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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “Luckily for all of us,” Tradell remarked before telling Max how the Enâri army had also met its demise in and around Kargoth. “It will help us greatly not having to deal with that mindless horde.”

  “One of them wasn’t so mindless,” Nicholas said, reminding him of Jagga’s attempt to save himself by stealing the key and having it melted down. “His bit of thievery may hasten an end to this war.”

  “But you told us he killed someone to get the key,” Tradell said. “Still, I see your point. Vellan’s numbers have diminished and cannot be supplemented any time soon now that winter has set in. We must launch our campaign at the first sign of spring before more Islanders start poling up the Lorren River again.”

  “Do you intend to attack Vellan’s stronghold in Del Norác?” Nicholas asked.

  “Close,” Malek said over the rising steam from his mug. “We’ll attack his prisons.”

  “Oh,” Nicholas said. “You mean Deshla.”

  Nicholas was told about the large prison that the Enâri had constructed in the base of Mount Minakaris. Deshla was situated about a mile west around the mountain from Vellan’s stronghold. Malek estimated from stories floating about the region that at least a thousand men from Surna, Linden and Harlow, or perhaps even more, had been locked up in Deshla over the past few years as Vellan grew more bold in his reach. And while men from the Northern Isles ran the prison itself, a large contingent of Enâri troops had been stationed less than a quarter mile away in a garrison alongside the Drusala River.

  “That hive of Enâri creatures always gave us pause to launch a raid,” Malek admitted, “though I and the leaders from other camps continued planning for a strike. This coming spring was our target date. And now that the nearby garrison is empty, or at worst, lightly occupied by Island soldiers, its threat has been greatly diminished.”

  “An opportune moment,” Nicholas said.

  “Exactly, and one which I intend to take.” Malek stood and walked to the fireplace, grabbing a few pieces of wood to stoke the fading flames. “Though Vellan may reinforce the number of guards at the prison now that his Enâri protectors are gone, he might also do the opposite.” He noted the confusion on Nicholas’ face. “Vellan has other places throughout Kargoth he probably needs secured–key villages, food stores, armories and the like–but now that his creatures have been eliminated, many of those places stand unprotected. He’ll have to spread out his remaining forces to keep them out of rebel hands. So if ever there was a time to storm Deshla…”

  “I see your point,” Nicholas said, anticipating a journey to Del Norác to find Ivy. And though he guessed that she would be taken directly to Vellan, assuming that Cale and the others could actually find him, he suddenly latched onto the horrible notion that Ivy might be languishing inside a prison cell in Deshla. His heart raced at the dark thought as the others talked among themselves. “Couldn’t you plan this raid during winter?” he asked as Malek returned to the table and sat down opposite Nicholas, locking gazes with him.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said sympathetically, “but Ivy could be anywhere in Kargoth. There are other prisons besides Deshla, including those in Vellan’s bastion at the foot of Mount Minakaris. I can’t risk sending my men on a grueling and likely futile march through treacherous mountain paths in winter on a slim hope, Nicholas.” Malek’s tone was firm yet gentle. He knew that the man across the table would never stop thinking of a way to rescue the woman he loved, nor did he expect him to.

  “I know,” Nicholas replied in a voice barely above a whisper, lowering his eyes and staring at the tabletop. “Still, I had to ask.”

  “But it’s not just Malek’s decision that’s stopping you from getting your way,” Tradell added. “The raid on Deshla will be a combined operation composed of men from dozens of camps in the region north of Del Norác. But before we launch, the camps must combine. In the coming weeks we’ll make our way southward along with other camps and integrate our troops and resources. The spoils from Brin’s raft will go a long way in that goal.”

  “So you’ll have plenty to do, Nicholas, to keep both mind and body occupied while waiting for your chance to hunt down Ivy’s captors,” Malek said. “Come springtime, you’ll have the resources of an army at your side.”

  “I guess I can’t ask for anything more,” he said, forcing a grateful smile despite his heavy heart. “How far south will we move this winter?”

