Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web - Volume 1 (43 page)

“King Drogin was a self-taught scholar regarding that war during his youth, curious about its origins, battles and heroes. This would have been admirable in most cases, but Drogin’s interest in the war turned into an obsession. Throughout his early adulthood, rumors existed that Drogin’s father, King Cerone, was skeptical of the young man’s fitness to one day be a leader. A sad thing, I’m sure, for any father to believe about his son.”

The two scribes busily recorded Lamar’s words as a rapt audience listened in the weighty silence of the chamber, the hush occasionally punctuated by the pop of maple wood burning in the fireplace or the dull clink of a metal pitcher against the rim of a drinking cup. Though the air felt warm and comforting, all in their chairs were wide awake. Even those who were familiar with the recent political history of Maranac paid close attention as if hearing the narrative for the first time.

“How did Drogin’s father come to that determination?” asked a guest sitting on one of the benches against the wall. “When did King Cerone decide that his older son should be passed over for the crown in favor of the younger Hamil?”

“Good questions,” Lamar said. “And though I only met King Cerone a few times before he died while I was an ambassador to Maranac, the King in no way confided those personal details to me. Only through a series of discreet conversations and private correspondences with lower officials–plus the occasional rumor or two–do diplomats glean much of the information we work with. Such was the case regarding King Cerone’s opinion of his two sons.” Lamar pulled another red grape off the stem and popped it into his mouth. “Before King Cerone died three years ago, he signed a royal decree stating that his younger son, Hamil, would ascend to the throne upon his death instead of Drogin. Well, this was not a highly publicized law for obvious reasons, but it raised quite a stir in the royal corridors in Maranac. Drogin, of course, was a volcano of emotions, claiming he had been denied his birthright, but most people in Maranac I’ve talked to over the years were privately glad that Hamil should rule them one day instead of his older, reckless brother. Though Drogin never settled down nor had the patience to be an administrator of day-to-day tasks, I guess what troubled his father most was the boy’s warped desire to take back Rhiál at any cost. The older Drogin grew, the more he talked about the possibility, no doubt envisioning the day when he would finally rule and make his dream a reality. But if that meant another war, then King Cerone wanted nothing to do with it, and so the line of succession was altered.

“Now there are many people in both kingdoms who dream of the day that Rhiál and Maranac become one nation again, myself included,” Lamar said wistfully. “Many stories from my childhood and old paintings recount the wonderful days of the great kingdom of Maranac and the constant traffic of colorful ships sailing east and west across the blue waters of Lake LaShear. And though trade routes still exist, they are few and tightly monitored. The free and spontaneous visits between the shores among family and friends have vanished. A deep regret still pains many in their hearts and souls that, because of long dead, self-serving politicians, a once great nation was transformed into a shadow of its former self. Most realize that if the two sides were ever to reunite and heal, a new bond of trust would need to sprout and flourish, though it would take time. And certain decisions would have to be made as well.

“For instance, which leader would rule this new nation–one of
ours
or one of
theirs
? And precisely where? The old capital city of Bellavon, marking the border at the southern tip of Lake LaShear, was divided in two in 677 as part of the peace treaty. Now Melinas and Zaracosa, the current capitals of Rhiál and Maranac, serve as the political centers on either side of the lake. Without answers to these questions, the two kingdoms will never become one.” Lamar plucked one more grape from its stem. “Unless, of course, a crazed brother tries to grab the other half by force.”

“And that, regretfully, is where we now find ourselves.” The wizard Tolapari’s quiet but sharp words cut through the subdued chamber. “King Drogin has usurped the throne of Maranac and is blaming Rhiál for the death of his younger brother, Hamil.”

“And the death of Hamil’s wife, too,” Lamar added. “King Hamil and his wife were returning from an engagement early this year. While on the way back to their residence in Zaracosa, their coach was attacked by a band of horsemen. The King, his wife and all their protectors were killed. Earlier that same day, their only child, Melinda, a teacher in the capital city, disappeared, apparently kidnapped or killed. Of course, Drogin accused Rhiál of her disappearance as well.”

