move our camps deeper into the mountain valleys and closer to Kargoth as long as the heavy snows hold off, it will not be long before winter will rule with an iron fist. Cold and hunger would take you before you completed a third of your journey.”
“But I have to try!” Nicholas said, though realizing the logic of Malek’s words. He knew in his mind that Ivy’s voice and smile and touch would be lost to him in the cold void of winter for weeks to come. Yet his heart needed more convincing.
“It is well over a hundred miles to Vellan’s stronghold in Mount Minakaris,” Tradell explained, “and that is traveling along the straight path of a hawk. You would have snow-choked mountains and woods and valleys to traverse for many more miles than that. So to be blunt, if you truly love this woman, you shouldn’t throw your life away before you actually find her.”
Nicholas said nothing, knowing he had lost the argument. The others sensed his quiet resignation and knew that the next few days would be especially tough on him. Sala piped up, hoping to put a pleasant face on the situation.
“Look on the bright side, Nicholas. We’re already more than halfway through New Winter. Maybe the next two months will fly by too, or if we’re fortunate, we’ll be blessed with an early spring.” Nicholas merely raised his eyes and scowled, though for a moment his spirits were temporarily lifted by Sala’s determined enthusiasm. “It could happen.”
“We should be so lucky,” Malek replied. “Still, Nicholas, there is some good news I’d like to share before we let you have a proper meal and some sleep. There is something you should know now that your story is told. It’s about the war between Rhiál and Maranac which you referenced earlier.”
“You have news about King Justin’s army?” he asked, perking up.
“Very good news,” Malek said. “Less than two weeks ago we received word that the war between the two lakeside kingdoms had ended. The forces of Drogin were defeated thirty days ago. Drogin perished while trying to flee Zaracosa. Sadly, King Basil of Rhiál has succumbed to ill health as victory was upon them.”
Nicholas’ heart raced. “And King Justin? What of him?”
“He returned home in fine form after the successful campaign, as did King Cedric of Drumaya who had joined him in battle with our brethren from the Ebrean Forest. But we can discuss that later,” he said. “Tradell and I first need to check on our two prisoners. It’s now time for them to answer a few questions.”
“Please answer one more of mine first,” Nicholas pleaded as Princess Megan’s wellbeing weighed heavily on his mind. “Did you receive any news about Prince Gregory? He was to lead another army to Montavia to wrest that kingdom from Caldurian’s grip.”
Malek shook his head. “We have no word yet, though are awaiting information on that and other matters.” He stood and stretched, glad to be back at his temporary home. “I don’t know which has tired me more, my time in the wild or all this seemingly endless talk. Yet alas, both are necessary in these troubled days.” He turned to Tradell, about to say something before pausing, having suddenly changed his mind. “I think the prisoners can wait a little while longer, don’t you? Let’s join Nicholas for a hot meal in the adjoining area and enjoy a conversation about unimportant matters for a change, if only to clear my mind.”
“A great idea,” Tradell replied. “Besides, I don’t think I can face those Islanders on an empty stomach.”
“Me either,” he agreed, sniffing the air and smiling. “I smell venison stew, though it is not the feast you deserve, Nicholas, after all you’ve done for our three nations.”
“It’ll seem like a feast to me,” he said, “of which I’ll be honored to partake.”
“The honor is all ours,” Malek said, extending a hand and shaking his with gratitude. “Yours was a deed well done, my friend. A deed well done.”
CHAPTER 89
The Waiting Game
Nicholas awoke several hours before dawn to the smell of burning wood. He was lying on a straw-filled mattress in the cabin and noted the reflection of yellow and orange light upon a stack of split wood against the wall. The pungent scent reminded him of the Dunn Hills. He slowly sat up. The fireplace opening facing his section flickered with a low, steady flame. A wide bed of glowing embers beneath the crackling logs appeared as an ever-changing swirl of red, orange and black speckles, as if a thousand shifting eyes were silently watching him with curiosity and suspicion.
“Did I wake you?” a voice whispered in the gloom. Nicholas recognized Sala’s figure stooping over the fireplace and noted the cheerful edge to his voice despite the early hour. “I was putting more wood on the fire. I’m a light sleeper.”
“You didn’t wake me,” Nicholas softly replied, wrapping his blankets around him as a current of cold air drifted past.
“I’d stepped outside. It’s really coming down out there.”
Nicholas scrunched up his face as remnants of sleep enticingly tugged at him. “What is?”
Sala chuckled. “Snow, of course. Lots of it.” He added a few more sticks to the fire and fully revived it. “Good thing we rescued you when we did. I can only imagine how bad the weather is along the river right now.”
“Please imagine it quietly,” another voice gruffly mumbled in the darkness. “We’re trying to sleep, Sala.�
��
“Sorry,” he whispered, turning to Nicholas. “I’m going to get some leftover stew. Want some?”
Nicholas grinned in the darkness. “No thanks. I’m going back to bed,” he said, falling onto his mattress and burrowing into the blankets as Sala trudged away.
As Nicholas slowly drifted off, he imagined the snow piling up higher outside until the cabin was buried beneath a towering white mountain set among trees of green. Despite the occasional gust of wind whistling through cracks in the cabin walls and the gentle creaking of the towering pines, a part of him still regretted not going after Ivy. He wondered where she and her Island captors might be, whether still on their way to Del Norác, perhaps lost, or maybe even now in the presence of Vellan himself.
When he finally dozed off, he dreamed of a tall, snowcapped mountain looming ominously before him. He walked slowly in its shadow, desperately trying to reach the towering mass yet unable to make any progress despite his many steps. And though he had never been in this part of Laparia before nor had looked upon an image of that particular peak, in his dream Nicholas knew that he was gazing up at Mount Minakaris, where at the southern base near the waters of the Drusala River, Vellan had built his stronghold.
The snow was nearly boot-high early the following morning. It had stopped falling and was feathery in texture, so making walking paths through it proved easy. The pine boughs overhead had captured a good share of the snow, its crisp, white highlights running along the dark branches and dispelling the gloom left over from autumn’s last days. But Malek was happy to see the frosty white blanket upon the ground for another reason.
“Now we’ll have an easier time maneuvering the flat sleds,” he told Nicholas outdoors while inhaling the fresh air as the camp was waking up. “After breakfast, ten of us will hike to the raft with five sleds. We’ll need two men on each sled to bring them back loaded up. I’ll send another ten for the second trip after we return.”
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web (The Complete Epic Fantasy) Page 139