‘What of Draken?’ Jericho asked.
‘Let him go. Although he is treacherous, I do not sense deception in him,’ Menin replied.
Jericho gritted his teeth and snarled at Draken, and then punched the marble next to his face. ‘One day,’ he threatened and released his captive.
Draken stood stiffly and stretched his back. He allowed it to crack, and it eased a cramp sustained while pinned to the ground. ‘Maybe, but not today.’ He turned to face Menin at the foot of the stairs. ‘My dear Curator, I trust you are unhurt? That was a nasty fall,’ he simpered, a sickly smile on his face.
Menin looked at him with derision. ‘You may have passed my test. However, do not think for one moment that I trust a word you say.’ She turned to Nethlith. ‘Please take Draken inside, and ensure he is fed and watered. I believe he will need some time to recover from my efforts. Nevertheless, be warned, he is not to venture anywhere other than the guest chambers. Understood?’
Nethlith nodded agreement and grasped Draken’s arm, then escorted him inside the building.
‘Zaruun,’ Menin began. ‘Please assist me to the Hall of Seers. I have work to finish.’
Zaruun, her personal guard, offered his arm. She winced in pain as she stood and attempted to put weight on her left foot.
‘It seems my ankle may be sprained. Would you see to it that the healer visits my chambers?’
‘Yes, milady.’ Zaruun bowed his head and supported Menin to walk up the long flight of steps.
Jericho marched down the steps to see Trenobin’s body for himself. Something about this whole affair did not feel right to him.
At the summit of the stair, Menin turned to face the paradise she had called home for thirty-eight years. A change was in the air, and she feared that more than anything. A new danger threatened the existence of The Brotherhood, and it had to be fought head on if they were to survive.
❖
Draken lay back on a pile of cushions at the head of Coinin’s velveteen bed. He breathed easier now that his plan had thus far succeeded. His eyes closed and a satisfied smile spread across his face.
Marrok had watched his uncle from the moment he had entered Coinin’s chambers. ‘You smile, Uncle. Why?’
Immediately Draken snapped out of his self-indulgence. ‘I am grateful to be alive. Those goblins are monstrous creatures,’ Draken bluffed.
Marrok looked incredulous.
‘I could be lying there dead, just like Trenobin.’
‘Poor Trenobin. Will they bury him? I know I’d like to pay my respects.’ Coinin said.
‘If tradition is maintained then he will be interred at the first available opportunity. You will get to say your farewell.’
‘I don’t know what all the fuss is about, he was just a stupid dwarf,’ said Marrok.
‘Marrok!’ Coinin snapped.
Marrok shrugged and joined his brother at the window. Coinin looked out in the direction of the Cliff of Judgment. What he saw shocked him. An army of small green creatures had begun to form at the base of the cliff, and more descended with each second that passed.
‘You know, Coinin, I don’t know what it is, but I don’t think I trust Uncle,’ Marrok whispered.
‘I believe that we have more to worry about than him. Look.’ Coinin pointed out of the window.
‘I need some fresh air,’ said Draken, and stood. He grabbed his pack and stepped outside onto a small yet functional balcony. He closed the door behind him and rummaged in his pack. He withdrew his orb and held it aloft.
‘What are you doing?’ he said to the glowing orb. ‘This is not part of our deal. We agreed only to get the item, not this, a goblin army at the door. Only a handful was meant to invade the Sanctuary, enough to provide a distraction.’
‘I chose to strike while their defences were at their weakest. My plan worked, it destroyed their protection, and you provided me with the way in,’ the globe responded.
‘You used me to do your dirty work, to what end?’ Draken asked.
‘The destruction of The Brotherhood, what else? It is too late to cast the blame, you betrayed The Order and agreed to break the charm at the Cliff of Judgment. You have an equal share in this deception. Besides, this provides an increased chance of success. Watch for my signal, and you will know when to act.’
‘How will I know the signal?’
‘Trust me, you will know,’ the voice cackled.