  “We have a designated meeting area in the north end of the Champeko Forest just past Mount Lundy. That’s more than half the distance to Mount Minakaris from here. All of our forces to the north will make for that spot over winter,” Malek said. “Once there, we’ll begin our final trek to Deshla when the weather turns warmer. Expect three long marches–and lots of sled pulling–throughout the rest of winter to get to Champeko. Needless to say, you will not be bored.”

  Nicholas chuckled. “I had no worries about that. But if I do get bored, I can always talk to Max,” he added, glancing at his new acquaintance. “You said you wanted to hear more about my journey from home, and I have no shortage of stories to tell.”

  “And I’ll take you up on your offer,” Max replied, “but that’ll have to wait until I return from my next journey.”

  “Next journey?” Malek inquired. “Where are you off to now?”

  “Well, with all this interesting talk about Deshla prison and the Enâri creatures–or what’s left of them–I never got to finish my story,” he said, noisily sliding his chair back so he could fold his arms and stretch his legs. “I have to do a bit of scouting up near Thendara Wood, or perhaps more accurately, a bit of waiting. I won’t be gone too long, but I’m not yet leaving for a few days.”

  “Who are you waiting for?” Tradell asked.

  “I’m waiting for information from Morrenwood,” he replied. “After I spoke with Prince Gregory, he took me aside for a private conversation. Apparently there’s going to be another war council in the Blue Citadel.” The others were surprised yet appeared pleased with the announcement, anticipating a future attack on Del Norác by the King’s forces. “While the prince was in Montavia, he received a correspondence from his father containing details about the council. King Justin plans to host this meeting on, now wait a moment…” Max again consulted his notched board to the amused delight of the others. “On the twenty-sixth day of New Winter.”

  “That’s six days from today,” Malek said. “Had I known earlier, I might have gone myself. Despite the greater distance, the journey from here to Morrenwood in wintertime is far easier than the treacherous maze to Kargoth through the unforgiving mountains.”

  “Yet a dreary journey as Nicholas can attest to. Nothing for miles around in places,” Max said. “But you needn’t fret over not attending the second council. From what Prince Gregory told me, it will be a simpler affair and sparsely attended. It seems that everyone invited already agrees that Vellan must be confronted once and for all, and after the victories in Rhiál and Montavia, the will to act is there. This meeting will emphasize planning rather than debating.”

  Malek grinned. “I had heard details of that last boisterous affair, but the handful of dissenters eventually came to their senses.”

  “My friends and I arrived at the Citadel just after the first council had concluded,” Nicholas said, recalling the hubbub in the corridors. “From what I saw and heard, I’m certain that King Justin would have led an assault on both Drogin and Caldurian without any allies if it had come to that. He knew he had no choice as Vellan undoubtedly eyed Arrondale as his top prize–and still does.”

  “I look forward to bringing the fight to his doorstep,” Max said, “starting with our raid on Deshla. But we should coordinate our plans with King Justin. Prince Gregory promised to send an informant to meet me on the western edge of Thendara Wood as soon as this war council is concluded. He expects it to be a short affair.”

  “When will you get back?” Malek inquired. “No doubt we’ll already have moved so
uth by then to our next location.”

  “I’ll find you,” he said without concern. “I’m familiar with the paths you plan to follow. Give me a few days to rest and resupply, then I shall leave. Expect me back by–wait, I can do this one in my head.” Max craned his neck back, the gears in his mind turning. “I’ll probably return in one and a half weeks time, more or less, if I leave here three days from today. That should give me a nice respite as even I need a holiday off the road from time to time.” He shot a mirthful glance at Nicholas. “But only a short holiday, mind you. I get easily bored sitting around plotting and planning. I leave those duties to Malek and Tradell who have a bit more patience than I do.”

  “Would you like company on the road?” Nicholas asked. The urge to travel again stirred within him after having endured days of tedium while on Brin’s raft and foregoing the trip up Kaddis Creek with Sala and the others.

