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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “At least we’re getting more work out of Dunnic today than simply having him pile firewood,” Malek commented to Tradell who was pushing his sled in back.

  “Seeing that he hasn’t paid even a measly copper half piece for his room and board, it’s the least he can do,” he said with a smirk.

  Malek glanced back as he marched through the snow, able to see Tradell bundled in his hooded coat from his shoulders up. “I had my doubts when Rollin told me that Dunnic volunteered to pull a sled rather than walk with his wrists bound.” He adjusted the padded rope across the front of his chest, breathing steadily. “Still, I’ll keep a close eye on him.”

  “As you should,” Tradell said. “Now less talking so you can conserve energy. I’ll take the reins after our first stop.”

  Malek chuckled. “I’m ten years younger than you, Tradell. You should be the one worrying about running out of fire. But I’ll shut my mouth for a while as I know how you like to think.”

  “It’s a challenge to plan for the uncertain days ahead with a full camp to supervise at the same time. My duties will multiply as the various units in this region converge and grow into a little army.”

  “All of us will have more work,” Malek said, “but I have total confidence in my men, including you. I wouldn’t have chosen you to help me administer this camp otherwise.”

  “Thank you, sir,” he replied. “I appreciate your trust.”

  “Same here,” Malek said, trudging steadily through the snow. “But as I’ve asked you before,” he said, glancing back, “please don’t address me as sir. You’re not part of the Linden military anymore.”

  Tradell shrugged. “Hard to break old habits.” As they moved silently ahead, he wondered what was left of his nation’s once modest, yet proud army from which he had fled after Vellan’s proxies in Linden had infiltrated and corrupted the institution. He sighed and put it out of his mind, concentrating on the myriad tasks before him.

  The sleds arrived at camp late the following day. There the residents were loading their possessions onto additional sleds to join in the trek to Petaras Peak in two more days. The weary travelers spent the remainder of that day and all the next resting from their grueling journey as more clouds moved in and the dreariness of winter returned. The camp, in a deep wooded area two miles east of the Gray River, wasn’t much different from Malek’s camp except that it had two central cabins among the field of tents necessitated by its larger population.

  But the following day in the gloomy hours after dawn, those permanent structures were also abandoned, left cold and lifeless as the growing herd of sleds, now numbering near fifty, departed southward. Because there were more men than needed to drive all the sleds, about two dozen individuals were free to walk along with the moving mass, trading places with the sled runners after each shift to afford everyone a proper and much appreciated period of rest.

  The next morning, on the first day of Mid Winter, Nicholas found himself paired with Malek as they maneuvered across a long, narrow clearing. As Nicholas pulled the sled, he was happy to see the open sky in the west in contrast to the wall of trees stooping over on his left like a line of spying giants. Off to his right loomed a distant mountain surrounded by a scattering of trees, its peak shrouded by a thick canopy of iron gray clouds.

  “By tomorrow, the eastern trees should start thinning out for several miles,” Malek said. “We should be able to see Petaras Peak far in the south if it’s not too cloudy.”

  “We’re that close?” Nicholas inquired with surprise.

  “Not quite,” he said as he pushed the vehicle forward, each determined footstep crunching down upon the smooth layer of snow left behind by the passing sled. “We’re still six or seven days away, I’d guess, depending on the weather.” The steady, almost hypnotic sound of sleds gliding across the wintry landscape cast a languorous calm over the brown, green and gray-hued lines of travelers slicing through the white blanket of snow. “Fedwin’s latest batch of goo seems to be working wonders. The sleds have never moved so well.”

  “Good thing he joined your group,” Nicholas said as he took a few deep breaths and readjusted the padded rope. “How long has he been here?”

  “Over a year,” he replied. “He had been with another camp but likes to move around to study the flora in different regions of the mountains. He got that opportunity with us. It’s the apothecary in him, I guess. Fedwin has helped several men through many illnesses with his various brews–and he makes the sleds run efficiently, too.”