A call to arms sounded in the distance, and a bell chimed a warning. Coinin heard shouts from the corridor, and he left the window. He stepped across the room and opened the door to his chambers and poked his head out.
A hustle and bustle of people ran here and there, and donned armour or carried armfuls of weapons. A young guard jogged his way along the length of the corridor and called loudly.
‘To arms, man your stations, the Sanctuary has been breached. All guards report to your stations. Brothers and sisters are to gather in the meeting hall.’
Coinin grabbed the arm of the guard as he made to pass. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Goblins have penetrated our outer defences; all Brothers and sisters must meet in the Great Hall. I think perhaps you should attend also,’ the guard replied before he again ran off and shouted his instructions.
‘Yes, but where is the Great Hall?’ Coinin called after him uselessly.
‘Don’t worry, nephew, I know the way,’ said Draken behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
‘You’re not meant to leave this room. Nethlith said so,’ Marrok reminded.
‘And you are better off seen and not heard, boy,’ Draken growled.
‘I think the fact that we are overrun with goblins outweighs everything else. I’m sure we’ll all be needed to join the fight before the day is out,’ Coinin offered wisely.
‘Well-reasoned, my boy,’ said Draken cheerily. ‘Follow me then.’
The Great Hall was the most magnificent Coinin had ever seen, so high that songbirds nested amongst the rafters. Their calls were faint, pleasant to the ear, and gave the sense of being outdoors. The glass roof reflected blue and red as a column of light emanated from a large well-like structure at the centre of the room. This must be the same light he had seen reach to the clouds yesterday. Guards lined the circular room between columns, which held a rotunda, filled with an anxious audience. The hall was cold, mainly thanks to its height, and decorated with friezes of battles won and fought. Portraits of long-dead Archmages adorned the rear wall of the hall. An air of unease hung in the air, and a hum of voices chattered nervously.
Coinin found seats amongst a throng of others. A door opened, and Archmage Orodor entered the hall to an instant hush. Coinin was puzzled by a noise that whooshed every few seconds or so, accompanied by a flash of light behind one of the columns. He turned to a red hooded figure to his left.
‘What’s happening behind that column over there?’ he whispered and nudged the figure. He was instantly struck dumb, and his mouth dropped open, as the most beautiful, green-eyed woman he had ever seen turned to him. A hint of blonde hair slipped from her hood, and when she smiled at him, he felt his heart leap.
‘Brothers and Sisters are arriving; they have come to hear Orodor speak and to strengthen our numbers,’ she replied.
Coinin recovered enough to question the young woman. ‘Arriving?’ he murmured.
‘Yes, a specialist piece of magic, used to transport people or objects great distances in an instant. Though not everyone can do it, and many people need a more experienced individual to port them here.’
‘Oh, I see, thank you. I’m Coinin, by the way.’
‘Lieutenant Reena Lifor. Now, if you don’t mind, Orodor is about to speak.’ She half-smiled and turned away.
Coinin sat back and permitted himself a moment to savour his few precious seconds in conversation with the woman. He had missed her name, such was his fixation on her beauty, and hoped he would find time to meet her again.
He was snapped out of his thou
ghts when a gong sounded and signalled the meeting to order.
‘Brothers and Sisters,’ began Archmage Orodor, ‘I thank you for coming at such short notice, and many of you for travelling so far. I am sure the rumour mill has told you of the danger at our door. Let me reassure you that we are in control of the situation. Curator Menin has drafted a defensive strategy, so I will now hand over to her. Curator?’
Menin stepped forward, her limp visible to all, and a few onlookers murmured. Menin raised her hand for silence, which was immediate.
‘Friends, I will be blunt. There is a horde of goblins interspersed with a number of giants amassing very quickly outside our walls. We can only assume that since the defences that have protected us have failed, they have found the way through the mountain pass. They are preparing for battle. Our inner defences hold for now, but they will fail. Our plight is such that all present are required to defend the Sanctuary; our very survival depends on it.’ Menin paused a moment to gather her thoughts and took the time to observe the tense crowd before her. ‘Generals, if you would report to my study after this meeting. Captains, get your troops to your designated zones. All those not assigned duties, please report to the lieutenants at the rear of the hall. Visitors to the temple are not required to fight and will be guarded.’ Menin looked deliberately in Coinin’s direction.
