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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  Straight to the prison! The battle is on!

  Word spread among the troops in brusque whispers. The race to Deshla had been infused with new urgency after viewing the aerial display of fire and light. Malek and the other leaders had planned to march the troops to the abandoned Enâri garrison where they would await King Justin’s signal. But as Vellan’s forces had been engaged, there would be no last, brief respite for the mountain resistance. The moment to strike was now when the prison would most likely be the least protected while battle raged in the nearby city. Like birds in flight, the soldiers hurriedly veered to the left away from the river, making for the base of Mount Minakaris.

  They quickened their pace through weedy grass and around thickets of small trees and scrub brush in the faintly growing light. An outcropping of granite blocks was visible in the distance against the mountain itself. This marked the entrance to Deshla prison, built by Vellan’s Enâri laborers years ago. Its gates were guarded by both Island soldiers and men native to the region who had succumbed to Vellan’s will. The exterior walls were dotted with burning torches. Their flickering shadows grew pale in the strengthening dawn, and along with it, any hopes for surprise by the raiding forces. Distant shouts and the harsh blast of a horn gave warning to the troops inside Deshla that danger was afoot.

  “Here comes the welcoming party,” Nicholas said with an uneasy grin, patting the hilt of his short sword as tender thoughts of Ivy raced through his mind. He ran at a moderate pace next to Leo and Hobin, guessing that they both harbored similar notions regarding Megan and Emma.

  The three men were positioned in the middle of the pack. A sea of heads and shoulders in front of them rose and fell as the entrance to the prison grew nearer. Suddenly a group of one hundred surprised soldiers burst out through the front metal doors and stormed across the grass to meet the advancing resistance army. The enemy in Kargoth, especially after the demise of the Enâri, had long expected Arrondale and others to attack. What they never anticipated was a military unit rolling out of the neighboring mountains from the west. Vellan had assured his followers that the rebels from Harlow, Linden and Surna were gadflies at best, capable of launching an occasional raid on an Island raft, but not much more. Kargoth had worried little about the resistance, deeming its members ineffective and demoralized after suffering crushing defeats at Vellan’s hand.

  As the enemy poured out of Deshla, an order was shouted out among the resistance fighters. Fifty soldiers at the front of the line, the best archers among the group, sprinted a short distance toward the charging onslaught and took their positions as the men rushing behind them split in two groups and veered off to either side. With swift and precise motions, the archers loaded their bows and let loose a stinging volley of arrows into the advancing line, the feathered projectiles singing brief notes in the damp morning air before finding their targets with deadly accuracy. About a third of the Deshla guards fell. Malek and his fellow leaders then set loose fighters from both sides of the split formation upon the remaining enemy forces. The rebels converged with raised swords and voices, vastly outnumbering their combatants.

  For a few minutes, the clanging of metal blades rent the air as blood was spilled and last breaths were taken. The clouded eyes and disillusioned thoughts of several men from Kargoth cleared and became whole again as they lingered briefly upon the edge of death, many grateful that they had been released from Vellan’s spell before a final darkness took hold. Most from the Northern Isles who fell, however, were under no spell except their own burning desire to reap imagined rewards upon Vellan’s victory. A few though, dropped their weapons and surrendered as soon as they saw the vast numbers crashing down upon them.

  “This must only be the first wave,” Leo said to Nicholas and Hobin with a trace of surprise. The fighting had suddenly stopped ahead of them and Leo’s sword still rested unused in its sheath.

  “I’m guessing you’re right,” Hobin replied with equal wonder and a hint of uncertainty as an ominous sense of quiet settled upon the land. Nicholas stared at the mountain during the sudden lull, lost in thought.

  None of the three men, including many of those around them, had been afforded the chance to raise their swords since the battle had concluded before they reached the fighting front lines. All were sickened and saddened at the loss of life when they viewed the dead bodies sprawled out upon the ground. And despite some minor injuries, all the soldiers from the Northern Mountains had escaped death in this first round against Vellan.