“You informed me earlier that King Hamil’s guardsmen had slain a few of the attackers before it was over,” King Justin said.

“That’s true,” Lamar continued, “but unfortunately King Hamil’s men were overwhelmed in the end. After the bodies of the King and his wife were removed from the site, Drogin’s officials allowed observers from Rhiál, including me, to visit the area where the tragedy occurred. They claimed they wanted us to see proof of what we supposedly did. It was all a part of Drogin’s excuse to start a war.”

“What did you see?” someone asked.

“Many dead soldiers,” Lamar muttered, keeping a roiling anger in check. “Some had been felled by arrows and others with swords. The few attackers who had been killed were dressed in uniforms of the royal guard of Rhiál. That itself should tell you that the assault was staged. If Rhiál had attacked, why would we so blatantly announce it? But it didn’t matter. Everyone suspected that Drogin was behind the affair. Though he still lived in the royal residence at Zaracosa, Drogin was estranged from Hamil and his family. His denial of power constantly gnawed at him. Drogin only wanted an excuse for war to feed to the public, not caring how flimsy the evidence looked to us in Rhiál.” Lamar paused for a moment and took a deep drink of wine, feeling emotionally spent at having to recount the sad details once again. All eyes were upon him, eager to here more of the fascinating, yet dreadful tale. “But our suspicion alone wasn’t the only evidence to assure us that Drogin was behind King Hamil’s murder,” he continued. “We had verification of another kind, too.”

“Tell us,” Len Harold said, leaning forward, his elbows propped up on the table.

“Less than a week after the massacre, a member of King Hamil’s guard who had been secretly in league with Drogin, arrived in Melinas, begging for an audience with King Basil of Rhiál. Of course, the man was apprehended at once and questioned, revealing much about the deadly attack and kidnapping,” he said. “You see, the young solider had regrets about his involvement with Drogin and the plan to kidnap Princess Melinda as a way for Drogin to gain power from his brother. At least, that is what the soldier had been told was the plan. It was not until a day after the kidnapping that he heard of King Hamil’s assassination, learning shortly thereafter that both events had been orchestrated by Drogin. The guard realized that a new king was about to take the throne with blood on his hands, and that knowledge tormented him, especially since he had a part in it, however misguided. The guard fled to Rhiál the first chance he could to confess the plot to King Basil, fearing that war was in the offing.”

“Where is Princess Melinda?” asked an emissary from the nation of Harlow. “And who really attacked King Hamil and his wife?”

Lamar shook his head sadly. “Regretfully, there has been no word about the young woman for the last seven months. She has been missing since the third day of New Spring, the day of the attack. Whether King Drogin killed his only niece or had her imprisoned, your guess is as good as mine. According to her grandfather’s decree, she would become queen upon the death of Hamil, being the next direct descendent in the bloodline. Drogin needed her out of the way to take the throne for himself. And as to who the men were behind the attack? Well that, too, is a curious matter,” he said with an air of mystery.

“How so?” someone asked.

“When I was allowed to travel to Maranac with my observers to visit the murder scene, we closely examined the bodies of the dead guardsmen and their attackers, all still left in place where they had fallen.” Lamar recalled that cold, gray spring day along a dirt road near a thin spread of woods. A steady drizzle of rain dampened the new tufts of green grass sprouting along the desolate stretch of highway several miles from Zaracosa. He could still smell the scent of the fresh soil, pine and blood of that solemn afternoon. “And though the attackers had been disguised as soldiers of Rhiál, one of my men closely examined their corpses and later told me something in confidence. He said that a few of the dead attackers had been armed with daggers with peculiar markings upon them. Two of them also wore rings with similar inscriptions. Apparently the items were overlooked by Drogin’s men who had arranged the attack.”

Len Harold spoke up as he plucked a small apple from the bowl in front of him. “What was so special about those daggers and rings? What were the markings on them?”

“The tiny symbols upon the items were of seafarers and shipbuilders, probably ignored by most who only took a casual glance. But that one officer with me was a man of the seas himself,” Lamar said, “and such a thing caught his eye right away.”

