Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web - Volume 1 (63 page)

“Yes, sir,” the captain replied before leaving to carry out the order.

But before he had left King Cedric’s side, several harrowing screams shattered the night air, originating behind the huge boulders embedded in the plains. As the King spun around to pinpoint the source of the commotion, a half dozen dark shapes sprang out from behind the rocks waving drawn swords and rushing across the sloping ground toward them. A group of soldiers jumped in a protective stance in front of King Cedric with arms at the ready while several others, including Eucádus, drew their weapons and sped toward the advancing enemy. But a second before he left, Eucádus saw William draw his own sword, preparing to rush forward with the group.

“It is not yet your time to fight,” Eucádus said, locking gazes with the boy and silently conveying to William that he would have other opportunities to avenge his brother’s death. He then sprinted to the battle as William watched in awed silence.

A brief clash of swords followed and several arrows flew from some of King Cedric’s finest archers. In short order, five of the six attackers were killed and one lay severely wounded upon a patch of dry grass stained with his blood. While a team of soldiers spread out and searched for any more of the enemy among the rocks and knolls, King Cedric knelt down near the wounded man to see if he could still speak. As the man was dressed in clothing and armed with weapons indigenous to the nations of the Northern Mountains, Eucádus assumed he was a native of Kargoth.

“Vellan will be victorious,” the young man whispered as he gasped for breath, his eyes wildly alive yet somewhat clouded, unlike those of a normal man.

“But you will not be around to see it if he is!” one of the soldiers standing over him bitterly replied.

King Cedric held up a hand for silence before looking down at the dying man. “Where are the others in your party? Are they riding on to Maranac to assist Drogin?”

“Riding on to victory,” he replied with a strange smile, nodding as his breathing grew more erratic. “Just as our leader…” His head suddenly tilted sideways as his final breath left him, his skin turning as cool and pale as the evening.

King Cedric shook his head in disappointment as he got to his feet, but before turning away, he noticed a peculiar thing about the man’s face. The haziness within the blue color of his eyes suddenly faded while the tightness in his facial features softened as if a great weight had been lifted from the dead man’s mind, if such a thing were possible. King Cedric glanced at Eucádus who stood next to him.

“Did you see that, or is my mind playing tricks?” he asked.

Eucádus nodded, taken aback. “I saw it as well, King Cedric. It was as if lifelessness itself had left the deceased body, making it look more alive though it is yet dead. Does that make sense?”

“Sense or not, I agree with what you say.”

“As do I,” said another soldier who had been peering over the shoulders of others in front of the body. “If this man was a native of Kargoth and loyal to Vellan, then he may have drunk from the Drusala River. Vellan is rumored to have placed a spell upon that waterway running through Kargoth after he settled down in the area, enchanting those who unknowingly quenched their thirst with its cool liquid. Total devotion to Vellan’s will awaits anyone who mistakenly drinks from the Drusala. Death has finally freed this unfortunate man from the spell.”

“I have also heard such tales though never fully believed in them,” Eucádus said. “I am inclined to believe otherwise right now.”

“If that’s the case, then I’m sorry to say that perhaps these men are better off in their current state,” King Cedric sadly remarked. “But death is a steep price to regain their freedom. Slaves to a master and not even aware of it. We shall bury them, too, near the rocks where they were hiding. May they have genuine rest in their untimely deaths.” He turned away in silence to consult with his captains.

“I feel somewhat sorry for them now,” William said in an aside to Eucádus. “If Vellan cast a powerful spell over their very will, then what chance did they have to resist?”

“Apparently none,” he replied, leading William away from the dead bodies so they could be moved. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t bring back any of King Cedric’s men. It is a grievous wound he will not soon forget.”

After the bodies were buried and words spoken to commemorate the loss of the three soldiers from Drumaya, the army moved onward for a short while, advancing into another purple twilight. As the lustrous light dimmed along the western horizon, fiery white stars popped out in the east one by one. A sliver of the crescent Fox Moon closely trailed the sun, briefly appearing brighter after the glare of sunset had diminished before finally disappearing behind the western horizon as well. Before full darkness had settled upon the landscape, the army set down temporary roots once again, though moods were both somber and bitter as tent stakes were pounded into the hard ground and bonfires crackled fitfully in the cold night air.

CHAPTER 37

A Common Bond

They continued on the next day without incident, reaching the gap in the Ridloe Mountains near sunset. The splash of waning daylight against the dark, looming mountain range softened the stony guardians marking the western border of Rhiál. They still had over a day’s journey to reach the capital city of Melinas. Much of the land would be open and unsettled until they reached the interior closer to Lake LaShear. And since Drogin’s army currently occupied only the southern portion of Rhiál, neither King Cedric nor Eucádus expected to encounter any of his troops this far north in the kingdom.