Coinin immediately jumped up. ‘I choose to fight,’ he said resolutely, eager to impress.
‘I too,’ said Marrok, and thrust his hand in the air, keen not to be outdone by his brother.
Draken, however, remained silent as a hundred pairs of eyes focused on him expectantly.
Menin sighed. ‘Thank you; your help will no doubt turn the balance in our favour. Friends, I have talked enough. May the gods bless us. For Rindor, Soliath Wulf, and The Brotherhood. To victory!’
The crowd cheered and rose as one with a scrape of boots on the polished wooden floor. They began to file to their stations or headed to the rear of the hall to seek an assignment. Coinin looked around the room, eager to spy the young woman who had snagged his heart. After a few moments, he saw her near a column surrounded by a small group of heavily armed individuals. He made his mind up and turned to Marrok.
‘Marrok, I’m heading to that group there.’ He pointed. ‘Are you coming?’
‘Where you go, I go. Besides, the battledress doesn’t look too bad at all.’ Marrok admired the polished steel of the battle armour.
‘Uncle?’ Coinin turned to Draken.
‘I will be right here. This is not my war,’ Draken responded with a bored tone.
‘It isn’t ours either,’ Marrok sneered.
Coinin looked disappointed. ‘Very well, Marrok, with me.’
Draken called after the brothers. ‘Try not to get killed out there now. Who will I get to look after me in my old age?’
Coinin gripped Marrok’s arm to stop his attempt to thump Draken.
‘He’s not worth it,’ Coinin hissed.
‘You should’ve let me,’ Marrok complained.
‘He’s annoying, and yes, there are times I’d like to put him in his place, though now is not the time.’
The brothers took up position behind an outfit of soldiers who intently listened to Lieutenant Reena Lifor.
She spotted them. ‘You there, step forward,’ she said.
Coinin’s face turned beetroot red as he and Marrok pushed their way through the group of bodies that surrounded the lieutenant.
‘Identify yourself, strangers,’ the lieutenant demanded.
Coinin was again overwhelmed by the beauty of the woman and left Marrok to answer the challenge.
‘I am Marrok Wulf. This is my brother Coinin.’
The group took an audible intake of breath and nudged one another, or whispered behind hands.
‘Silence,’ said the lieutenant abruptly. ‘Am I to be impressed?’
Marrok looked lost.
‘Well, I’m not. Others may believe you and your brother are special. I do not. If you are to join me then you will do exactly as I say, and only then will you prove your worth,’ she said.
What did she mean, special? Marrok thought.
‘My name is Lieutenant Reena Lifor, and you will do as I say if you are to survive this day. Got it?’
Marrok looked at Coinin, who silently mouthed the beauty’s name with a faraway look on his face, and had to be nudged back into existence.
‘Yes, lieutenant,’ said Coinin dreamily.
‘Good, now go with Rendal the armourer and suit up. You’ll need it.’
A fearsome man who towered seven feet tall stepped forward. His muscles bulged beneath his shoulder guards and held many scars. He glared down at the boys and then smiled big and wide.
‘Come on then, boys, this way,’ he boomed.
THE BATTLE
The scene of devastation outside the temple grounds left a lump in the throat, and rent the hearts of onlookers. The sheer destruction of the once beautiful grounds brought a tear to many an eye and fuelled anger in others.
Amidst campfires, thousands of goblins, overshadowed by four giants, prepared for battle. Ancient trees had been uprooted and honed into clubs by the handful of giants. They drove huge iron spikes into the ends and tested the lethality of each.
On the front line, goblin chiefs and shaman leaders issued orders to the rabble before them, their orb staffs glowing multitudes of colours. They were a deadly force, yet disorganised, and that was often their downfall. The old adage: ‘Too many cooks...’ applied to their military leadership. Thousands had amassed, alongside several mountain trolls and the Giants, and this was an unusual occurrence.
