Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web - Volume 1 (34 page)

“After I closely studied and tested the sand and stones, I knew that the legend of the Umarikaya was a reality,” Vellan said. “The magic present in the beach items was of a magnitude that even surprised me. The spells cast on that island must have been created by several wizards many years before I was born.”

“What kind of spell was it?” Caldurian asked.

“A confinement spell, but unlike any I had ever encountered in my training. Some powerful wizards had been at work on Torriga.”

Caldurian was still a bit confused, gazing at his teacher in the shadows for a fuller explanation. “Why is this sorcerer, this wizard, on the island at all? Surely the children’s story of the Umarikaya is not a true one. What parents would send a disobedient child away forever, imprisoning him by magic on a faraway island? It doesn’t make sense.”

“The story is merely a fable, but it was based on grains of truth from the past,” Vellan said. “When I returned to the Valley of the Wizards after my first travels abroad, I spoke extensively with many of the oldest wizards who had not yet departed on their final journeys, learning as much as I could about the origins of the Umarikaya. I also researched the most ancient texts in our libraries until I pieced together as best I could the truth behind the legend.” He rose and walked toward the fire pit, a circle of polished flat stones that reflected firelight like glass sheets. He stood with his back to Caldurian, a silhouette against the snapping flames. “There
was
an adolescent imprisoned on Torriga. And though I could not discover an exact date of his confinement, I suspect it happened well over a hundred years ago.”

“But why? What parents would do such a thing?”

“Not the parents,” he said flatly, staring into the fire. “The young wizard was condemned by society, or at least by its most powerful leaders. You see, some were afraid of him, of Arileez. That was the boy’s name.”

Caldurian listened intently in the gloomy confines of the upper chamber. “What did he do?”

Vellan turned and again took a seat. “It is not what Arileez did, it was what he
could
do–or eventually
might
do. He was quite an unusual wizard with a strange power, a gift actually, not present in any other wizard, at least not in any that I have known or heard about during my lifetime in the Valley.”

“What was this gift?”

Vellan smiled. “I will tell you, but first we must discuss the details of your next mission. I need for you to return to Torriga and make contact with Arileez. Find him. Befriend him. Gain his trust.”

“What?”

“Fear not, Caldurian. I won’t send you back this instant,” he replied. “We have several other duties to attend to first before we launch our assault on Laparia. But sometime next year you need to make another voyage to Torriga and seek out Arileez and coax him to our side. Promise him whatever he desires. I suspect he will be bitter and angry at the world. You must stoke those emotions to gain his loyalty. He could be a most valuable asset to our cause.”

Caldurian sighed, rubbing a hand through his beard. “I suspect what Arileez would want most is freedom. How can we get him off the island through such a powerful confinement spell?”

Vellan chuckled bitterly. “Oh, it is a powerful spell all right, to most ordinary wizards. I, however, am a few notches above ordinary and am not embarrassed to admit it. That is part of the reason that I was banished from the Valley of the Wizards. And I’ve had many years to develop a counter spell to the one cast on the island. I will provide you with a potion that he must drink in order to pass through the spell and leave the island. Releasing Arileez will not be a problem.” He glanced sharply at Caldurian. “Only don’t let him know that. When you contact Arileez and gain his allegiance, promise that you’ll do everything you can to free him. Tell Arileez that you know of a powerful wizard who might be able to break the spell if given time to study it.”

“
You
.”

“Of course. Encourage his allegiance to me until he willingly offers us his services for his freedom. But you must also insist that you will help him escape regardless of any repayment on his part. It would be the charitable thing to do, after all,” he added with a hint of sarcasm.

Caldurian snickered. “I understand. Still, I must ask you something, Vellan. If you have already developed a counter spell, why haven’t you returned to Torriga and released Arileez years ago?”

“Because I know the extent of his powers, my apprentice. Who knows what would happen if I released such a force on a whim? Would he be a friend or an enemy? An asset or a challenge?”

“I see.”

Vellan leaned back in his seat. “But now I see a place for Arileez in my plans. He can play an important role and bring me such an advantage as I had not known before. But we must carefully cultivate him, Caldurian. I am yet about three years away from releasing the Enâri still asleep in the caves outside Kanesbury. That will mark the beginning of my return to prominence. So later next year you must seek out Arileez. That will give us plenty of time to introduce him to our cause and flame the embers of his own discontent to use to our advantage. Can you do this?”