“I still don’t understand,” Len continued. “Both Rhiál and Maranac border the vast waters of Lake LaShear. Ships are a way of life for many there. Why should it be surprising that some of the dead men had personal possessions reflecting that?”

“Because those particular items weren’t forged in our region of Laparia,” he softly stated. “The peculiar markings in question are indigenous to the Northern Isles.”

A flurry of whispers enveloped the room as several people consulted one another about the meaning of such a revelation. Tolapari, sensing that many people had the same question upon their lips, received a nod of encouragement from King Justin before raising a hand to settle the crowd.

“It is true,” the wizard said, restoring silence to the chamber. “Soldiers from the Northern Isles are in league with King Drogin of Maranac. That is what you are all wondering. But there is more to the relationship. Our belligerent Island neighbors are assisting Drogin in his war, but they are doing so through the manipulative hand of Vellan himself. The resources of Kargoth are supporting the war in the south and have helped to instigate it. King Drogin is Vellan’s willing puppet, seeing a chance to expand his power as Vellan pursues his own selfish ends.”

A voice in the back piped up. “How do you know this?”

“I will let our friend from Surna speak on that matter,” Tolapari replied, indicating a tall, fair-haired man seated across the table from King Justin’s aide.

“In private meetings earlier, I had consulted with King Justin and Tolapari about Kargoth’s pact with the Northern Isles,” the man said. “Situated on the eastern edge of the Northern Mountains, my nation is not far from the Lorren River and its tributaries. As early as last year, our scouts have reported seeing large rafts laden with supplies and soldiers sailing up the Lorren River from time to time, and then going farther up along the Gray River, one of its smaller tributaries. When they disembark, it is a short journey through one of the mountain passes to the Drusala River which flows down into the dominion of Kargoth. On the Drusala, the Islanders don’t have to fight the current which take them to the doorstep of Vellan’s stronghold in Del Norác.”

“So not only does Vellan have the Enâri, which he created over thirty years ago and continues to expand,” Tolapari said, “but his forces are also being bolstered by recruits from the Northern Isles. The ambassador from Surna also told us that a group of scouts from his nation had made a secret expedition along the banks of the Lorren River all the way down to where it empties into the Trillium Sea. They reported back that a ship from the Isles was anchored off the shoreline to deposit troops and supplies into the mouth of the Lorren, sailing unchallenged up the river all the way to Kargoth.”

“The few communities thriving along the narrow shores of that area are no match for any arrivals from the Islands,” King Justin said. “People living around the perimeter of the Dunn Hills are pioneers, accepting the fate of the wilderness. They are good, robust souls but without a single government encompassing the many villages scattered up and down the coast. They have neither army nor king and prefer it that way. If men from the Isles face any resistance, I’m sure it is minimal. They are staunch allies of Vellan.”

“And they are not Vellan’s only allies,” the envoy from Surna continued. “As my associates from Linden and Harlow can attest to–for we all live under the troubling shadow of Kargoth–many of the original inhabitants and their descendants living in the Drusala River valley are also loyal subjects to Vellan. But it is not by choice, as legend has it.” The gentleman lowered his voice, wondering if he should utter one of the popular superstitions in the Northern Mountains. “After Vellan claimed the region of Kargoth as his own, rumors flourished about how the powerful wizard had cast a spell upon the waters of the Drusala. Those who drank from it were instantly enslaved to Vellan, having an unnatural devotion to do his will. Many claim to have fled the valley to one of our nearby nations upon seeing the spell take hold of others. But whether these stories are true or not, I cannot absolutely say.”

“True or not, one thing is obvious–Vellan’s followers are legion,” King Justin said. “He will be a formidable enemy to face. Already he has a stranglehold upon the mountain nations around him. Surna, Linden and Harlow years ago essentially surrendered their sovereignty to him by conducting trade deals, taking bribes and accepting many of his advisors into their governments. Vellan’s subtle threats and occasional violent displays had much to do with the ease in which he wielded his power over the years.”