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

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “Have you lost all sense of reason, constable? You cannot treat me like this!” he fired back. “I am mayor of this village.”

  “I beg to differ, sir,” Len Harold replied as he rose to his feet. “Now that Maynard Kurtz has returned, he automatically resumes the duties of that office which he temporarily transferred to you when he left for Morrenwood.” Len snapped his fingers and feigned an absentminded laugh. “Pardon me, but I just realized that it was the impostor Maynard Kurtz who appointed you to the village council and then as acting mayor. So in reality, you hold no political office at all and therefore have no say over these proceedings.”

  Farnsworth, his mouth agape, desperately searched for a reply. When he finally gathered his faculties, the side door reopened as Tyler Harkin returned, only this time he accompanied someone into the hall. Everyone noticed at once and a collective gasp erupted, followed by excited whispers, buoyant smiles and a scattering of applause. Zachary Farnsworth caught sight of the individual walking alongside the deputy, slapped by another stunning turn of events.

  “What’s he doing here?” he whispered in disgust. “I didn’t authorize this!”

  “You have to stop saying things like that,” the constable said, “as you have no authority around here, Mr. Farnsworth.” Clay turned to Otto Nibbs who was walking toward him at Tyler Harkin’s side. He placed a hand upon his shoulder. “Welcome back, Otto,” he said. Otto looked on in stunned silence as Constable Brindle addressed the crowd. “And let me also announce that I am withdrawing all charges against Otto Nibbs in light of today’s testimony, though most of us believe this is an action long overdue.”

  Otto turned to the constable with a bemused grin on his face. “You’re telling me this is over, Clay?” he asked, not quite sure that he wasn’t dreaming.

  “You’re a free man, Otto!” he replied, shaking his hand as everyone broke out in spontaneous cheering.

  Katherine and Sophia rushed up to Otto and wrapped their arms around him as tears of joy flowed among the reunited family. Nicholas, watching from close by, basked in the joy that radiated from them, grateful that his village had begun the long, slow process of healing. At the same time, Clay whispered into Farnsworth’s ear before indicating to Deputy Harkin to immediately escort him out of the hall to the lockup.

  “Please come with me,” the deputy quietly told Farnsworth amid the cheers swirling around them in a sea of lively emotions. Tyler gently placed a hand on his upper arm to guide him to the side door before the crowd around Otto grew any larger.

  “Fine!” he bitterly muttered. “I’m ready to leave.”

  “Thank you, sir. Now this way please,” the deputy instructed, indicating the side door to the right of the fireplace. “And then later I’ll have to–”

  But those were the last words Tyler spoke as Farnsworth abruptly turned his shoulder to one side and broke free of the deputy’s hold. He bolted down the center aisle toward the main entrance, shoving people aside as they made their way up to offer congratulations to Otto and Nicholas.

  “Stop him!” Tyler shouted, racing down the aisle in pursuit.

  “Don’t let him get away!” Clay hollered above the commotion punctuated by scattered screams and wildly flung commands to apprehend the traitorous Farnsworth.

  But despite his swift start, Zachary Farnsworth didn’t get very far. As soon as he had cleared the aisle and barreled into the entryway, he found the front doors blocked by a wall of irate citizens, their arms interlocked and their feet planted firmly to the floor. He knew at once that he wouldn’t escape that way.

  “Get out of my way!” he shouted, his face scarlet with rage.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” a man in front told him.

  “Your only option is to come peacefully with me,” Deputy Harkin called from behind where another wall of people had formed alongside him, penning Farnsworth inside the entryway. “How shall we do this?” he asked. “Do you want to accompany me to the lockup? Or would you rather be carried there by these nice people? Your choice.”

  Farnsworth, inhaling short, shallow breaths as he looked from side to side, slowly walked backward until he came to a halt near the bottom step of the staircase where the day’s proceedings had begun.

  “Ingrates, every one of you!” he snarled, his face contorted as if a trapped animal. “I was turning this village into something more than it is, something special. It could have been a place worth living in one of these days, but you’ve just thrown that chance away!”

