‘Have you forgotten me so soon?’ Draken sneered and dropped the hood of his cloak. ‘Have I really changed that much, Laliala?’
‘This is Draken, the boys’ uncle,’ Trenobin said.
’I can see that. He is banished from this place. Did I or did I not forbid his presence here?’
‘You did, I am sorry. The boys would not accompany me without him,’ Trenobin said feebly.
‘Then he shall have to stay out of my way. We have much to do and little time in which to do it. General, please remain here. Trenobin, if you will.’ Curator Menin grasped the dwarf by the arm and led him out of earshot of the others. ‘You will keep that man as far away from here as possible. I trust you remember why he was banished?’
‘Yes, I am aware,’ Trenobin replied.
‘That man is one of only two members of our sacred order to have introduced dark magic into our midst. He is not to be trusted; he mixes with the wrong sorts of people,’ Menin spat angrily.
‘You will not know he is here, Curator.’
‘See to it that I do not. Fail me, and I will kill him, and hang you by your ankles for a very long time,’ Menin warned.
General Jericho glared at Draken, and he, in turn, avoided the eyes of his old friend and former military superior.
‘You dare to come back here?’ Jericho asked.
‘Why should I not? My nephews needed an escort.’
‘They had an escort. Trenobin.’
‘What kind of uncle would I be if I allowed my flesh and blood to wander these dangerous lands with a stranger?’
Jericho opened his mouth to retort when Menin swept back to the waiting boys and smiled. ‘I’m sorry I kept you. I had some final orders for Trenobin.’
‘That is quite all right, madam,’ Draken replied, and his eyebrows rose in anticipation of the inevitable.
Menin looked affronted that Draken had even spoken to her. Her features darkened a moment before she turned and smiled at the boys. ‘If you would follow me, Trenobin will make sure that your uncle is comfortable.’ Menin gestured that they should venture inside.
‘He will not be coming with us?’ Coinin asked.
‘His journey ends here. You will see him again soon, but first, we eat,’ Menin replied.
Marrok’s ears pricked at the thought of food and he raced ahead. Coinin, on the other hand, savoured every moment as he entered the wondrous temple. Besides the gold that overlaid the temple, the sheer beauty of the entrance hall was astounding. The doors were made of thick eaglewood, inlaid with bands of smooth marble and gold. The handles were placed centrally and shaped from the finest jade. The hallway inside was pillared again in marble, as were the walls, which helped to cool the room.
Majestic paintings adorned the walls and depicted diverse battle scenes in which figures dressed in white fought overwhelming odds. Along the walls ran long marble benches, and upon these sat white-robed men and women who talked in hushed tones. On seeing the new arrivals they stood, and as the boys passed, vigorously grabbed a hand of each and shook them until Coinin and Marrok had to wrench their hands-free.
‘Welcome.’
‘It is so good to see you both.’
‘We have waited for this day for so long.’
The greetings continued in this fashion until Menin ushered them into a room off a long hallway, and then shut the door. ‘I am sorry about that. This is a big day for us, and I promise I will tell all tomorrow, but for now, please eat.’
Spread across a large table was a feast fit for a king. Never had the boys seen so much food, all set out in the finest of tableware. Tureens of delicious fruits sat amongst various sweet-smelling dishes, while a huge boar head steamed in the centre of the table surrounded by dishes that overflowed with cooked vegetables.
‘Dig in, gentlemen. I have a few matters to attend to.’ Menin motioned to the table.
Coinin did not need to be told twice. He ripped a leg from the nearest turkey dish and devoured it. The taste was delectable, and the succulent meat melted in his mouth. He and Marrok did not notice Menin slip from the room as they ate, with a smile of satisfaction on her face.
It was a full hour later before Menin returned and her eyes widened at how much the boys had actually eaten.
‘You have hollow legs, I see,’ she chuckled.
‘What do you mean?’ Coinin groaned and rubbed his stomach. He had eaten far too much and now paid the price for over-indulgence.
‘Nothing, it’s just a saying. If you two are finished, I’m sure you’d welcome a warm bed. You must be exhausted after your trip.’