By the end of the following day, they had passed through much farmland and several small villages, greeted as heroes by many though they had not yet been challenged in battle. King Cedric sent scouts to the capital city early in the afternoon to inform King Basil of their arrival sometime the next day. After enduring cold weather, deadly attacks and sheer tedium across the plains, the troops were anxious to set down an encampment, see new faces and talk to the people of Rhiál. Though many of the citizens they met along the road spoke eloquently about their troubles, most expressed confidence that victory might now be achieved against Maranac. The one constant in all the stories, however, was that no one could comprehend why such a tragic turn of events had occurred. Though the two lakeside nations were divided, it had been inconceivable that reunification would ever be achieved through war. Most believed the people of Rhiál and Maranac were not enemies, but only separated by time and mismanaged history.

The sun peeked out behind a slew of iron gray clouds late the next morning when the long lines of troops were only a few miles from Melinas. The air blew cool and moist, filled with the fresh scent of evergreen. Soon a contingent of five men on horses advanced from the east, two of the men displaying colorful banners that flapped in the intermittent breezes. One flag contained the emblems of King Basil’s royal house against a white and gold background. The other was the flag of Rhiál itself, containing several nautical illustrations in vivid hues matching the surrounding land, water and mountains. In the upper left-hand corner was a small rectangular patch of rich blue color boasting white crested waves and snowcapped mountains bathed in the light of a rising sun. That tiny image was a replica of the original flag of Maranac when it was once a single nation before war divided it decades ago. The current flag of Maranac contained that same image of a glorious past, as if each kingdom quietly held in its heart a faint hope to one day reunite in peace.

When the five horses stopped near King Cedric and Eucádus, one man greeted them. He had fair hair, shortly cropped, and hazel eyes set within a grim but determined face. “Welcome to Rhiál, King Cedric of Drumaya and Eucádus of Harlow. Your scouts have informed us of your approach and King Basil was heartened by the news. I am Captain Silas. I will guide you both to meet with the King along with others of your party whom you choose. But I respectfully ask that you keep their numbers few. The King has been quite ill of late. I will give you details on our ride to the capital.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” King Cedric replied.

“It is unfortunate. Still, we are honored by your support.”

“We, too, are honored to be here, captain, and are eager to meet with your monarch,” the King said. “It has been a long road but our purpose has propelled us swiftly to your borders.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “Now I will take you to King Basil while my men direct your troops to the encampment near the King’s estate on the lake.”

King Cedric chose Captain Tiber, one of his most loyal aides, to accompany him and left the others in charge to coordinate with Captain Silas’ men. Eucádus tapped Ranen to ride to the estate along with him and William, leaving Jeremias, Uland and Torr, the leaders of the remaining three Clearings, to assist with the movement of the troops to the campgrounds. Moments later, the six men on horses departed and galloped the remaining miles to Melinas underneath a slew of breaking clouds and amid the heightened tensions of an encroaching war.

King Basil’s estate was a modest three-story building of white clay and stone, surrounded by a low wall of colorful round rocks and gray mortar. Several trees dotted the landscape situated less than a quarter mile from the western shore of Lake LaShear. The wooden docks extending from the shoreline were cluttered with dozens of small vessels while several larger sailing ships sat anchored offshore, their vacant masts and wind-tossed rigging appearing skeletal against the cloudy skies.

Captain Silas escorted his guests from the stables where they left their horses to the guarded front doors of the estate. William inhaled a draft off the water, closing his eyes for a moment as they walked across the grassy compound, enjoying the cold quiet of the enormous lake. The distant call of sea gulls and the steady wash of waves upon the shore punctuated the breezy atmosphere. Gentle trails of bluish-gray smoke rose from a series of round, white chimneys along the rooftop. All of the shuttered windows were outlined around their edges with intricate designs in dark blue reminiscent of the background color in Maranac’s original flag. A larger copy of Rhiál’s current flag was suspended lengthwise from one of the upper windows of the estate, the material gently undulating in the draft. After entering, they ascended a spiral staircase to a second floor room on the northeast corner of the estate. A sentry stood watch at the door and greeted Captain Silas with a nod.

“The minister of finance departed minutes ago, captain, and had said that the King was finishing his lunch while they talked,” the guard reported.

“Very good,” Captain Silas replied as he knocked before opening the door and leading his guests inside.

The large, shadowy room was dimly lit by streams of dull light flowing in from two windows, one on the east side facing the lake and the other on the north end with a view of the distant hills. Low flames crackled in a fireplace on the west side. A large canopied bed in the corner between the two windows appeared hastily made. King Basil sat in an upholstered chair nearby, his half empty lunch dishes next to him on a small table. The King was dressed in a long, woolen robe over his clothes, and though he appeared frail and his face looked pallid and his eyes tired, he greeted his visitors with a smile as he carefully stood to shake each of their hands. With an effort, he then sat his tall frame down again and sighed.

“Forgive me for appearing as if I had just awakened, but it is not too far from the truth,” King Basil replied with a laugh, combing a hand through his unruly graying hair. “I am taking more rest lately than is probably the mark of a good king, but as I instructed Silas to inform you on your ride over, my heart is not that of a young man anymore. And not a particularly good heart for this older man either,” he said with a knowing grin. “But my physician says rest, so I rest.”

“You should trust your doctor,” King Cedric replied with a kind smile.

“I fear that one of these days while I’m at rest, I shall remain at rest–permanently!” King Basil laughed again, offering his counterpart the chair opposite his lunch table. “Please sit.”