  “Kanesbury already is a place worth living in,” Nicholas said as he and Clay Brindle emerged through the crowd protectively surrounding Deputy Harkin.

  “And we’re quite happy with it that way, Zachary.” Otto’s unflappable voice cut through the tension as he also made his way through the wall of people. “Now go quietly with the deputy and put an end to this unbecoming spectacle. It’s all over.”

  Farnsworth glanced at Otto Nibbs, wishing that Caldurian had simply killed him instead of concocting such an elaborate scheme for his revenge. “No, Otto. This isn’t over until I say it is!” he lashed out. In a flash, he spun around and bolted up the staircase to the offices above. At once, several people prepared to rush up after him.

  “Hold on!” Tyler Harkin called out, ordering them all back.

  “You heard my deputy!” Clay shouted from behind as he briskly hobbled through the crowd, clutching his cane for support. “There’s no way for Zachary to escape now. He’s trapped. Let Tyler and a few of my other men go upstairs in an orderly fashion. I’ll have no one else in this village getting hurt again on his account.”

  “But, Clay, some of us want to…”

  “Is that understood?” the constable ordered.

  “Yes…” another voice disappointingly replied, speaking for the others.

  With the crowd momentarily under control, Constable Brindle consulted with Tyler in hushed tones about securing reinforcements as everyone looked on. But just as the deputy nodded, ready to act on the constable’s plan, a chorus of shouting could be heard outdoors, steadily rising in volume. When someone in back of the crowd opened the front door, the frantic calls from the street were unmistakable.

  “Now what’s going on?” Clay sputtered, wading through the throng of people blocking the entrance. “Let us through please!”

  “Zachary Farnsworth is on the roof!” somebody shouted outside as a wave of cool, early evening air wafted indoors. “He’s climbing out through the bell tower!”

  At once, the villagers inside the building spilled out into the dusky street as the last rays of the setting sun filtered through scattered pines and leafy trees. A handful of stars emerged against a dark, velvety blue backdrop, keeping company with the quarter Bear Moon hanging above. Lounging above the eastern horizon was the nearly full Fox Moon emitting a shimmering, silvery glow.

  The rush of people through the front and side doors subsided as everyone spread out into the street and around the village hall. All were stunned by the sight of Zachary Farnsworth crawling like a frightened rat out of the north exit of the four small arched openings comprising the bell tower. Its lemon-yellow painted sides were dully illuminated by the sun’s dying light and the glow of the dual moons. Yet the citizens of Kanesbury who had just emerged from the village hall were more surprised by a second spectacle. Farnsworth, too, was taken aback by the same sight once he wormed his way out of the bell tower and gingerly got to his feet, straddling either side of the sloping roof. But unlike the triumphant sense of joy quietly exhibited by the others, Farnsworth’s heart sank as he gazed down upon the gathering below. Any hopes of escape were instantly dashed.

  As he craned his head forward, holding onto the eaves of the bell tower to steady himself, he counted twenty of King Justin’s soldiers on horseback positioned in a sweeping arc along the front and west sides of the building where the two exits were located. Several other soldiers walked about the area and mingled with the crowd. The large maple tree between the vil
lage hall and the lockup next door cast an ominous shadow. Some of the upper branches touched the edges of the roof like groping fingers that brushed against the structure whenever a slight breeze passed by.

  Farnsworth sighed with a heavy heart when spotting his nine hired hands, all now reluctant guests of the King. He wiped his brow and grimaced, staring at them sitting on the grass off to one side under the watchful eyes of three guards. Their hands were tied behind their backs after having been easily apprehended by the overwhelming force.

  “Zachary, get down here before you fall and break your neck!” Clay Brindle shouted from below. Standing beside him were King Justin, Otto Nibbs, Maynard Kurtz and Len Harold in a united front, all hoping to defuse this last obstacle so the village could begin to heal. Deputy Harkin soon joined them, awaiting orders from the constable.