“Of course, my wizard. Your apprentice will dutifully serve however needed,” he replied as the nearby flames grasped at the wavering shadows. “Your will is my own. I will seek out the Umarikaya and then one day deliver your potion to him. And that is all it will take to free him?”

“Oh, it will free him all right. And a little bit more.”

Caldurian furrowed his brow. “
Meaning
?”

“I will save the particulars for another time,” Vellan replied. “All that matters now is that this strategic move will repay our efforts a hundredfold. It is all starting to fall into place at last.”

Caldurian nodded perfunctorily, wondering what kind of peril he had just volunteered to confront on that deserted island. He laughed to himself, knowing that this wouldn’t be a task that he could blithely reassign to Madeline or Mune. He would have to do the legwork on this one himself, no matter what the personal costs. If he were lucky, perhaps something good might come of it in the end. He looked up at Vellan, noting the reflection of firelight in his eyes.

“Pardon me for asking again, but what is so special about this Arileez?”

The Fox and Bear moons looked on as Caldurian provided Arileez with the details of his dual assignments, one from himself and the other from Vellan. When he finished, Caldurian looked across the Trillium Sea to the distant horizon.

“Welcome back to the real world, Arileez. This taste of freedom that Vellan has provided is a mere sampling of the marvels you will attain because of your allegiance to our cause. I know you won’t disappoint.”

“Indeed I won’t,” he replied, gazing at the horizon as well, unable to see the Northern Isles just beyond for the first time in over a hundred years. Arileez felt empty and anxious at once. “I must be off now,” he said as he and Caldurian walked back toward the bonfires and the bevy of curious soldiers.

“Make sure to tell Zachary Farnsworth to be patient,” Caldurian said with a stern edge to his voice. “He is too eager to reap his reward before it’s ripe. Not the ideal person to work with, but sometimes we cannot choose our associates. I’ll make time and find my way back to Kanesbury by the end of next month. Good luck.”

Arileez nodded and walked away from the fires, disappearing into the distant shadows. Everyone on the beach watched with a sense of relief when the stranger finally departed. Caldurian then searched for Gwyn and Commander Jarrin to discuss the impending invasion of Montavia.

Caldurian marched with the Enâri for a few more hours during the night before stopping to rest, staying close to the shoreline. Commander Jarrin and his men had departed earlier, sailing eastward to rendezvous with the other ships in the invasion force now anchored above the Keppel Mountains. The wizard and the Enâri troops would meet them there to launch the attack that was set to begin at dawn four days from tomorrow.

Later the next morning as their march resumed, Caldurian detected a faint, familiar sound rolling upon the sea breezes. A tiny black spot high in the sky descended toward the wizard from the west. As he searched the skies, he noted the familiar shape of the messenger crow, Gavin, swiftly approaching. He landed on Caldurian’s extended arm, warily keeping both eyes on the mass of Enâri creatures marching obediently along.

“What news from the west?” Caldurian asked, sensing the crow’s uneasiness. “Mune had told me about your encounter with Jagga. I don’t think you need to worry about a similar scare with any of these others.”

“Still, I shall stay close to you while delivering my message,” the bird replied. “I need only one lesson in Enâri brutality to remember it well. But I am here on business.”

“What is it?” the wizard asked with curiosity.

“I have a savory bit indeed. King Justin is planning a war council which is set to begin nineteen days from today, the tenth day of Mid Autumn.”

“How did you come across this information?”

“I talked with Mune last night at the Plum Orchard Inn,” he said. “He received the message from Madeline, whose contact in the Blue Citadel informed her so.”

“Ah, the always useful Dell Hawks.”

Gavin cawed as if amused by the comment. “Not useful anymore,” the crow said, explaining how Dell’s services as a spy had been compromised. “He is now heading south to make his fortune off the war between Rhiál and Maranac.”

“Unfortunate. A set of eyes and ears at the war council would help us immensely. Still, I can’t cover every spot in Laparia no matter how much Vellan would like it so. I guess we’ll have to…” He slowly tilted his head, suddenly struck by a thought.

“What is it, Caldurian?”