“Thank you,” King Cedric said, taking the seat. King Basil directed the others to pull up the wooden chairs lined along one wall.

“Someone will be here shortly to remove these dishes. I’ll have them prepare everyone a proper meal after such a long journey,” the King said. “I was overwhelmed with joy when your scouts arrived yesterday with news that aid was coming out of Drumaya and the Northern Mountains. Now I must alter my plans for our next–and most likely final–military move, but that is a good thing. King Justin of Arrondale also sent scouts with word that he is coming, but the timing of his arrival is not fixed.”

“He has done much to stir the passions against Vellan, raising two armies at once,” King Cedric said. “And though I was loath to follow his lead initially, I now see the wisdom of his actions. But my friends, Eucádus and Ranen, have known the wise path all along.”

“I suspected that it was the wise path, King Cedric, but some days I feel as if I know very little,” Eucádus replied. “But now we all walk upon this same path and that is all that matters, is it not?”

“Indeed,” King Basil replied, clasping his hands together. “We will have a fight ahead of us, and that is what I wish to discuss. There is something in the works, and now with your added numbers, we’ll have a better chance for success. I fear this is our last and best opportunity to end the war or be consumed by it.” He paused for a moment, his eyes misting. All could see that some draining emotion had suddenly overwhelmed him. “My only two sons have already fallen to the wretchedness of this conflict. Morton, my oldest, was killed in a battle down south about three months ago. My heart nearly gave out then when his body was brought back exactly two months to the day after my other son was reported missing.”

“What happened to him, sir?” William softly asked after offering his condolences, seeing the loss of his brother mirrored in the King’s words and expression.

“After several minor attacks on our docks one week in New Summer, we responded with a surprise raid on the other side of the lake near Zaracosa, Maranac’s capital. Victor, my younger son, led one of the raiding parties. And though we had a partial success in destroying some of the enemy’s ships and weapon stores, it came at a heavy price. There were many dead, wounded and missing. Victor was one of the latter, and so for five months I have not known the fate of my son, my only heir should by some miracle he still be alive upon my death.” King Basil shrugged, choking up. “Though I try not to despair, I find it difficult not to resign myself to the probability that he is dead and that his body will never be recovered. But such is the price that those who make war must often bear.”

“But this war was brought to you, King Basil. It is Drogin who is responsible for all who have perished in the conflict,” Eucádus said. “I’ll not dignify his abysmal rule by giving him the title of
king
.”

“Many do not,” King Basil replied, “as they see him as a false king, a usurper.”

“But one with power,” King Cedric reminded them. “So what are we to do?”

“We make an all-out assault on Maranac before it can bring down a final crushing weight upon us,” King Basil said with a sudden gleam in his eyes. He leaned forward, almost whispering. “We are privy to some valuable information from behind enemy lines that we must act upon soon, near dawn, five days from tomorrow.”

“How did you come by it?” Eucádus asked. “And is it reliable?”

King Basil nodded confidently. “Very much so. But first you must understand that as powerful as Drogin is, his core support is thin. He may rule Maranac, but he has not earned the devotion of a large majority of his people. Many suspected that he seized power at the beginning of the year and was behind the murder of King Hamil, his younger brother. His desire for absolute power became clearer when he replaced many of his captains and political advisors with men close to him but with little knowledge of military affairs and matters of state. He even recruited men from the Northern Isles to mix in among his troops and lead most of his companies. Their loyalty is to Drogin alone, not to Maranac. And Drogin’s loyalty is to himself and the power he can amass.”

Eucádus informed King Basil how troops from the Northern Isles had invaded Montavia, telling him of William’s escape from the kingdom with his brother. The King was distraught by the news, yet was more saddened still after William recounted Brendan’s death. Now more than ever, King Basil was determined to stop Drogin and his allies before they could spread their poison any further.

“After the war started, some men within the Maranac army were distraught by what Drogin was doing,” King Basil continued. “They hadn’t the power to stop him though, as many were demoted or summarily discharged as Drogin consolidated power. Still, a small cabal managed to get word to us that an opposition group called the Hamilod Resistance was forming, though it was slow going and overly cautious. On two different occasions, word was sent to me through intermediaries about upcoming attacks that Drogin had planned in our southern provinces. I was able to send reinforcements to one engagement just in time. I moved my people to safety on the other occasion as we would have been vastly outnumbered. Those two instances saved many lives and kept Drogin off balance, though our other defeats have been numerous. Still, I have no reason to doubt the new information I received eight days ago from the resistance.”

“What does Drogin have planned?” King Cedric asked.

“I’ll give you a condensed version before you have a proper meal,” King Basil replied, his breathing labored. He paused, taking a sip of water from a metal cup on the table. “Captain Silas will go over the particulars later as we refine our strategy. But according to our sources, Drogin plans to attack us on two separate fronts at dawn, seven days from tomorrow. One part of his army is supposed to storm our docks visible from this window with a fleet sailing across the water. Another band of soldiers will march up the coast to Melinas from Drogin’s stronghold in our southern provinces.” The King took a second sip of water and leaned back in his chair, visibly tired. “But we plan to beat him to the punch.”