  “How long have you been fighting in the wild?” Nicholas asked, delighted to engage in conversation to help pass the time.

  “Just over two years, which are two too many as far as my wife and daughters are concerned,” he replied with a heavy heart. “I’ve managed to get home on a few occasions to see them, but not often enough.”

  “That’s a hardship on all of you,” Nicholas said, his thoughts turning to Ivy, Maynard and so many others he cared about and had left behind. Yet unlike his own, he reasoned that vastly different emotions must be tugging at Malek since he had left home voluntarily and for a worthy cause instead of fleeing in the dark of night to save himself. Nicholas suddenly wished he had kept his questions private.

  “You and I are a lot alike,” Malek remarked.

  Nicholas was caught off guard. “How so?” he asked, curious to hear the answer as he was genuinely surprised by the comparison.

  “We both left our homes and loved ones for a greater cause. Granted, we departed under different circumstances, but both of us made sacrifices for something we believe in.”

  “But my mission for King Justin came about by chance. I didn’t leave my village with the intention of hiking through the Dunn Hills to search for a wizard.”

  “And protecting a princess,” he added. “Don’t forget that.”

  “I suppose. But even for all we’ve accomplished, you left on your own accord with the specific purpose to do what you’re doing.”

  “Pushing a sled full of blankets, stale biscuits and dried beef through the snow?” he joked.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, momentarily locking gazes with Nicholas as he glanced back. “You also did what you did in the end when you could have walked away and played it safe. That took courage and selflessness, and that’s what counts. All those other nagging details are irrelevant. In fact, I think you’ve accomplished more in the three or so months you’ve been on the road than I have over the last two years. The Enâri are no more thanks to you. Think of it. What greater achievement could you want?”

  Nicholas again looked back briefly. “Finding Ivy.”

  Malek nodded understandingly. “Just don’t sell your other accomplishments short. Supposedly far greater men than you would never have volunteered for what you and Leo did. Families across Laparia owe you their thanks.”

  As Nicholas let those words sink in, he allowed himself a moment to savor his victories and take pride in his deeds. Yet as Ivy’s wellbeing still lingered in the back of his mind, he wouldn’t let himself wallow in such a state for too long. He knew he had to keep things in perspective. Until she was safe, none of his other successes, no matter how significant, really mattered that much to him.

  “Tell me about your triumphs, Malek,” he said, happy to shift the focus back to his friend. “Surely after two years you and your men have much to be proud of.”

  Malek furrowed his brow, thinking deeply as the cold air pressed against his face and the sweet scent of pine lingered lightly in the air. A murder of crows squawked above the treetops to the east. “I’m proud that we stepped up to take the fight to Vellan, but to tell you the truth, our successes have been few and scattered. At times I’ve wondered if the sacrifice was worth the trouble and considered packing up and leaving Surna with my family altogether. Yet those moments were few, I’ll admit.”

  “Still, you had to have done some good. Your numbers aren’t insignificant.”<
br />
  He nodded. “We raided a few Island rafts from time to time when an opportunity presented itself as with Brin’s, so I suppose that must have put a minor dent in Vellan’s plans. And while teaming up with other camps, my men and I were involved in several skirmishes with both Enâri and Island soldiers, driving them away from a few farmsteads and villages here and there. But those actions were against small roving bands that we had the numbers to overwhelm. Most of the places where the Enâri have congregated in Kargoth and the surrounding nations, well–let’s just say that their numbers are insurmountable. Correction–were insurmountable. We never had the forces to directly take on such overwhelming opposition. Vellan created a vast army over the years and he easily replaced any of his creatures that had been killed or died naturally, if the word natural was ever applicable to that strange species.”

  “Now you have a chance to really take it to Vellan,” Nicholas said encouragingly. “The odds have moved closer to your favor.”

  “Thanks to you, though Vellan yet has the advantage. Still, we plan to hit him hard at Deshla once our camps in this region combine forces. That will be a victory worth savoring in light of all the awful tales I’ve heard about that place. After that–who knows? We may just march up to Vellan’s front door and give a little knock.”