  The rebel troops walked about with mystified expressions. They gazed at the now unguarded entrance to Deshla prison forty yards away, its large iron doors flung open. Apparently no second wave of soldiers was going to charge at them by the look of things, and the first wave proved to be merely token resistance. After a few hasty orders were barked out, the army hurriedly advanced to the entrance and took up positions along the mountainside while a smaller force was assembled to take the initial plunge inside. Malek, volunteering to lead that group, chose fifty men eager to step into the shadows beyond the gaping entryway. Nicholas ran over to him.

  “I already know what you’re going to ask,” Malek said with a smile, wiping a sleeve across his sweaty brow.

  “And?” Nicholas replied.

  “And of course you’ll be a part of my team,” he said. “Leo and Hobin, too. You all deserve more than anyone else to have a first look inside after what you did for us. I had expected a second, larger force to storm out after the initial onslaught, but it appears that that will not be the case. So, my friends, the mystery of Deshla deepens.”

  “Had the Enâri been here, this wouldn’t have been so easy a fight,” Tradell chimed in as he walked up to Malek’s side. He had participated in the first battle, but other than a torn coat sleeve, he looked none the worse for it. “But I’ll accept a bit of mystery in exchange for this first victory and take my chances inside.”

  “So let’s get on with it,” Hobin said as he and Leo strolled up.

  Malek indicated for his troops to advance, including Max who eagerly desired to see the inner workings of Deshla. With arms at the ready and a scattering of torches in hand, he and his men took their first steps past the thick metal doors, all having pictured this moment occurring amid brutal armed combat instead of with leisurely but cautious steps. Malek, with Tradell and Max shadowing him on either side, entered the prison first, gripping his sword with one hand while holding a torch in the other. Tradell and Max were similarly armed as were Nicholas, Leo and Hobin who followed close behind. They passed through a low, wide passageway built of granite blocks. It extended for a short distance, the end of which was secured by a barred iron gate with a blazing, metal oil lamp affixed to the wall on either side. The gate, though, was unlocked and stood ajar.

  “I guess they’re expecting us,” Malek said.

  “Or perhaps nobody else is home,” Max suggested.

  “Let’s hope not,” whispered Nicholas, his words eaten up in the darkness.

  Tradell swung open the wide gate so everyone could pass down the remaining yards of the entry tunnel which was now carved out of the mountain itself. Two more oil lamps marked the end of the passageway that opened up into a large stone chamber of Enâri construction. But before Malek would allow anyone to enter, he turned and faced the group, lifting his sword and offering a nod of confidence. The others returned an unspoken faith in his leadership, their swords and daggers poised in the flickering glow to face whatever the enemy might throw their way.

  Malek, Max and Tradell stepped into the chamber, each scoping out a separate direction for a quick overview of the layout. Tradell, who had spun to his right facing eastward, looked down at a long tunnel with a series of wooden doors on either side, each with a metal barred opening near the top. The series of prison cells were grimly illuminated by oil lamps hanging from the low ceiling at regular intervals, but how far beyond the light the tunnel extended, he could not guess.

  Max, looking straight ahead, viewe
d a sight identical to what Tradell was witnessing–a string of eerily lit prison cells bathed with troubling stillness and a sickly light. Malek, however, was slightly taken aback when he turned left in a defensive stance, his sword held high as if anticipating a skirmish. But all that greeted him was a thin and disdainful laugh.

  “What is this?” he whispered, lowering his sword slightly. Nicholas hurried to his side, his weapon at the ready. Leo and Hobin edged up behind them. Max and Tradell turned around when hearing the eerie noise.

  “Not what you expected, was it?” said a tall, thin man, darkly dressed. He stood in front of a stone archway framed with burning oil lamps. An armed Island guard waited nearby. Despite knowing that he was defeated, a condescending smile spread across the man’s face. The glow of firelight in the chamber behind him illuminated vague outlines of other people passing to and fro within.

