Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web - Volume 1 (3 page)

NICHOLAS RAVEN

AND THE

WIZARDS’ WEB

VOLUME 1

~  PROLOGUE AND CHAPTERS 1 - 39  ~

PROLOGUE

Fifty years ago...

They’ll forever regret the day I return.

The wizard Vellan pulled the wolf skin cloak tightly about his shoulders as he trudged through the desolate brush lands. Bitter winds of New Autumn chilled him to the bone despite the blinding sunlight that stabbed through breaks in the ashen clouds. The Gable Mountain Range lay three days behind in the west. Vellan prided himself that he hadn’t once glanced back in the direction where his foolish and faithless companions still resided. Yet his black thoughts contemplated a day far in the future when he would again stare them down from the sacred hilltop of Ulán with vengeance and crushing might at his side. A day he would proudly show his fellow wizards what they could have achieved had they abandoned their fear, timidity and lack of vision and stood by his side. A day he would finally destroy them.

In time. All in good time.

Vellan clutched an oak staff, pounding it on the hard grassy ground with each step. A clear crystal globe the size of his fist was mounted on top, reflecting the blood red color of falling leaves. The wizard’s staff was his most prized possession, something he had owned for just over half of his twenty-eight years. How joyful he had been to receive it on his thirteenth birthday, indicating that he was accepted into the wizards’ order to begin his training. He had proudly used the staff ever since during his many travels abroad. So let the others disagree with his views now, expelling him from their order and driving him out of the valley. What did
they
know? But they would never get his staff back. Vellan had refused to turn it over when they banished him. And though his training in the magic arts was still not finished, he knew he could teach himself what little remained. He didn’t need further instruction from the other wizards, convinced he was well beyond their skills and parochial mindset. Why, he could teach
them
! And he vowed to one day take the magic arts to such lofty levels that they could never imagine.

Blind fools! They have the world at their hands yet refuse to grasp it.

Vellan sighed wearily, caressing his whiskered face. He had grown tired of revisiting the arguments which had churned endlessly in his mind these last three days. He walked faster, his heavy cloak swaying behind him, his long black hair blowing in the breeze. Though he had wandered many miles from home in a valley tucked among the Gable Mountains where his fellow wizards resided, he only now approached the true end of their realm. The Mang River snaking just ahead through the brush lands marked the eastern border of the lands where he had spent nearly his entire life.

He squatted down at the water’s edge and took a cold drink. The briskly flowing river narrowed and was less deep a few miles to the north. He would hike a little longer and cross at that point where he would bid a final goodbye to his old life with each step across the water. Beyond the Mang River were the Tunara Plains, stretches of barren land he must also cross before reaching Laparia, his ultimate destination. Somewhere in that populated region he would seek shelter and privacy while pondering what to do with his life. But where to ultimately settle? Vellan already had an idea.

The young wizard took one more drink, refilled his water skin, and then moved on. The few miles hike north along the river’s edge proved swift and uneventful. He found a spot to cross near a straggly grove of birch trees as the sun sank low in the west and the clouds gradually parted. A haunting orange glow painted the surrounding rocks and grassy shore. He draped the bottom of his cloak over his left arm and stepped one foot into the shallow river. The dirt washed off his boot and muddied the water. When he took his next step, his oak staff sliced through the water and hit the sandy river bottom. Vellan now stood completely outside the wizards’ realm.

He shuddered as he saw it happen–a final insult from the other wizards. The clear crystal globe on his oak staff slowly dulled in color, turning ashen gray and then totally black. Vellan’s dark eyes widened in horror as his heart filled with rage. He ran shouting across the river, the cold water splashing about him like liquid fire. He raced up the opposite shore, twirling about and stumbling as if in a mad delirium, kicking stones and thrashing at the dry stalks of grass.

“No! No! They can’t do this to me!”

Vellan raised his staff with both hands and cried out to the skies, his face twisted in agony. He grabbed the bottom of the staff and lurched toward a nearby boulder half buried in the ground. He smashed the top of the staff against the rock with all his might, shattering the blackened crystal and splintering the upper portion of the wood. He heaved the staff to the ground as he bounded about in rage for several more moments until finally collapsing to his knees near the rock. The young wizard buried his face in his quivering hands, his eyes dry and stinging, and every breath a painful chore.

