“Vellan betrayed one of his own?” Eucádus remarked with a trace of disgust. “Though I don’t know why that should surprise me.”
“I’m not surprised,” Tolapari replied, combing a hand through his tangled locks. “Evil has a tendency to collapse upon itself, to feed on itself. It is not unexpected that Vellan, and those like him, eventually turn against their own to survive and prosper.” He glanced sharply at Caldurian. “For that is what Vellan intended from the start, am I right? I can already see into his twisted motives from what little information you’ve provided.”
Caldurian nodded. “Vellan did just that. Once he learned about Arileez’ transformational abilities which outrivaled anything that he or any other wizard could do, he knew he must get rid of him. He saw Arileez as a threat, wanting to prevent a future rival from vying for dominance while using him at the same time.”
King Justin sputtered in outrage. “Diabolical! And if Arileez had succeeded in taking my place–running the affairs of Arrondale as Vellan saw fit–I’m guessing that he would have eventually lost his transformational powers and have been stuck in my form for the rest of his life, serving as Vellan’s puppet.”
“That was the plan. That was how Vellan had timed his spell to work,” Caldurian said, flashing a heartless smile. “Once Arileez’ powers were gone, Vellan assumed he would have accepted his life as king. And if he somehow learned of Vellan’s grand plan and exposed it to the masses, he risked that people would think him crazed and perhaps demand that Prince Gregory rule in his stead.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” King Justin replied, “but my reign is secure. Your fate and Vellan’s, however, remain to be determined. The two of you might have been further ahead in your deranged goals if you had left Arileez alone.”
“It was our deception of Arileez that saved his life!” he countered, pointing at Brendan. “That is what I came here to tell you. Because Arileez had consumed that potion which slowly depleted his powers, I am guessing that Vellan’s spell was also introduced into Brendan’s body–and your own, King Justin–when you were both wounded. Arileez struck each of you with an extension of his body, his own skin and bone, rather than a sword or dagger of inanimate construction. Vellan’s spell must have reversed your injuries just as it was doing to Arileez’ own capabilities.” Caldurian’s theory captured everyone’s attention. “You told me in the Citadel that the cut to your upper arm had swiftly healed despite the depth of the wound. Prince Brendan’s fatal blow took far longer to undo considering the magnitude of the injury, but as he is now sitting here among us, can you doubt my explanation? What greater proof do you need?”
King Justin remained silent, digesting Caldurian’s words. But as wild as they sounded, the wizard’s reasoning contained a nugget of logic that was difficult to refute.
King Rowan grudgingly spoke up. “I will accept your explanation. But do not be so pleased with yourself, Caldurian. You have the audacity to say that your deception of Arileez saved my grandson’s life. But it was your meddling in the affairs of Laparia that killed him in the first place!” The King’s chest heaved with each deep and angry breath as he recalled the emotional devastation his daughter-in-law, Vilna, was continuing to endure since learning of her son’s death. “Only by sheer luck did Brendan survive the attack of that crazed wizard. So don’t take credit for something good that happened simply due to the fact that you provided Arileez a drink!”
“I don’t mean to take credit for it,” Caldurian replied, “but only hope you appreciate the fact that I took the time to tell you what I know. Perhaps that will begin to atone for what happened to your grandson, if only slightly.”
King Rowan scowled, prepared to utter the inflammatory words on his mind before he abruptly turned around. He stood protectively behind his grandsons, thinking it better not to escalate the growing tension.
“Apparently only slightly,” Tolapari dryly remarked, glancing sharply at his fellow wizard.
“I agree,” King Justin added in a calmer tone. “You have a long way to go to atone for your misdeeds, Caldurian, though I doubt that that is even possible. But for the sake of sparing this one restful day for the soldiers, I will offer a simple thank you for the information before sending you back to your camp. Unless, of course, you have other particulars you’d like to impart.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” he replied. “My amends for one misdeed per day are plenty, don’t you think?”