  “No, it was not,” Malek admitted, cautiously taking a step closer. Studying the man’s features, he guessed that the individual was under the influence of the Drusala River. The Island guard next to him seemed to possess his own mental faculties unpolluted by Vellan’s magic. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Istillig. I run this facility,” he coolly replied. “What do you want?”

  “We’re here for our comrades,” Malek said, peering across Istillig’s shoulder into the room beyond. “By the look of things, you don’t have much of a force to back you up. I, on the other hand, have fifty brave men with me and hundreds more outside. So advantage to us, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I’ll give you that,” he said, pointing to the darkness beyond them. “But out there is where it counts. In the city of Del Norác, your advantage is falling apart. Vellan’s servants are laying waste to King Justin’s allied army. It’s only a matter of hours before that paltry force is swept away. Your victory here is only temporary.”

  “Victory?” Leo silently mouthed the word to Hobin with much astonishment as Istillig continued to speak. He wondered why the enemy inside was already admitting defeat after the briefest of battles. Where were the backup forces everyone had expected? Leo glanced around when it suddenly struck him just how quiet and motionless Deshla prison seemed. Where were the prisoners?

  Nicholas wondered the same thing, having remained quiet despite wanting to know so much about the workings of this facility. All he ever desired since early winter was to make his way to this spot and find Ivy, hoping against all odds to the contrary that she was here. Now he could stand the suspense no longer. His impatience rose with every word the enemy spoke. As he anxiously fingered the hilt of his sword, Malek noted his agitated state and decided to slice through the enemy’s bluster.

  “I am beyond weary of your words, Istillig,” he said. “We will search the prison now, including the room behind you.” He motioned to Tradell who hurried out to gather reinforcements.

  “Search away,” Istillig replied with a shrug of indifference, stepping aside and indicating for his guard to stand down. “There are only nine more of us in the administrative quarters behind me. And as for the prison cells, well, you will see shortly. You’ll soon learn the real secret of Deshla which will sting you far more than a cut from the sharpest sword.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nicholas burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. He suddenly lunged at Istillig, but Leo and Malek both grabbed him from behind before he could do any harm. He struggled for a moment and finally calmed down, promising to control himself. When his friends released him, he calmly addressed Istillig. “Where are the prisoners? Where is Ivy?”

  Istillig furrowed his brow. “I don’t know anyone by that name. But as I said before, search away. All you will find here is the bitter truth.”

  “We’ll search anyway,” Malek replied.

  Moments later, Tradell returned with more men bearing torches to help with the search. He directed teams down the two main prison tunnels and the various offshoots soon discovered in the mazelike system. Malek, in the meantime, entered the administrative chamber through the archway with Nicholas and a few others to learn the fate of his missing countrymen. Istillig and his guard surrendered their arms willingly and accompanied them inside where the nine other men awaited.

  The chamber was warmed by several round fire pits vented through openings in the low ceiling. A few wooden tables and shelves were cluttered with ledgers, ink wells and quill pens. A larger table off to one side was used for meals and games of dice for the men on duty. Sleeping quarters were located in a connecting chamber.

  Scattered among the shadows in back of the room were Istillig’s men, their swords raised. Six were from Kargoth and the remaining three stood dressed in garb of the Northern Isles. Before any of them could think about defending themselves, Istillig raised a hand and signaled them to lay down their arms.

  “There is no need to fight,” he calmly said, “since this minor victory by the mountain rebels will be temporary at best. They’ll be dead before the setting of the sun.”

  Malek barely raised an eyebrow at the comment as he indicated for his men to confiscate the weapons. But before they could conduct a thorough search of the chamber’s records, Tradell hurried back into the room and whispered something to Malek.

  “In none of them?” Malek replied with surprise.

  “Not a one,” he said. “And most of the adjoining tunnels are dark and empty.”

  Malek shook his head. “Did I hear correctly? No prisoners?”

  Tradell nodded. “And hardly any prison cells either.”