Vellan remained there unmoving for nearly an hour, feeling a kinship to the rock and soil until the sun dipped below the western horizon and the first few stars speckled the darkening skies in the east. And though the breezes had calmed, the cold night air eventually forced him to his feet. It was time to move on. His numbed mind and heart could sort through the horrid details later. He felt weak as he wrapped his wolf skin cloak tightly about him. With mixed feelings, he retrieved the remains of his staff and continued his lonely walk eastward, his banishment and humiliation now complete.

PART ONE

TROUBLE IN KANESBURY

CHAPTER 1

Plans Made

Nicholas Raven walked briskly along the village streets of Kanesbury, convinced he had at last discovered the answer to his problem. Now he couldn’t wait to tell the world.

The sweet smell of wood smoke peppered the crisp autumn air as a mischievous breeze sent leaves swishing across the hard dirt road. He lifted his jacket collar up over the back of his neck, blowing a few puffs of air into his hands to warm them. He had been craving some adventure and purpose in his life and now knew where to find it, yet he wondered how Maynard and Adelaide would take the news. But this was something he needed to do. All of his nineteen years had been spent in Kanesbury, the last few of them helping out on Maynard Kurtz’s farm and working as a bookkeeper at the local gristmill. Now it was time to get out, he decided, or else he would surely die of boredom.

Kanesbury, a tiny community in the kingdom of Arrondale, was nestled on the northern tip of the Cumberland Forest. Morning sunlight dappled the ground as it sliced through clusters of red and orange leaves clinging precariously to the multitude of trees protectively lining its streets. As Nicholas neared the bake shop, two men with weather-beaten faces were digging a hole in front of the establishment. The scent of fresh bread and pastries wafted through the air. He stopped to watch, raking his fingers through a head of light brown hair. A load of long wooden posts rested on the back of a horse-drawn cart. Preparations were underway for the Harvest Festival in five days.

“We still got half the village to outfit with these posts,” Arlo Brewer told Nicholas. “Ask your boss for the day off so you can help us,” he joked, one thumb wrapped around his suspenders. “You know how fussy Mayor Nibbs is about his festival torches. Wants ‘em just right for the celebration.”

“You men are doing a fine job, as usual. I’m just here for a slice of pumpkin bread on my way to work,” Nicholas said, examining the posts. “They look taller this year.”

“Mayor Nibbs ordered the torches half an arm’s length longer,” the other man replied, puffing on a pipe. “Drew Chance caught his straw hat on fire as he walked by one last year, remember? But he is a tall chap.” Zeb Walker spat into the hole. “Only a drunken stilt-walker will be in danger this year,” he added, bursting out laughing.

Nicholas looked forward to the Harvest Festival, the annual three-day holiday held throughout the village. Most communities observed the tradition during the month of New Autumn. Villages throughout Arrondale set aside the first three days of the second full week to revel day and night. He planned to meet with friends at the Water Barrel Inn that first evening to share a mug of ale and kick off the festivities. He hoped Katherine Durant might accompany him to the village dance on the final night if he could first work up the courage to invite her.

During those three days, Kanesbury would be inundated with traveling craftsmen and acrobats, soothsayers and conjurers, all looking for a free meal or a few tossed coins for their efforts. The locals loved the entertainment as visitors would wander through the evening streets lit by the giant torches. Crowds of wide-eyed children and chattering adults would play games of chance and gobble down outdoor cooking at its finest. For three autumn evenings the village would appear magical under the stars, a perfect place to live. Nicholas was saddened, realizing that he would soon be leaving it behind.

He said nothing of his plans to Ned Adams, his employer, while working at his desk that morning. Nicholas performed the bookkeeping for Ned at the stone gristmill perched upon the banks of the Pine River. With the last flour shipments of the season being readied for delivery to other parts of the kingdom, Ned’s mind was juggling enough details at the moment. Nicholas’ news could wait for a less hectic moment. Besides, he thought it best that Maynard, who was like a father to him, should learn of his plans first. The young man decided to tell him sometime after dinner, unsure how he would receive the news.