“Perhaps this goes against my better judgment, but we may be able to place someone inside the Citadel. Whether he can wiggle his way in to eavesdrop on the council is a whole other matter.” He brought his arm closer to his face, speaking softly to Gavin. “I need you to deliver a message to Zachary Farnsworth in Kanesbury. He said he could deliver me a spy inside King Justin’s residence in Morrenwood, so let me put him to the test. Maybe he can repay me for bungling the business with the key.”

“I’ll find him at once,” the crow said after Caldurian relayed his instructions.

“Though I would have preferred Madeline’s informant. That will be a loss. But as long as the meeting with Commander Uta proceeds, things should go fine. Madeline and Mune are preparing one half of Vellan’s latest maneuver. I sent the other half on his way yesterday,” he said, referring to Arileez. “After the Umarikaya performs his task for me in Kanesbury, Madeline can have his services to enact Vellan’s plan. But it should all work out in the end.” He stared into Gavin’s coal black eyes, seeking confirmation from the crow to calm his worries. “At least I hope it will.”

CHAPTER 22

The Road to Triana

Eleven ships from the Northern Isles were anchored offshore when Caldurian and the Enâri arrived a day and a half later. The vessels, pasted against a slate gray sky, were crammed with troops, supplies and weapons for the battle ahead. Knives and swords had been sharpened, bows tightly strung and quivers filled with arrows, and spears and shields made ready. Scores of soldiers had already set up camp away from shore, delivered from the Isles days ago on one of the ships’ many voyages. A cluster of tents dotted the northern foothills of the Keppel Mountains like mushrooms after a rain. Lines of rowboats were beached lifelessly upon shore as crackling bonfires burned brightly in the late afternoon gloom. Caldurian was pleased with the sight, confident that victory over Montavia would be swift and with little bloodshed. When the rural population was faced with such an overwhelming force, the wizard foresaw little resistance. The capital city of Triana would soon be under his control.

He instructed Gwyn to find food and quarters for the Enâri while he sought out Commander Jarrin. A short time later the wizard found him inside one of the larger tents, huddled with the other ship captains while preparing their battle plans. A map of Montavia was spread out across a small table, illuminated with several candles as a salty breeze rustled the brittle grass outside. Caldurian greeted the men with a cool nod. All were dressed in long, heavy brown sea coats similar to Commander Jarrin’s, their faces careworn by bitter winds and a lack of sound sleep.

“We’re reviewing the final placement of troops,” the commander told Caldurian, inviting him to squeeze through the group and view the map. “Triana is located near the eastern edge of the Keppel Mountains, less than a two day march south. The bulk of our forces will be directed there. I don’t expect King Rowan will put up much of a fight when he sees our numbers.”

“I don’t think so either,” Caldurian agreed. “It is an aging population in Montavia. Many of the younger families have found a better life in Arrondale or down south. And since war has never come to this tiny kingdom in recent history, preparations against it have never been one of Montavia’s top priorities. It will easily fall.”

“And when this war is over, Montavia will make a nice plot of land for the Northern Isles to seize,” one of the others joked. “We need space to stretch our arms and legs!” A stern glance from the wizard cut short any laughter from the rest.

“Know that Vellan is looking out for the interests of the Isles. Your nation will be repaid for your many years of assistance to Kargoth,” he explained. “But first things first.” The wizard addressed Commander Jarrin, scanning the map. “What of the larger villages?”

“There are six we need to secure. A company of two hundred men to each will keep the populations in line.” He pointed out a few small fishing villages on the map many miles farther east down shore. “We dispatched a few dozen troops to scout out the roads around these villages as a precaution. Should anyone travel this way and spot our ships, we’ll prevent them from getting word to Triana.”

“Well done, commander. Will you be ready to march tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, at the break of dawn. On the second morning after that, we’ll begin our assault.”

“And did you bring the supplies for the Enâri as I requested?”

Commander Jarrin eyed one of his captains, a bald man with a trimmed black beard, who addressed Caldurian. “We have weapons on my ship and fighting raiment for your Enâri troops, sir. The armory smithies have fashioned swords and clubs suitable for their height. There are also crates of leather jerkins, boots, headgear and the like similar to our own, though everything has been tailored to your specifications.”

“Good. Make arrangements with Gwyn to have the items unloaded and distributed.” The wizard glanced at Jarrin. “Now, commander, if there is an empty tent, I would appreciate some much needed rest. I’ll see you before dawn.”