The brothers lit up at the thought of sleep and prised themselves from their seats. They followed Menin through the quiet temple, and it seemed everyone had retired for the evening also.
Glowing orbs of light floated above them and ignited individually as they ventured deeper into the temple. They cast pools of luminescence before them and then extinguished as they passed each.
‘I’m really beginning to like magic,’ Coinin whispered to Marrok.
‘I have a feeling we’re going to see more of it very soon,’ Marrok replied.
Menin had led them a circuitous route, via an upstairs corridor, to the front of the temple. A dozing guard quickly revived and saluted. Menin rolled her eyes and was easily forgiving. She knew full well how hard night duties were on the individual. She greeted them in return and directed the boys down the corridor.
‘That will be your room, Coinin.’ Menin pointed to a doorway at the end of the long wide corridor on the third floor of the temple. ‘Marrok will take the room opposite.’
‘Thank you, Curator.’ Coinin beamed at the thought of a whole room to himself.
‘You are quite welcome. Coinin, inside you, will find water and a clean cloth to tend to your wound. I don’t believe it’s bad enough to warrant a healer. Otherwise, rest well.’ Menin turned and walked away without a further word.
‘Thank you,’ Coinin called after the quickly disappearing Curator.
Menin merely waved as she walked and stopped briefly to speak to the guard in the hallway, who then saluted her as she walked on.
Marrok had already opened his chambers and stuck his head around the door. He turned back to his brother. ‘Goodnight,’ he said and stepped inside and closed the door.
‘Goodnight,’ Coinin replied and yawned. Tiredness had caught up with him at last.
He stepped into one of the most lavishly decorated bedrooms he had ever seen. Tapestries adorned the walls, and elegant drapes and shutters covered a small window. In the centre of the room, a bed unlike any he had ever seen rested invitingly. It had four posts and a dozen or more feather pillows. He stripped to the waist and wandered over to the window. He drew aside the drapes and opened the shutters and looked outside. Moonlight cut through the darkness, and he noted from his position that he must be in one of the tower rooms.
Light from a campfire outside the temple walls flickered and caught his attention. A dark figure sat and warmed by the fire, and he wondered who it might be. Then a yawn ended his curiosity, and he realised how tired he was. He closed the shutters and the wine-red drapes, and then he tended to his wound. He decided it was not so bad that it needed to be dressed; instead, he concluded his headache would go away with sleep.
He jumped into bed, and what a bed. It was the most comfortable he had ever lain in and was a world away from his well-worn cot back at his uncle’s home.
❖
Warming his hands by the campfire, Draken cursed his luck. He had not feasted at the temple like the old days. Instead, he had dug into his pack for some salted beef, which he sat and chewed with a look of intense dissatisfaction on his face. He turned to look back at the temple and noted a lit window in a tower room, where a figure silhouetted by candlelight looked out. He wished he were in that room.
Full of regret that he hadn’t insisted on being allowed into the temple, he looked away and sighed. He lay down on his bedroll and gazed at the night s
ky. It was then that a low voice whispered his name. For a moment he was confused, and then he realised the voice came from his pack. He quickly sat up and reached for the bag, and from within he extracted an orb that glowed a pale yellow.
An unearthly voice issued from the orb. ‘Is it safe to talk, Draken?’
Draken took a moment to check he was alone. ‘Yes, it is safe.’
‘Good, how is progress?’ the voice asked.
‘The boys are inside the temple under the guardianship of the woman,’ Draken replied and cast glances around him to make sure he was not overheard.
‘You are sure this is the only way our plan will work?’ the voice demanded.
‘I am certain of it. I do, however, think—’
A crack of a tree branch startled him, and he thrust the orb back inside his pack and then whirled around.
‘Who is there?’ Draken quizzed, on edge, his heart threatening to burst from his chest.
‘Trenobin,’ the dwarf said as he stepped out of the shadows. ‘To whom were you speaking?’
‘That is my business, dwarf. I do not answer to you,’ Draken snarled.