King Justin said nothing, signaling for the soldier to escort Caldurian back to his tent. Nicholas, though, having silently sat through the wizard’s performance, could not let him leave without at least one comment, however unwise he knew it might be.
“Amending one misdeed each day?” he said standing up, coldly eyeing the wizard. “Then by my calculations it should take you about twenty years to atone for all the damage you’ve done. Sound about right?”
Caldurian stared back with a bewildered air, not sure what to make of the individual who held him in such contempt. Nicholas, churning inside with anger, stood a few feet from Caldurian, his eyes never releasing their hold upon him as wisps of smoke from the fire rose ghostlike in the space between them.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” Caldurian said with forced friendliness. “I don’t know your name, yet you obviously know me. And by your tone, you apparently have a gripe or two against me.”
“Keep counting,” Nicholas said.
Leo noticed his friend’s wavering poise and stood next to him, preparing to intercede should Nicholas attempt something rash. King Justin also noted the young man’s anxious state and intervened.
“What Nicholas refers to, Caldurian, is your infamous dealings with the citizens of Kanesbury twenty years ago. That is his home village, and so his reaction upon meeting you for the first time should be understandable.”
“And were I as callous as you, and you were not so well guarded,” Nicholas added, “you might be lying in a pool of blood right now. After all, the Enâri horde you released upon Kanesbury was responsible for the death of my father, Jack Raven, as I recently learned from the wizard Frist.”
“Raven, you say?” The mention of Nicholas’ surname sent a nauseating chill through the wizard. “You met with Frist?” He looked at Nicholas with a befuddled sense of wonderment, his mouth agape. “Does that mean you were the one–”
“–who brought Frist the medallion to be remade into the key to the Spirit Box?” Tolapari smiled with subdued satisfaction upon seeing Caldurian’s look of distress. “Yes, by their brave deeds, both Nicholas Raven and Leo Marsh here have set Vellan’s plans back quite a few steps. Despite your machinations, the free peoples of this corner of the world will never give in. They’ll overcome whatever you and Vellan throw their way.”
Caldurian ignored Tolapari’s remark, instead fixing his thoughts upon Nicholas. He wondered how this lowly farm worker and gristmill accountant had caused him so much grief. Through his spies, the wizard had learned about Nicholas’ life in Kanesbury, particularly his close relationship with Maynard Kurtz, which forced him to hire others to get rid of Nicholas before he could exact his revenge upon Otto Nibbs. But Caldurian had never laid eyes on Nicholas before as most of his groundwork had been done by intermediaries. He had considered Nicholas merely an afterthought, a faceless nuisance that had to be gotten rid of to achieve a greater aim. Now Caldurian stood before that very man who, once a simple pawn in a larger game, had ended up besting the wizard regarding the fate of the Enâri.
Caldurian suddenly wondered if Nicholas had also discovered who arranged for his life to be turned upside down. But who would have told him the truth behind the strange goings-on in Kanesbury? Certainly not Mune or Madeline, nor even the slightly incompetent Zachary Farnsworth and Dooley Kramer. But the wizard wanted to be sure, fearing that his revenge against Otto might unravel if Nicholas traced his troubles back to him. Right now, that satisfying bit of vengeance was all Caldurian had to sustain him. He wouldn’t give it up for a
nything.
“I won’t say I’m proud of my past,” Caldurian remarked, hoping to draw out more information, “but if that one incident from twenty years ago is your only grievance against me, then maybe I can make it up to you. You need only say how.”
“That one incident is a mighty big grievance and can never be made up for,” Nicholas replied, his temper having cooled while observing what a wretched being Caldurian really was. “And as much as I’d like to take a swing at you, or avenge my father’s death at the point of a knife, I’ll let King Justin and others work out the details of your final judgment. I’m sure there are many recent crimes you’ve committed that should take precedence over my complaint.”
“Wise words from someone so young,” he said, convinced that Nicholas didn’t suspect he was behind his personal troubles at home. “I’m fortunate you have bestowed such compassion upon me.”