  Nicholas stood nearby with Adelaide, Katherine, Lewis and Sophia, all looking up at Farnsworth’s shadowy figure balanced upon the rooftop, each feeling as if they were immersed in a nonsensical dream. Gilbert Trout stood a short distance away with his parents and siblings, all of them equally enthralled.

  “And I thought I had seen everything when inside Mount Minakaris,” Nicholas said to Katherine with grim humor as they watched the spectacle unfold.

  “Apparently the thirst for power affects both the great and the small,” she replied. “It’s like a horrible fever, I suppose.”

  “But just as in Kargoth, this fever should break soon,” remarked a familiar voice.

  Nicholas turned, noting an approaching figure in the dusky light. He smiled with boundless gratitude, surprised again for a second time this evening. “Prince Gregory!” he said, extending a hand to King Justin’s son. “I was only hoping that a few of your soldiers would show up, never expecting you or your father.”

  “And miss this exciting trial that you wrote to me about?” he replied. Nicholas introduced him to everyone, mentioning that Katherine was Otto Nibbs’ niece.

  “Since your mother and Otto are second cousins to my father,” Prince Gregory said, “that makes us third cousins. This gathering has become a family reunion of sorts.”

  “And we can thank Nicholas for arranging it,” Katherine lightly replied.

  “But I didn’t expect you or King Justin to attend. How’d that happen?” he asked.

  “When Gilbert arrived at Graystone with your request for troops, I decided to lead them here myself,” the prince said. “And as there were several days to spare before the trial, I sent word to the Citadel and informed my father of your plight, guessing he may have wanted to lend words of support. We arrived a few hours ago. I held my men back just beyond the river until the trial started so as not to cause any commotion.”

  “Your help is beyond appreciated,” Nicholas replied, signaling for Gilbert and his family to join them. He introduced Emmett and Lorna to the prince who thanked them for their son’s service.

  “With Gilbert’s assistance, we located Farnsworth’s allies and quietly rounded them up, though most surrendered on the spot.”

  “If only Zachary would recognize his fate and surrender as well,” Katherine said, glancing up at the disgraced man who still pondered his next move while precariously balanced upon the roof.

  “I don’t think he’s the surrendering type,” Lewis said, standing at her side.

  Constable Brindle’s voice boomed through the air again, his patience wearing thin. “Zachary, I’m giving you one last chance to end this before I send a team up there to drag you down!” he hollered. “It’s your choice. What do you want to do?” But when Farnsworth didn’t respond, Clay glanced uneasily at his companions. “Well, I guess that’s that,” he quietly told them.

  Otto stared at the rooftop, the figure of Zachary Farnsworth transforming into a shadowy silhouette as moonlight filtered through the treetops. “I can’t imagine what that man must be thinking right now,” he remarked. “Dark thoughts, no doubt.”

  Farnsworth, at the moment, was paralyzed by his muddled reflections. He gazed down at the crowd, torn between attempting a blatant escape which would most likely end in his capture, or retreating back inside the village hall and turning himself in to Constable Brindle and perhaps retaining a shred of dignity. But either option ended up with him behind a locked door with a small barred window for perhaps the remainder of his life.

  As his fingers gripped the edge of the bell tower, he recalled when he had first seen Dooley Kramer fingering that iron key around his neck over five years ago, wishing that he had minded his own business. If he had simply walked down the street then and passed his neighbor with only a brief hello, he might now be enjoying dinner in the Iron Kettle Tavern or perhaps running his own business like he had always wanted. But now it was too late, he realized. A decision had to be made soon or it would be made for him.

  As Farnsworth looked down at the shadowy faces, the cold, empty pit of his stomach signaled that all was lost. There would be no more meetings or fancy dinners to attend, nor a title of respect to parade about the village on a warm summer afternoon, nor even the simple turning of heads when visiting a local shop. All that remained was to determine the best method of surrender that would cause the least amount of shame.

  As the light faded, he shifted his gaze between the bell tower and the villagers below, knowing it was time to choose. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his remaining courage and made up his mind, hoping his final move would draw back some of the citizens of Kanesbury to his side. When he heard Clay call to him again from the street, he could no longer distinguish the constable’s outline in the gloom. He had to act now as he possessed only this one last chance to sway the public.