  “Your offer’s much appreciated,” Max said, “but I like to work alone, thank you. No offense intended.”

  “None taken,” he replied.

  “Anyway, you’ve had plenty of adventure lately. A little staying in place for a while might be a good thing,” he advised. “And to be truthful, I’ve found that I do my job much better and faster when I do it my way. More times than not, offers to help lessen my workload–no matter how well-intentioned–just end up making more work for me, if you understand.”

  “I do,” Nicholas said, thinking how much Max’s personality reminded him of Hobin. Both men were set in their ways in the best sense and nobody would ever change that. He then thought of Emma, Hobin’s one true love from the past. Maybe there was somebody who could shake him from his fixed ways, he quickly reconsidered, though that was yet to be seen.

  “Besides, I won’t be alone. I’ll have Graylocks for company,” Max continued, describing a horse that Prince Gregory had given him after their last meeting. “I left him with one of the sentries to drink at the stream.” He looked askance at Malek. “You didn’t find a barrel of carrots on that raft, did you? Or apples perhaps? Oh, Graylocks would surely be in your debt if you did.”

  CHAPTER 90

  A Vast and Mighty Herd

  On a gray, bitter morning three days later, Max quietly left camp. He headed northeast to Thendara Wood while most of the men were still asleep. Nicholas had hoped to talk with him at breakfast, but Malek said that leaving unannounced was simply Max’s way.

  “I stopped expecting a proper farewell from Maximilian years ago after he left on a month-long campaign several summers back,” he said. “But when you least expect it, he’ll reappear through the trees or along a riverbank with a treasure trove of information–and usually a compelling story or two. He’s very good at what he does, so I leave him alone and let him do it. Our cause is in his debt.”

  Max’s departure was forgotten in the commotion the next day. A dozen men with empty sleds arrived from another camp two day’s march to the south, having received word from one of Malek’s scouts of the haul of goods from the raft. The new arrivals were happy to see the additional provisions as their own supplies were dwindling and not likely to be replenished much, if at all, during the winter months.

  “We’ll load you up and you can depart tomorrow,” Malek said. “But you’ll have company. Our camp is ready to move on its first leg south to the Champeko Forest.”

  “As are we,” said one of the men. “When we arrive at our camp, we’ll rest a day before heading to the first gathering place near Petaras Peak. No doubt, others are already congregating there.”

  “How far is that?” Nicholas asked, eager to leave.

  “Several days of marching,” Malek informed him. “Possibly longer depending on the depth of snow and the weather, but nowhere near as far as Max had to travel.”

  “Still, he had a horse,” Nicholas quipped as they made for the cabin to provide the men a hot meal after their journey.

  All that day they loaded up the sleds with provisions from the raft and items from camp that would be needed. The tents would be disassembled the next morning and packed away last of all. Malek hoped for an early start, though a trace of melancholy gripped him as he stood near a towering pine and looked upon the snow-covered cabin. Smoke spiraled from its chimney as a hint of purple twilight splashed through the trees and blanketed the frozen ground.

  “We’ll never look upon this place again,” he said to Nicholas. “Come springtime, we will either defeat Vellan and return home to our respective countries or die in the attempt. This place, which has been a second home, will only know the slow decay of time.”

  “Perhaps some lost travelers will find it one day,” Nicholas suggested, noting the sadness in Malek’s eyes.

  “Anything is possible,” he said, shaking off his glum thoughts. “Still, once I get home and see my wife and daughters again, this camp will be the last thing on my mind.”

  “I hope that day comes soon,” Nicholas replied. “For us all.”

  After they loaded the sleds and secured the goods with tarps and ropes, everyone gathered around the cabin for a final celebration. Amid laughter, storytelling and the aroma of roasted venison, a deep and contemplative darkness gradually encroached. Warm, yellow light poured from the cabin windows and the open doorway, serving as a gentle beacon beneath the cloudy, moonless night. Nicholas sat on a low pile of wood near the front of the building, conversing with one of the visiting campers. As he stood to get a second helping of ale, he heard a familiar voice through the trees.