The invaders had formed a vast semicircle in front of the temple gates, and the roar of the horde deafened all in its vicinity. Several crude animal horns added to the noise and psyched the goblin army for war.
On the temple side of the gates, several battlemages stood deep in concentration, keeping an enchantment upon the gates, which was at present the only thing that kept the attackers at bay. These few men and women after years of study and discipline provided the primary protection for The Order.
The Archmage and Curator, alongside a dozen permitted mages, were the only others capable of tapping into the elemental forces in this manner. Their actions drained the mind and body, and even though the effects were often only temporary, these skills were used only in times of dire need, and in this instance, to allow the gathered troops to make ready.
A dozen goblins lay dead at the foot of the gates. Every so often a chieftain would send an unwilling volunteer to approach them. As the volunteer grasped its bars, a purple flash emitted from the metal. The goblin would spasm, endure heart failure, and froth at the mouth, to then drop dead.
Curator Menin had changed her clothing; she looked magnificent in steel and white. A red sash ran left to right across her chest, emblazoned with the temple’s emblem. She wore the Rose of Cerathil proudly upon her chest, and a sword dangled at her side. Strapped to her left arm was a shaped steel shield with sharpened edges. She limped from her study onto a balcony that overlooked the battlefield. Her closest aides and generals followed and took position beside her. To their left stood a grand stone table with a rough map of the area, and carved figures represented the combatants below.
Menin surveyed her troops. ‘Lieutenant General Torith, I think the left flank is weak.’
Torith looked up from his map, scanned his men and nodded with a grunt. He called a runner to him. ‘Send word to Captain Dalbo to move his men to the vineyard.’
The runner saluted and took off at full pelt. Torith turned to Menin. ‘My apologies, it will not happen again.’ He bowed respectfully.
‘See that it does not,’ said General Jericho tersely.
Torith returned to his map and altered his figurines to match his order.
‘He’s not himself of late,’ said Jericho quietly.
‘His wife nearly lost their first child during his birth. I think we can go eas
y on him,’ replied Menin. ‘Would you find and fetch Coinin for me?’
‘You want me to leave, now? I could send one of my men.’
‘No, I don’t trust anyone else with his safety.’
‘Very well, just don’t start without me.’ Jericho turned and left the balcony.
Inside the temple, Coinin did a double take as Marrok exited the armoury. He was clad head to toe in the finest of plate armour, and over this, he wore a white cloak that bore the emblem of Soliath Wulf. His head was covered by a red cloth wound tightly around it, and over this sat a domed steel helmet. He carried a long spear and a serrated sword in his hands, and he looked very pleased with himself. He clanked as he walked, though did not care; the armour was so well fitting that he lost almost no ability to move.
‘That, young sir, is armour cast in the very best elven forges; it has superior strength and can withstand virtually any spear or arrow. Nevertheless, be warned, do not let its strength go to your head. If one of those giants hits you with one of their clubs, it will buckle like any other armour,’ Rendal warned.
Marrok nodded that he understood and watched Coinin as he donned his own armour. His was lighter and consisted mostly of chain mail.
‘I am sorry we did not have full armour in your size. Yet rest easy, the mail is the finest the elves have to offer and will give you almost the same protection.’ Rendal clasped Coinin’s shoulder with a huge hand that almost buckled his knees.
‘Thank you, Rendal.’ Coinin coughed nervously.
‘This is your first time in battle, I think.’
Coinin nodded, a worried look on his face.
Rendal smiled reassuringly. ‘Stick with me, and you’ll be fine.’
‘That you will, brother; you’ve got me.’ Marrok beamed and tested the feel of his sword with a swish through the air.
‘Actually,’ a voice said behind them, ‘Coinin’s presence is required by Curator Menin.’
They turned to see General Jericho, who looked proud and dangerous. He was dressed in gold trimmed armour.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 8