Maynard Kurtz wandered out of the sagging barn beside his house later that evening. The horses were secure for the night. He glanced up at a rich blue sky as the first stars of twilight blinked on. The setting sun painted streaks of purple and orange across the western horizon. Neither the Bear Moon nor the Fox Moon was out tonight.

As he walked under a towering oak near the corner of his house, Nicholas sauntered across the grass behind him. “I see you’ve mended that break in the pasture fence. I had planned to fix it tomorrow.”

Maynard turned around. “Hello, Nicholas. So Ned finally let you out to enjoy some fresh air?” Nicholas resided in a small cottage in back of Maynard’s house as a portion of his salary for working part-time on the farm. “I had time to repair the fence this morning. How’re things at the mill?”

“Busy as usual readying the final shipments before winter. Ned’s bouncing around like a fish out of water.”

Maynard grinned as he signaled for Nicholas to follow him to the front porch. Maynard sat his large frame down on the top step, pushing his long silvery-black hair behind his shoulders. He was fifty-four, widowed, and the respected head of Kanesbury’s five-member village council. Nicholas stood on the ground adjacent to the steps, leaning an arm on the railing. His green eyes darted anxiously about.

“I’m simmering some stew over the fire. Join me for supper, Nicholas?”

“Thanks, Maynard. I will.” He rolled his boot over a fallen acorn, knowing it wouldn’t be easy breaking his news. A part of him felt selfish for wanting to leave the farm, especially after all that Maynard had done for him. Maynard Kurtz was more than just an employer–he was a friend. And on crisp autumn nights like this, when crickets were alive in the fields and dusky twilight framed the trees and houses as silhouettes against a blazing horizon, Nicholas couldn’t envision a better place to live.

“You’ve been awfully quiet these last few–”

“Maynard, there’s something I need to tell you,” Nicholas said at the same time.

Maynard smiled, leaning back on the steps and stretching his legs. “You first. I sensed you’ve had something on your mind lately.”

Nicholas nodded and sat on the bottom step, staring guiltily at the ground. “I’ve been growing restless here, Maynard, I guess. Not just on the farm though. Kanesbury in general. Thinking maybe I should– Well, just thinking that...” He cleared his throat.

“Thinking that life’s passing you by while you’re cooped up like a chicken in this little village?” Maynard raised an eyebrow as Nicholas looked up at him.

“Something like that. How’d you know?”

“Understandable for a man your age. You feel that the world is waiting for you to conquer it. Yet here you are at nineteen, helping me harvest my fields and keeping track of every sack of flour Ned Adams has stored inside his warehouse.” Maynard sat up and rested his hands on his knees. “Doesn’t feel fair at your age.”

“I want to make something of my life, Maynard, not that I don’t appreciate living here. I understand that the jobs both you and Ned do are important,” he added, a hint of an apology in his voice.

“You needn’t justify your feelings to me, Nicholas. I was your age once. I had my own dreams.” Maynard glanced up at the starry sky. “Some came true, others didn’t. I even invented new dreams along the way. Marrying Tessa was the best one of all.”

“So you didn’t mind staying here when you were my age?”

“Sure I did–at times. What boy doesn’t dream about going off on an exciting journey? Seeing strange new places or being a hero. But most men tend to settle down once the right woman comes along and the years go by. They make the best of a new life together. Few men are destined to be world travelers, Nicholas. Or heroes.”

“I’m not looking to be a hero. I was only hoping for a bit of adventure. Maybe just a little excitement until I do settle down.”

Maynard chuckled understandingly. “I know. So tell me what you have in mind. More schooling in one of the larger cities? Maybe start your own business? That might impress Katherine Durant.”

Nicholas looked up. “
What
?”

“I’ve seen how you look at her in the village.” Maynard grinned. “And on more than one occasion lately you’ve found an excuse to go to the Stewarts’ household in hopes that she might be working there, or so I’ve heard.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” he replied with a guilty smile, quickly changing the subject. “But more book learning isn’t exactly my plan, or starting a business either.” Nicholas stood and climbed a few steps closer to Maynard, speaking softly as if revealing a long-held secret. “I was thinking about traveling to Morrenwood to join up with the King’s Guard. What do you think?”