  “It’ll be something to tell your wife and children about,” Nicholas said, stopping for a moment to drink from a water skin draped over his shoulder. “I’m parched.”

  Malek quenched his thirst from his own water skin as he watched the other sleds move across the landscape at varying speeds. He felt a mighty force gathering and hoped that they would make a real difference for once in the long and weary fight against the enemy.

  “You honestly thought of leaving your homeland for good?” Nicholas asked as he placed the water skin back over his shoulder and picked up the rope, trudging forward.

  “It had crossed my mind,” Malek admitted, straining to push the sled during those first few steps until they were gliding steadily across the snow again. “I did, however, move my family from our village in southern Surna to a less populated area in the north where the Enâri rarely made an appearance. My wife, children and I made the trip with several close friends before I enlisted with the mountain resistance. They live a simpler life, but hopefully we’ll all be able to move back home now that the Enâri have been annihilated. I don’t think even Vellan can quickly replace their vast numbers. In the meantime, we have our best chance ever to finish the job and regain our homes.”

  “And I’m happy to help,” Nicholas said. “I learned there was a heated discussion during the war council involving a representative for the citizens of Surna, Linden and Harlow. Apparently others had fled to the Ebrean Forest to start new lives because of the corruption that had befallen your governments. Do you know of them?”

  “Only a little as many had left several years before our resistance was formed,” Malek replied. “But they didn’t leave simply to start new lives and forever turn their backs on their homelands. They planned to grow their numbers and train for an eventual confrontation with Vellan. Recent reports we received about Rhiál’s victory over Drogin had mentioned the army from the Five Clearings. They had marched with King Cedric from Drumaya and were instrumental in bringing about Drogin’s defeat. I’m proud of my self-exiled brothers,” he said. “And if we’re fortunate, they’ll come back and aid us now that war is to be unleashed at winter’s end.”

  “If only they were with us now,” Nicholas said. “Imagine the look on Vellan’s face were we all to stand outside his stronghold.”

  “That would be a sight, but everyone must contribute to this fight as they see fit. It will take the actions and resources of many people spread across distant lands before this mess is settled,” he admitted. “And if that means some people hide and fight among the mountains while others nurture their strength inside a forest–or even if a very few trek through wild hills to find a wizard to remake a magic key–then so be it. We must accept help as it is freely given and do our best with what we’ve got,” Malek said, his words unadorned with emotion. “That said, however, a stable of horses right now would be a welcome addition!” he added with a cheerful laugh.

  The sun was imprisoned two days later behind thick clouds that dropped a steady snowfall between the mountain valleys. Soon the winds picked up and visibility along the trail had been all but eliminated. The men took refuge in a stretch of woods to the east and made a temporary home until the weather lifted. Tents were raised and fires built amid a whirlwind of snow. For the rest of that day and all of the next, the caravan was stopped dead in its tracks.

  The southward journey resumed late on the fifth day of Mid Winter. The first miles were slow and laborious as the wind-whipped snow had created banks and drifts that needed to be maneuvered through and around before the sleds could travel again at a steady clip. The travelers formed a marching line three men wide and trudged through the snow, clearing a path for almost two miles until they reached a point where the snow was low enough to move easily through. After a brief rest, everyone turned around and hiked back to the encampment, further packing down the snow. Only then did the sleds finally leave their woodland hideaway and pass along the newly created path in single file. When the last sled made it through, deep twilight had settled upon the land. The camp once again stopped for the night along the banks of a partially frozen creek.

  “And you wanted to go to Del Norác on your own,” Sala remarked to Nicholas as they sat by a fire enjoying a meal of tea, biscuits and bacon. “We weren’t exaggerating when we said that the mountain weather shows mercy to no one.”

  “Now I understand,” he said as he dipped a biscuit into his tea before taking a bite. “But I still don’t have to like it.”