‘There is no need for rudeness. I know of your past misdeeds, and yet I remain your friend. I hope that you will not bring danger to the temple. I have been entrusted with the safety of this sacred place, and I take my task very seriously.’
Draken scowled.
‘What are you up to?’ Trenobin continued.
‘You really are a bulldog, aren’t you? It’s unlikely you will let this matter go, so I will show you.’ Draken again reached into his pack and removed a long, thin object that glinted in the firelight. ‘This is what I am up to,’ he smirked.
‘My sword? How dare you! That is a family treasure.’ Trenobin looked shocked.
‘Oh, it is more than a treasure, my friend, it is so much more,’ Draken continued, his voice taking on a menacing tone. ‘I have the means to obtain the other swords, and I intend to retrieve them.’
‘Then why are you here?’ Trenobin demanded, while his hand reached for the axe tucked into his belt.
‘Fool, I need help, and who better than Coinin and Marrok? You know the power they possess. I intend to use them to my benefit, and they will bring the swords to me.’
‘You cannot; I will not let you,’ Trenobin growled.
‘How do you intend to stop me when you are dead?’
‘The guards shall stop you.’ Trenobin turned his head to yell for assistance.
Draken was lightning fast. The sword that once graced the wall of the dwarf’s cabin now pierced the soft flesh of Trenobin’s neck. It crunched past bone and sliced his spinal column as it exited through his windpipe.
Trenobin’s eyes were wide as he fell to his knees, unable to utter a word. Air escaped from his wound, and his life drained away in a pool of blood. A gurgle in his throat and the odd twitch of his limbs were the last signs of life.
‘You have always underestimated me, old friend. That was your fatal mistake,’ said Draken coldly.
THE GOLDEN TEMPLE
The morning sun cast long shadows and warmed the cold earth. A chink of light passed through a crack in the bedroom shutters and illuminated Coinin as he slept. His wound was still visible, though it no longer bled. A loud rap at the door woke him.
‘Yes?’ said Coinin sleepily and stifled a yawn.
‘Breakfast will be served in a moment, Sir,’ said an unfamiliar voice through the door.
‘Thank you, give me a few minutes.’ Coinin rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
‘As you wish,’ said the voice.
Coinin listened to the footsteps retreat down the corridor and pulled back the covers and sat upright. He was stiff and sore, and yesterday’s antics had taken their toll. After he had prised himself from the soft bed, he took a few moments to splash water on his face from a wooden bowl sitting on an ornate dresser, and then gingerly pressed the bruises on his upper arms with his fingers. They would heal in time, although the goblins had done well, their aim true. He dressed quickly and left the room, and wondered why he had not dreamt that night. Perhaps the blow to his head had been severe enough to block his nightly visions.
He tapped on Marrok’s door and entered to find his brother already awake and halfway through a shave.
‘Morning. Just a second, I’m almost finished,’ Marrok called from behind a velvet curtain that separated the washstand from the rest of the room.
‘Do you trust these people?’ Coinin asked.
Marrok considered his response carefully. ‘Only until they break our trust. I think we need to see what they have to say before we pass judgment.’
Coinin nodded in agreement.
‘What troubles you, brother?’ Marrok asked.
‘I guess finding out that our father once walked these halls. It’s a strange feeling.’
‘I think that’s why we need to trust these people. If father did, then so should we.’
‘That makes sense. Although, I still can’t help but be worried that there’s something odd about all this.’
Marrok wiped his face and tossed his drying cloth aside. He appeared from behind the curtain and threw his arm around Coinin. ‘You worry too much, brother. I thought that was my job.’
❖
Breakfast that morning was delightful. Hot melted butter smeared over lightly toasted bread, slices of piping hot pork, fresh crab, and salmon, and a fruit bowl that held delicious apples, oranges, and grapes, all ready to be washed down with gallons of wine from the temple vineyard.
After the previous night’s intake of wine, Coinin in his wisdom requested milk. Beautifully warm milk straight from the cow arrived minutes later, accompanied by Curator Menin.
‘Good morning. How are we today?’ she asked. ‘Rested well, I trust?’