“
Hmmm
,” he said, stroking his chin. “I didn’t expect that answer.” He looked directly at Nicholas. “That would surely impress Katherine.”

“Be serious!” He playfully punched Maynard in the arm. “What do you think? Your opinion means a lot to me.”

“Well, I appreciate that you value my musings so much,” he replied. “And though I could dispense enough advice to fill up Neeley’s Pond, the final decision is yours alone. What you think deep inside your heart is what you’ll ultimately do.”

“A hint of an opinion from you would be nice though.”

Maynard nodded. “What position do you see yourself holding in King Justin’s army? A guard in the Blue Citadel? Maybe work yourself up to an advisory post? Or do you just want to be a grunt soldier going out on maneuvers throughout Arrondale?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” Nicholas admitted. “I remember when the King’s soldiers passed through two months ago to register new recruits. Five more had signed on. I knew two of them. When they all marched off for Morrenwood three weeks later, I felt they were doing something special. Made my life here seem kind of dull.”

“They might wish they were back here again if Arrondale ever gets involved in the war down south. You’ve heard the talk.”

“Who hasn’t?”

“War isn’t a glamorous adventure, Nicholas, though it may appear so to a pair of impressionable eyes far away from the fighting.”

Nicholas walked on the porch and sat on the edge of a railing. “I’m not eager to fight in a war I don’t know much about. But there must be other jobs a soldier is trained for. There must be something else out there in the world for me!”

“I’m sure there is.” Maynard stood and stretched an ache out of his shoulder. “And we’ll discuss it over a bowl of stew. Now let’s go inside before my dinner boils away.”

Nicholas nodded and followed him inside, closing the front door to keep out the chilly night air.

Adelaide Cooper joined in the debate two nights later while seated around the dinner table in Maynard’s kitchen. Adelaide lived directly across River Road from his farm and felt it was her duty to keep an eye on Maynard and Nicholas in a motherly sort of way, though neither really minded her well-intentioned intrusions on most occasions.

“Bad times are on their way,” Adelaide said between sips from a mug of hot spiced cider. “I can feel it in my bones.” She patted Nicholas’ arm uneasily, capturing his gaze with her steel blue eyes. Adelaide was several years older than Maynard, but her short, thin frame topped with curls of gray belied the fiery spirit inside her. “What makes you want to traipse about the countryside all the way to the capital? Doesn’t the King have enough soldiers? And during autumn besides? I’m frozen to my toes thinking about it!”

Nicholas took her hand and gently kissed it. “You’re worrying yourself to pieces, Adelaide. I haven’t even packed my traveling gear yet.”

“Then you’ve chosen a day to leave?”

“Not yet, though definitely sometime before winter if I don’t change my mind. I still have to finish my duties at the gristmill and here on the farm,” he said.

Adelaide pleaded with Maynard to talk some sense into the boy. “In case you haven’t heard, there’s a war down south. What if you join the King’s Guard and then get tangled up in all that fighting and killing?” The war between the kingdoms of Rhiál and Maranac in the southeast corner of Laparia had been raging for several months. “Joining the army now is just asking for trouble, Nicholas. Why do you think King Justin has been raising recruits? He plans to step his toe into that conflict!”

Maynard dished out another helping of fried potatoes, onions and mushrooms onto his plate before refilling his mug with cold water from a wooden pitcher. “I went through those same arguments with Nicholas over the last two days, Adelaide. But to be honest with you, a small part of me envies him.”

“Now don’t you get any silly notions into your head, Maynard Kurtz. One daydreaming fool at this table is enough.” Adelaide glanced at Nicholas. “Don’t take that too personally, dear. I just don’t think you’re thinking with a clear head. With any luck it’ll pass by morning.”

Adelaide attacked the food on her plate as Maynard and Nicholas exchanged amused glances. Low candles in the center of the table cast a warm glow on their features. Nicholas observed the tightness in Adelaide’s face, distressed to see her worry. He thought it best to change the subject.