  They continued on the next day, tired and glum, but made much progress despite the lingering snow flurries and a thin but persistent breeze. All were bundled up with hoods and scarves, wishing to be back at camp and feeling as if the coming spring was simply a delusion in their frozen minds. This monotonous routine continued for three more days. Early the following morning, five days after abandoning their shelter in the woods, the weather gradually cleared. The peaks of distant mountains were again visible, standing majestically against intermittent patches of blue sky and vibrant streaks of sunlight. Though the air still contained a biting chill, the men’s spirits lifted considerably, especially upon seeing the tip of Petaras Peak to the southeast.

  “We veered too far to the west,” Malek informed Tradell as they paused to gauge their path ahead. “But not terribly so. We should reach the meeting grounds sometime before sunset. Everyone can then rest for a week or so before we begin the next leg of our trip. There’ll be much planning to do in the meantime and consulting with the other leaders already encamped there.”

  “Finally something constructive for me to do,” he remarked. “This endless sled pushing will be the death of me.”

  “They get lighter with each meal we consume,” Malek said.

  Tradell grunted. “Not if you’re hauling crates of daggers and bundles of spare Island uniforms.” They soon rejoined the caravan, cheered greatly by the relatively bright morning and the sight of Petaras Peak looming ever closer.

  The morning hours passed swiftly. When noontime rolled around, a tattered fleet of clouds passed low overhead and cast flickering shadows upon the snow. After lunch, Nicholas was again teamed up with Malek, this time pushing the sled from behind.

  “Seems lighter today. Did we luck out and get a haul of feather pillows and biscuits?” he joked.

  “Maybe you’re just getting used to all the exercise,” Malek replied. “You could probably pull the sled yourself.”

  “Don’t let him put any such idea in your head!” a voice humorously called out to Nicholas from behind. Soon Rollin was briskly walking alongside the sled and smiling.

  “Who’s watching the prisoner?” Malek asked.

  “Sala has taken over
for the time being,” he replied, pointing to a group of sleds weaving among some scattered pine trees to his right. “Sala was bored, and as I was tired of looking at Dunnic, or more precisely, listening to Dunnic, I happily traded the rest of my shift with him. Dunnic does go on a bit about the defeat that awaits us if we attempt to confront Vellan. Tedious drivel. I’ll be glad when we arrive and can store him away somewhere more secure.”

  “We should have left him on the raft without a pole and let the currents take him back to the Trillium Sea,” Nicholas suggested.

  “Too late for that,” Malek said. “Still, an inspired solution.”

  “Is there anything I can get for you men before I continue my rounds?” Rollin playfully asked, his boots leaving a line of regularly spaced tracks parallel to the sled trail. “Hot tea perhaps? Or maybe a plate of roasted pheasant?”

  “Definitely the pheasant,” Nicholas said. “And a mug of ale each from whatever cask is available. We’re not choosy today.”

  “I had to stay sharp whenever Sala was around any of the wine or ale as he was eager to try a sample if he could get away with it,” Rollin replied with a laugh that seemed to warm the winter air. He then veered off to the right to speak with other sled teams. “Still, he somehow manages to pilfer from the biscuit sacks when nobody’s looking!” he added with a wave as he and his words drifted off.

  Nicholas shook his head and sighed. “With all this talk of food, I’m hungry all over again,” he told Malek as they continued forward. “And we just ate lunch!”

  The afternoon hours melted away as the ashen clouds thinned, allowing more light to slip through the snow-coated trees and play in spots upon the crystalline ground. After a short break, the herd of sleds again plowed toward the southeast like tired oxen as Petaras Peak grew steadily closer. Now, less than an hour before twilight, its snowcapped summit was bathed warmly in a pink and tangerine glow as the setting sun peeked through a large break in the clouds. Though near exhaustion, the men eagerly anticipated arriving at their temporary home with childlike excitement. The chance to sleep late the following morning meant more to them right now than sitting down to a sumptuous feast or drinking the most potent ale the Northern Mountains had to offer.