“As you wish.” He instructed the same captain to escort Caldurian to his tent before attending to the battle needs of the Enâri. When the wizard disappeared through the flap, an unnerving tension dissolved at once. Jarrin caressed his whiskers and breathed a slight sigh of relief, happy not to have Caldurian’s watchful gaze upon him. He returned to the map and finished speaking to the others, eager to start and finish this mission as quickly as possible.

Caldurian emerged from his tent well before sunrise. Thin clouds drifted overhead, casting a gauzy veil over the gibbous Fox Moon sinking in the west. The damp, breezy air smelled of the sea as it teased the snapping flames of the bonfires along the shoreline. Fire tenders patrolled the area in watchful silence.

Soon the graying campgrounds shook off the night as both the Enâri and the troops from the Northern Isles awoke. Breakfasts were cold and sparse, and provisions and weapons were swiftly packed. Some soldiers remained on shore with the ships, but the bulk of the men marched south under Commander Jarrin’s orders. The Enâri dutifully followed Gwyn. But every last soldier knew that Caldurian was ultimately in charge and that his word was never to be challenged. Montavia would fall by his design.

The skies cleared to deep blue by late morning as the sun drifted across the sky. The dry, grassy terrain was littered with the fallen leaves of autumn. Gurgling brooks meandering down from the Keppel Mountains to their right were crisp, cold and noisy. The sea breezes had disappeared as they passed through spindly woodland and stretches of wide fields ripe with the scent of rich soil and decaying weeds.

The troops veered eastward and the sun-tipped mountains retreated slightly in the distance. The first sighting of any major road occurred near twilight. The dirt highway ran north to south and the company followed it for almost a mile, at which point another road branched off to the southeast. Commander Jarrin halted and consulted with Caldurian. Here some of the companies would break off and proceed to the larger villages outside the capital. Jarrin, after studying a map, appointed three of his captains to the task.

“This road branches off just beyond that second hill, leading to the different villages. Surround and infiltrate from all sides, killing only if you have to. We want to occupy Montavia, not destroy it. Let the locals go about their business, but round up the village leaders and bring them to the capital city.”

Shortly after, three companies totaling six hundred soldiers and their supply wagons disappeared into the dim light and distant pines. Commander Jarrin signaled for the remaining Island and Enâri troops to continue south down the main road until nightfall.

“I’m pleased with our progress, commander. May we be as fortunate the day after tomorrow,” the wizard said.

Jarrin nodded. “I wish so, too, though it is awfully quiet in these parts. The distant mountains loom over us as if spying, and the still air bothers me. I miss the salty breeze off the Trillium and the crash of waves against my ship.” He glanced up at the starry sky. “After we take this kingdom, I will request a command back on the Isles. I would be too restless to remain in these lands permanently.”

“I, too, am restless,” Caldurian admitted, fingering an amber colored glass vial sealed with a wooden stopper hidden inside his cloak pocket. “Though unlike you, I am restless for a change in my circumstances. But until that time, we march. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must talk to Gwyn. Halt the troops for the night at your discretion.”

“As you wish,” he said, a stream of air slowly escaping between his pursed lips after the wizard had left.

The final leg of the journey commenced the following dawn. Two hours into the march, Commander Jarrin released three more companies onto other roads to make for the remaining large villages. About five hundred troops from the Isles, in addition to the band of Enâri fighters, were now left for the assault on the capital city. By early afternoon they were less than a two hour march from Triana. He halted the advancing column which stretched out like a brown snake weaving its way among the grass, rocks and trees. The bright sunshine offered little relief from a persistent chill saturating the air.

“We’ll head into the wilderness and take cover now as we make our way toward the capital,” he told Caldurian and his captains. “We’ll halt about three miles from the city’s edge before breaking up to surround the perimeter. We attack at dawn.” He eyed Gwyn who stood dutifully at the wizard’s side. “Your Enâri troops will make the initial assault of King Rowan’s compound. I and the remaining hundred of my soldiers will follow. Understood?”

Gwyn snarled under his breath, tugging at the snug collar of his leather jerkin. “Don’t fret, commander. My troops will do as they’re told. Worry about your own.”

“It is my job to worry about everyone, Enar. Now let us slip into the trees and move on,” he said, wading through a patch of goldenrod spread out before a distant wilderness of maple, oak, elm and pine. “With luck, this time tomorrow we’ll be feasting on King Rowan’s store of venison and ale.”