“Fortunate that we didn’t let him have at you,” Max softly muttered while standing next to Prince Gregory. Most heard his words with quiet amusement, including Nicholas and Leo who appreciated Maximilian’s Hobin-like demeanor.
“And on that note, Caldurian, I think it’s time you were escorted back to your tent,” King Justin said, signaling to the guard. “And the sooner the better, if you please. I have more important things to do right now, and the first is to enjoy a leisurely lunch. I don’t know about the rest of you, but this endless talk has given me a most monstrous appetite.”
The army resumed its march early the next morning. By mid afternoon, they reached the southern tip of Lake Mara that bordered on the lush eaves of the Braya Woods. Emotions were mixed as soldiers marched or rode past the last rippling images of the lake, some feeling as if they were saying farewell to a trusted friend while others looked forward to a change of scenery. Soon the various companies marched through fresh, thick grass while framed against a line of trees, appearing as long strands of brown and gray ribbons stretched across a sea of soft green. Near twilight they halted, now a few miles away from the southern edge of the forest. Here they made camp, gazing west across a twenty-five mile gap between the Braya Woods and the Rhoon Forest, the army’s next destination. Beyond the Rhoon lay the Northern Mountains and the realm of Kargoth.
A cool, clear night gave way to a sunny but chilly morning as the army began the next leg of its campaign. Nicholas and Leo had said their goodbyes to Carmella who stayed near the back of the supply line. They now rode alongside Prince Gregory and King Justin at the head of the army, preparing to part ways shortly and veer northwest into Linden with Max and Hobin. The two guides, having become fast friends, rode close behind with Kings Rowan and Cedric and Tolapari. Each regaled the trio with competing tales from the Northern Mountains and the Dunn Hills, urging them to choose a favorite. Nicholas and Leo, hearing their friendly argument, couldn’t help but laugh to themselves.
“We’ll have that to look forward to,” Nicholas said. “The miles along the Bellunboro River will be entertaining, if anything.”
“Enjoy it while you can,” King Justin said, “for at the end of both our paths lay Del Norác. I envision little laughter there.”
“As do I,” said Prince Gregory, his grim expression making Nicholas suspect that he had more on his mind than the impending conflict. “Remember, if negotiations with Vellan fail–which I suspect they will, if they happen at all–then a volley of flaming arrows will fly at dawn sixteen days from today to signal the start of our war.”
“And our raid on Deshla,” Nicholas said gravely. “Sixteen days. I’ll remember.”
“That’s on the twentieth day of New Spring, giving you enough time to reach Max’s people in the mountains,” he continued, “and giving us several days’ leeway to reach Del Norác. Max has already notched that date for when he makes his report.”
“We’ll be traveling in parallel directions around one long loop,” said Leo, anticipating the miles ahead. “I look forward to seeing you again when our respective roads meet, but I fear there’ll be the sound of clashing swords in the air when we do.”
King Justin gazed contemplatively across the grassy vista and gently rolling hills. “I never had any illusions that our march upon Vellan’s stronghold would produce a result other than warfare. But that is our fate, as unpleasant a fact as it is.”
“Speaking of unpleasant facts,” Prince Gregory remarked, tossing an uneasy glance at Nicholas, “there is something I need to tell you before we part ways. I was going to mention it the day you arrived, but seeing how your introduction to Caldurian played out, I thought it best to hold off. After all, there is nothing now that can be done regarding some unfortunate happenings in Kanesbury that began late last autumn.”
Nicholas expected the worst. “Unfortunate happenings? I’m afraid to ask, but tell me what you know.”
“This is according to Len Harold. I talked with him while leading my troops through Kanesbury. He told me that Caldurian had attacked your village with a company of Island soldiers. They controlled Kanesbury for nine days in the month of Old Autumn.”
Nicholas shook his head in disbelief. “Caldurian was in my village–again? Why?”
Prince Gregory told of the disruptive events as Len had described them, including the hording of people’s food, Caldurian’s dramatic reappearance and Otto’s public sentencing. The look of dismay upon Nicholas’ face was heartbreaking when he learned of the hardship and humiliation his fellow villagers had endured at the hands of the wizard. Nicholas was especially shocked when informed that Otto Nibbs was currently in prison awaiting trial and that Maynard Kurtz’ whereabouts was unknown.