  “What’s the occasion?” Sala called out as he and four others approached the cabin. “And why weren’t we invited?”

  “Look who’s back!” Nicholas said, greeting his friend with a handshake.

  “We planned to save you some cold leftovers,” Tradell joked as he emerged through the crowd. He noted that only five of the six men had returned from Kaddis Creek. With a furrowed brow, he took Sala, Nicholas and the others aside, inquiring as to the whereabouts of Brezzan, their prisoner.

  “Not to worry,” Sala replied. “He proved to be a fine worker and asked to join the other camp. They were happy to have him.”

  “Why?” Tradell asked.

  “He wants to start a new life away from the Islands–a free life–just like Nicholas’ friend, Arteen. Brezzan thought it best to disassociate himself with Dunnic in order to do that,” he explained. “I couldn’t have agreed more.”

  “Nor could I,” Nicholas said, having heard and witnessed much about life on the Northern Isles that stifled a man’s spirit and freedom. “Brezzan will be better off living anywhere else in Laparia compared to that place.”

  “And we’ll have one less prisoner to worry about,” Malek said as he walked up and joined the group, having overheard the last few remarks. “I think he made the right choice, too. Now I suppose, Sala, that you and your men are hungry.”

  “Famished.”

  “Then just one more piece of business before you eat. You can fill me in on the other details later,” he said. “Shall I assume that our neighboring camp has the remainder of the goods and that the raft has been put out of commission?”

  “Yes to both. We cut the ropes binding the raft and let the pieces flow back down Kaddis Creek,” Sala said with a frown. “Too bad though. It was a nice craft.”

  “But it’s much safer for us to travel unexposed, even in the dead of winter,” Tradell said. “No sense in taking a chance, however slim, that the raft would fall back into the hands of some Islanders. It has served its purpose.”

  “True,” Sala remarked, before breaking out in a grin. “Now more importantly, what’s for dinner? Not to boast, but we have far better cooks here than they do upstream. And frankly, I am due a good meal.” He raised his head, sniffing the aroma dancing upon the winter air and frowned. “Venison? Again?”

  They departed the next day after sunrise. Through breaks in the clouds, intermittent stabs of sunshine shot through snow-covered tree branches like swords of golden light. Sala took it as a si
gn of good fortune and smiled at the brilliant display so rare this time of year. But his smile faded when he looked back at the cabin, now dark and still, its windows shuttered and the chimney uncharacteristically cold and smokeless.

  “First the raft and now the cabin,” he muttered while stepping into the loop of rope attached to his sled and lying on the snow like a sleeping snake. Affixed to the center portion of the rope was a bundle of padding which he lifted to his chest, preparing to trudge forward. “Things are changing fast, Nicholas.”

  “Don’t fret. In about two days you’ll have a new place to call home.” He stood in back of Sala’s sled, ready to push from behind. “At least until we leave there and head for Petaras Peak. But you’ll be okay. We all will.”

  “I hope so.” But before Sala could put his next thought into words, Malek’s voice crackled in the cold, bright morning.

  “Onward, men!” he shouted with steady confidence. “And watch your footing. I want you all to arrive in one piece.”

  “So do I,” Sala lightly remarked as he pulled the rope taut.

  In unison, nearly thirty flat sleds scattered across the snowy terrain set forth like a herd of lumbering bison, moving south through the trees until they funneled into a handful of well established paths. Sharply defined sun rays cut through the clouds in the southeast and down through the treetops, causing the men to squint or shade their eyes when they passed into the light. As Malek marched forward, he noticed that Dunnic was pulling a sled farther ahead in the adjacent line to his right with another man helping to push from behind. Rollin, the archer who had helped capture Brin’s raft, walked alongside the sled to keep a constant eye on the Island prisoner.