  Istillig laughed tauntingly, guessing that Malek was finally understanding the deceptive workings of Deshla.

  Under Tradell’s questioning, Istillig revealed the mystery of Deshla prison. Malek and the others listened with great interest as crackling fires filled the chamber with wavering shadows upon the roughly hewn stone walls. Nicholas, leaning against a table, remained silent as the interrogation proceeded. Leo and Hobin noted the growing dark mood of their friend.

  “My men searched the two main tunnels,” Tradell said. “Yet among those passageways, there are barely forty completed cells, all of them empty. Hardly enough to accommodate the thousand or so citizens of the Northern Mountains who had been ripped from their families and homes over the years. And other cell construction was started but never completed.” Istillig, with a knowing gleam in his eyes, remained silent. “As for the connecting tunnels that we’ve so far checked, not a single cell exists in any of them. It’s as if the Enâri dropped their tools before the work of Deshla had barely begun.”

  Istillig smiled snakishly. “You are not far off the mark, sir. Vellan cancelled his grand design for Deshla many years ago shortly after the Enâri had begun construction.”

  “But why?”

  “It’s quite simple.” He paused to see if anyone could guess the reason, but only blank stares greeted him. “At that point in the prison’s construction, Vellan completed another monumental task, one he had labored upon for months. It was a brilliant design which had sapped much of his strength for a time. When completed, it had rendered this prison complex utterly useless.”

  “Don’t play games with us!” Max sputtered. “Tell us where the prisoners are.”

  “It should be obvious by now. The answer lies only a short distance outside the gates of this prison, serenely winding its way through Del Norác and for miles beyond.” As if sharing the same sickening thought, Nicholas and Malek locked their troubled eyes upon Istillig. “By those horrified looks, I assume you’ve unraveled the fates of your friends,” he said. “Though friends might not be an apt description at this point.”

  “You’ve led them all to the river!” Malek spoke in a hardened whisper as waves of contempt coursed through him.

  “Some went more willingly than others,” Istillig replied amid the quiet laughter of his comrades. “But can you envision a more ingenious solution to housing and feeding so many prisoners? Other than killing them all, of course.”

  “So you forced
them to drink of the enchanted river water?” Tradell asked.

  “Usually at the point of a sword or an arrow, though some were pushed in depending on the mood of the Enâri guards who handled those messy affairs,” he said. “And those who didn’t cooperate met a swift end, their bodies left to the whims of the river currents and any predators along the banks. But most of those you seek are now dedicated members of Vellan’s army or workers in his mines or on his farms. Many are probably fighting against King Justin’s army as we speak.”

  “Vellan’s malice has no bounds,” Malek said, trying to comprehend the treachery perpetrated upon the men of Harlow, Linden and Surna. He felt as if a generation of fathers, brothers and sons had been wiped out in a single, dark moment.

  “So all our planning and sacrifice has been for nothing!” Max sputtered. “We’ve been duped for years by the horrible rumors of Deshla that floated among the mountains.”

  “You have,” Istillig replied. “Once Vellan cast his spell upon the river, he realized he no longer needed to waste any time and expense housing his prisoners. After new captives were questioned here and deemed of no further use, they were marched to the Drusala and converted to our side–the majority of them anyway. But Vellan was wise enough to keep the legend of Deshla prison alive, its imagined horrors slowly eroding the hearts and souls of his enemy. He kept this place fully staffed, adding the striking granite façade and metal gates to intimidate any stray passersby. And to completely sell the illusion, Vellan had another Enâri garrison built nearby on the river as an added layer of security against the nonexistent prisoners. The ruse worked beyond his wildest dreams.”

  “But your secret is out now,” Leo said, wondering if Ivy had been taken to the river. Nicholas was thinking the same thing, momentarily paralyzed by the dreaded notion.

  “It doesn’t matter now. The nations of Laparia are about to fall,” Istillig replied. “And fall hard. And you will all witness that glorious spectacle up close.”