  “Zachary, unless you answer me this instant, my men and I are coming after you!” Clay hollered up to the rooftop, though expecting that Farnsworth would persist in his stubborn silence. When no response was forthcoming, he turned to the others and sighed. “Well, he had his chance, so I guess this will end ugly.” The constable signaled to Tyler Harkin who had been standing attentively nearby. “Round up a handful of men and follow me inside. Let’s get this over with.”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied, hurrying off to recruit his team.

  “Shall we accompany you?” Maynard asked, looking on with Otto, Len and King Justin.

  “No, this is something my men and I need to take care of. I think we’ll–”

  Clay was suddenly interrupted by a single, loud clang of the village bell, its deep, sonorous reverberations wafting through the streets while startling all who were gathered nearby. Everyone simultaneously looked up at the bell tower, its outline vaguely visible against the starry sky. Below, the soft yellow light from inside the first floor poured through the windows and front doorway, splashing gently upon the grassy perimeter.

  “Now what is that fool up to? Is he trying to annoy me to death?” the constable sputtered, pounding the tip of his cane into the ground. “Tyler, where are you?”

  “Here, sir!” The deputy hurried over with three other men in tow and followed the constable to the door.

  “Listen up,” Clay began, pausing at the front steps to explain his plan. But he had barely opened his mouth when the village bell pealed loudly once again, shocking everyone to attention a second time. A few oil lamps began to ignite one by one among the crowd, bathing pockets of people in a subtle glow.

  “What is Zachary doing?” someone commented nearby in disgusted tones.

  Nicholas wondered the same thing as he stared up at the bell tower, thinking that Farnsworth had gone mad. “Perhaps the dreadfulness of all he had done is finally sinking in,” he remarked to Katherine and the others.

  “Or more likely the consequences he is about to face,” she replied.

  At that moment, Nicholas felt the tiniest bit sorry for the man whose world was crashing down around him, recalling his own brush with a similar fate last autumn. Yet he had serious doubts that Farnsworth could ever redeem himself after what he had done, wondering if the man would ever ac
cept responsibility for his actions.

  The village bell sounded one more time, but unlike the first two deafening clangs, this particular ring was swift and deadened, its crippled sound eaten up by the night before it had a chance to drift beyond the bewildered gathering. Everyone stared curiously at the bell tower after hearing the strange metallic clunk. Constable Brindle thought it was a most odd and unsettling sound.

  “I don’t know what to make of that,” he said to Tyler, his words barely above a whisper. “Light the spare oil lamps in the entryway and race upstairs with your team. Farnsworth is up to some sort of mischief or my name isn’t Clay Brindle.” He tapped his cane on the floorboards after they all went inside, wordlessly indicating that he wouldn’t have the strength to make it up the set of stairs wrapped around the inside of the tower. “Hurry and report back. And bring that insufferable Farnsworth with you.”

  “I plan to,” Deputy Harkin said.

  He and the other three men each grabbed an oil lamp sitting on a recessed shelf in the entryway and lit them from one of the flickering lamps upon the wall. In funereal silence, the four men proceeded up the stairs to the next floor now fully immersed in darkness, making their way to the bell tower door that stood slightly ajar. After placing a finger to his lips, Tyler carefully pushed open the door and entered the darkened stairwell. And though the light from their lamps helped cast away the gloom as they ascended the angular staircase in single file, a murky oppressiveness closed in upon them with each step despite the cooling breeze that drifted inside through the arched openings at the top.

  After Tyler had taken a few right turns up the creaky staircase and heard no sound above, he began to wonder if Farnsworth had escaped onto the roof again or had possibly hurried back down before he and the others had reentered the building, perhaps hiding in a second floor office or in the main room where Nicholas’ trial was held. As he ascended another short flight, Tyler considered sending some of his men downstairs to search the rest of the building and inform Constable Brindle of his change in tactics. He raised his oil lamp higher while making the turn up the next flight, glancing to his right as the flickering flame dispersed the gloom.