‘I’ve never slept so well,’ Coinin answered.
Marrok merely gave a courteous nod, his mouth full of salmon fillet.
‘That is good news indeed; we have so much to do today,’ said Menin gleefully. ‘If you would like to follow me, we shall start in my study.’
Both boys looked mournfully at the breakfast table. Coinin more so, his chance to drink his milk lost. They stood and followed Menin from the room.
She led the way through a maze of corridors, and at each turn, people greeted Coinin and Marrok in much the same manner as the night before. It became so tiresome by the end that Marrok indicated that he was not happy.
‘Don’t worry, I shall ask them to stop,’ Menin assured him. ‘However, I feel you will understand why they act this way shortly. Ah, here we are. If you would, please go on inside and make yourself comfortable.’
Menin opened the door to her study and ushered them inside. The room was quite a contrast from the rest of the temple; it was simple, even drab. several shelves held endless scrolls and bound volumes, and a small desk occupied the centre of the room. Upon this sat a quill and a handful of tightly rolled parchments. A candle burned steadily and lit a small area of the desk. To the right of the bureau, a wooden bookstand with a gilded leg and clawed foot held a large red book. It had the same wolf paw print, and sun disc emblem embossed into the front cover, and strange repetitive symbols decorated the edges in bright gold leaf.
Warm sunlight drenched the space from a window high in the room, and dust flitted in and out of its rays. The room smelled heavily of incense. It burned the back of the throat and tickled the nose. In front of the desk, two wooden chairs were slightly angled towards each other, and Menin invited the boys to sit.
‘Welcome to my study. As you can see, it is full of rich treasures. All I ask is that you be gentle with them while you spend time here,’ she said.
‘I don’t see treasure, there’s no gold or diamonds anywhere,’ Marrok objected.
‘Quite right too. The treasure I talk about is written in these scrolls and books. Knowledge itself is a treasure, one to be cherished like a precious necklace.’
Marrok looked at Curator Men
in with a raised eyebrow.
‘To me, these books are as precious as that sword you carry. They too can strike an enemy down. It is knowledge and information that wins battles, is it not?’ said Menin.
‘Yes, I suppose. We must know all about our enemy, including his strengths and weaknesses if we are to defeat him,’ Marrok replied.
‘That’s correct; these books are a valuable resource in our battle to maintain order.’
‘Maintain order?’ Coinin asked. ‘What do you mean?’
Curator Menin rose and clasped her hands together in thought. ‘Sometimes I forget myself. It seems I must start at the very beginning.’ She paused a moment. ‘Long ago, and I talk about thousands of years, the world was a different place. For one it was savage and mean, and young men like you would not hope to survive long. Often they would be sold into slavery or worked to death in mines. A group of people desperate to flee the violence travelled many miles in search of a safe place in which to start a new life. They settled under the shelter of a mountain, in a lush green forest, and lived there quite happily for many years. Then one fateful day, a band of travelling slavers surrounded their camp and cornered the terrified group. During the night, the leader of the settlers heard a strange voice call to him, and through sheer desperation, he investigated the source. The voice led him to a stairway that ran up the side of a cliff. Sound familiar?’ Menin smiled.
Both Marrok and Coinin nodded.
‘Under cover of darkness, and surrounded by the slavers, they quietly slipped up the side of the mountain after their leader, all the while guided by the voice. He led them to a cave, the cave to a river, and the river to a beautiful forest that teemed with life. Can you imagine the trust this man must have possessed to have led them on that journey? For many years the people lived peacefully in the forest, and all they wished for was at hand: safety, fresh water, and plentiful food. They could not have been happier. It was there that the founder of our order, Archmage Soliath Wulf, met them. That is he up there.’ Menin pointed to a portrait of Soliath above the door. He had a slight smile, and his wise grey eyes seemed to twinkle knowingly. He was dressed in the now-familiar white robe of The Order and wore a thin gold band over his wrinkled forehead. Around his neck, a large red stone encased in an ornate gold mount hung from a chain. The stone shone with an unusual intensity from the portrait.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 6