“Maynard had left your village to meet with my father at the Citadel and inform him of Caldurian’s reappearance.”
“I was off to war in Rhiál by then,” King Justin said. “I was later informed that Mr. Kurtz never arrived at the Citadel nor has been seen since. I sent scouts out to help search for him when I learned of the news, but to no avail.”
“I can’t believe this,” Nicholas muttered.
“Len informed me that a man named Zachary Farnsworth was serving as acting mayor,” the prince said. “But where things stand in your village since we left Morrenwood, I cannot say.”
Nicholas’ thoughts spun like a wintry gale, unable to make sense why Caldurian would assault his village after all these years. He wondered about Katherine Durant and others close to him back home, imagining how they had fared during that horrible week as prisoners in their own village. He just couldn’t understand why.
“All are safe and Caldurian is our prisoner,” Prince Gregory said, “so you needn’t worry about that aspect of the situation.”
“Why bother when there are so many other disturbing aspects to worry about?” Nicholas replied with bitter sarcasm. A new thought suddenly struck him. “I already figured out that Dooley Kramer and Arthur Weeks had framed me for the gristmill robbery, though I could never come up with a good reason as to why. But since they also had possession of the key until Jagga got his hands on it, then they must have had some dealings with Caldurian, too. Doesn’t that make sense?”
“Dooley and Arthur?” Leo asked skeptically. “From what you told me about those two, I find it difficult to believe that they would know how to cultivate a relationship with the likes of Caldurian, much less find him in the first place.”
“But they might have worked for someone who could,” King Justin suggested.
“Who?” Nicholas wondered aloud. “It may sound farfetched, but I’m beginning to wonder if Caldurian was behind the incidents that happened to me during the Harvest Festival. But why would he care one whit about me or want to ruin my life?” He chuckled, his words suddenly sounding ridiculous to his ear.
“I suppose it’s possible,” Leo said, offering support.
“Thanks, but I’m grasping at phantoms. Just because Dooley may have had dealings with Caldurian while trying to frame me at the same time could merely be a coincidence. I had no knowledge of the key’s whereabout
s nor can think of anything I did or knew or possessed that would have made me a threat to the wizard.” Nicholas shrugged. “Maybe I’ll never know the reasons behind what happened to me unless I ask Dooley himself. That seems to be my only recourse if I ever make it back to Kanesbury.”
“You could ask Caldurian,” Leo suggested. “He’s only a mile or so behind us.”
King Justin shook his head. “Definitely not. Though I know that Leo jests, I would not recommend it. I see only trouble coming from such a confrontation.”
Nicholas put the King at ease. “So do I. Though the wizard would deny his connection if there was one, I don’t want to cause any unrest now that you’re close to confronting Vellan,” he said. “Nor do I want to jeopardize my own life when I’m so close to finding Ivy. Until she’s safe, I can live with the web of mystery and deceit I’m entangled in. I have no choice.”
“A sensible course,” the King replied, “though I suspected that you and Leo had a firm footing in the arena of commonsense since I first met you. You’ve grown wise during your time on the road, Nicholas Raven.”
“Thanks,” he replied with a faint smile. “But the road has made me weary, stretching on far longer than I ever anticipated. I’ll be happy when it comes to an end.”
Several miles and a few hours later, the rich green expanse of the Rhoon Forest appeared on the western horizon as the army’s front lines advanced up a gently sloping ridge. The southernmost peaks of the Northern Mountains lay sleepily in the background behind a tranquil, blue haze. Here is where Nicholas, Leo, Hobin and Max bid their friends goodbye, wishing them a safe journey until they would meet again in Del Norác. The quartet, on horseback and loaded up with fresh supplies, veered northwest, planning to skirt around the Rhoon’s northern tip and enter the mountain nation of Linden.
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web (The Complete Epic Fantasy) Page 152