Before the first gray light of dawn touched the slumbering sky, Commander Jarrin guided his remaining one hundred troops and the Enâri soldiers the final three miles to the capital city. His other troops had departed last evening to take their positions around various parts of the city, waiting for the signal to move in. The commander emerged from nearby hilly woodlands, greeted by a few slumbering farmhouses of stone, sod and wood.

Triana was the largest city in Montavia, having spread outward in a lazy circle as its population grew. Thin columns of blue-gray chimney smoke drifted above log and thatch rooftops into the awakening sky. Candlelight flickered from home windows of the earliest risers. Soon barn doors were opened, forge furnaces stoked and bread dough on bakeshop tables vigorously kneaded.

King Rowan’s residence, affectionately dubbed Red Lodge by the locals, occupied the center of Triana near the Gestina River which flowed down from the Keppel Mountains. The long main building with a series of gabled rooftops rose three stories high, its base built from the redstone quarried in the mountains coupled with solid oak posts and beams harvested from nearby forests. Several smaller structures, including storehouses, additional residences, horse stables and a garrison, were laid out in the vicinity, all surrounded by a thick outer wall of stone rising the height of two grown men. The main gate faced south, with several smaller gates built around the perimeter. A series of oil lamps hung at various spots above the wall burned steadily throughout the night year round. Sentries guarded each gate, which were barred every evening, and patrols walked along the top of the wall from sundown to sunrise.

Before Triana’s residents had taken to the frosty streets, Commander Jarrin funneled his men into the city, leading them swiftly to Red Lodge along hard, rutted dirt roads past strings of houses and shops. Caldurian, Gwyn and the other Enâri closely followed. Vellan’s stone and soil creations were especially eager to avenge their forced twenty-year sleep on anyone. The pale light from the Fox Moon, three days past full, dipped toward the mountains in the west, casting a dull sheen across the rooftops and sky.

The trek to the center of town went uninterrupted until the inebriated ramblings of a man stumbling out of the shadows caught their attention. The stranger, who had just awoken moments ago in a pile of hay after a night of merriment in a local pub, looked up at the approaching soldiers from the Northern Isles pouring into his city. He rubbed his eyes and stood frozen in place, wondering if he were imagining the surreal scene of invading troops scattered before him. But the man hadn’t a moment to raise a hand or open his mouth to question his senses. He instantly fell backward, landing on the road like a sack of dirt, an arrow sticking out of his chest. His opened eyes gazed lifelessly at the shimmering morning stars drifting overhead.

Caldurian nodded in approval at the soldier who had fired the arrow upon his command. The troops then silently moved on to the center of town, arriving at King Rowan’s residence a few minutes later. Red Lodge lay still under the freshening gray sky, the sputtering oil lamps the only sound carried on a slight breeze. They kept watch from a safe distance, hidden in the shadows of nearby buildings and trees, making sure the way was clear. With a raised hand, Commander Jarrin dispersed his troops to each entrance of the outer wall. Gwyn, likewise, signaled for the Enâri to take their positions at even intervals around the wall, each of his soldiers armed with a length of rope tied to a metal hook, preparing to fling it over the stone wall.

Caldurian and Jarrin, who had remained back in the shadows with a handful of soldiers, glanced at one another. After Jarrin nodded, affirming his readiness, the wizard placed his hands over the tip of an arrow one of the soldiers had at the ready and whispered several words that none could understand. Soon the arrow tip glowed blue and burst into a ghostly flame. In one sweeping move, the soldier raised the bow and aimed at the sky, launching the burning arrow high into the air directly above the center of the Red Lodge compound. The signal was sent. The invasion of Triana was at hand.

“What was that?” a voice on the wall called out in the gloom. “Did you–”

But a moment later he was silenced by another arrow, as were all of King Rowan’s men who patrolled atop the wall, each targeted by Commander Jarrin’s best archers. Their bodies fell over the wall to the shock of any guards standing below inside near the gates. At that instant, the Enâri troops hurled metal hooks over the wall and scrambled up the ropes, climbing in seconds to the top of the wall like insects. Nearly five hundred of Vellan’s mountain creatures now surrounded Red Lodge from the top of the wall before jumping into the courtyard just as a warning bell clanged repeatedly in the darkness. The raid was no longer a secret.