‘Coinin, please accompany me immediately.’
‘But what about Marrok?’ Coinin asked, and took a quick glance at his brother.
‘I think you and I both know Marrok has waited for such a day for a long time. He will be in his element.’
‘I don’t know,’ Coinin began.
‘Rendal will have his back, will you not, old friend?’ Jericho said.
‘He could not be in safer hands.’ Rendal held his shovel-sized hands in the air and uttered a guffaw.
Marrok finished his swordplay and joined the group. ‘This is an excellent weapon, perfectly balanced. I’d rather preserve father’s sword. May I keep this?’
Jericho nodded. ‘Yes, you can keep the sword. You see, Coinin, he is fine.’
Coinin conceded defeat and clasped his brother’s arm. ‘Marrok, please be careful.’
Marrok merely grunted a response, happy with his new prize.
‘Show me the way, General.’
Jericho nodded to Rendal, turned and swished his way down a long white corridor, his cloak flapping as he went. Coinin had a job to keep up with the tall man and did so at a trot.
‘Why do you think Curator Menin wants to see me?’
‘She believes you are important to The Order, and so until you are proven not to be, you must be,’ Jericho replied.
They wound their way through corridor after corridor, ascended a grand marble staircase, and finally arrived outside the Curator’s study. At each side of the large wooden door, a guard stood ready. They saluted at Jericho’s presence and lowered their spears as Coinin approached.
‘Easy, gentlemen, Coinin is here at Menin’s request,’ Jericho announced.
‘Very well, go on in, she is on the balcony,’ said the guard to the right of the door.
Jericho pushed open the door and ushered Coinin inside and then closed it securely behind them. More guards and nods of recognition greeted them. The room, however, had changed somewhat. The usual bookshelves were pushed to the side of the chamber, and large flaxen dust covers were placed over the shelves that held Menin’s personal library. In the centre of the room, several dwarves huddled together around Menin’s desk to examine their battle options.
‘We have more reinforcements arriving soon,’ Coinin overheard a dwarf say.
‘Aye, but if she doesn’t use us there’s no point them coming,’ said another.
Jericho whisked Coinin through the hubbub and out into the bright sunshine of the balcony. Menin’s generals looked grave; things didn’t appear to be going too well judging by their expressions. Jericho stepped over to Menin and lightly touched her shoulder, and then whispered in her ear. She nodded and thanked him, and he disappeared into the crowd of onlookers on the balcony. Curator Menin stepped forward, gave a huge smile and grasped Coinin by the hand.
‘Welcome, Coinin. I am glad you could make it. This will prove to be a day of loss for all assembled. Although I feel, we have the advantage.’ She pointed at him. ‘You.’
‘Curator? I—’ Coinin began.
‘Call me Laliala.’
‘Laliala, then.’ Coinin had begun to feel left out of some big secret. ‘Why does everyone say I’m important? I don’t feel important.’
‘You are important because you and your brother are the last descendants of Soliath Wulf,’ Menin replied.
‘Why is that important?’
‘Coinin, I promise I will explain all. Right now, though, I have the battle to win. Please join the others and observe how a fight is fought and won.’ Menin’s tone was more order than a request, and this left Coinin with little choice but to do as she asked. He knew that there were more pressing matters to attend to, and his questions would be answered eventually, yet it did intrigue if not infuriate.
A great crash shook the temple, and spectators looked on in horror as three of the largest giants smashed their way into the compound. A sizeable hole had appeared in the wall that surrounded the gardens, and a giant stepped through the gap and over the rubble.
He immediately began to swing his club at any unfortunate that stood in his way. Elven archers took aim upon the orders of their captain, and let loose, only to watch their missiles bounce harmlessly off the tough leathery hide of the invader. A line of crimson-cloaked battlemages, the elite, cast a variety of spells at the giant, all to no avail. Menin yelled above the din. ‘Trip him! Fell him!’
A squad of burly soldiers stepped forward and enticed the giant to follow them. They threw rocks and hurled abuse at the hulking mass. The beast took the bait and tried to crush them underfoot. A small group of men lay in wait. They had tied a thick rope to a sturdy tree at the side of the central garden pathway, and pulled it taut across the path, creating a tripwire.
The giant roared in triumph as he trod on a hapless warrior and side-swiped a second with his lethal club. This distraction, however, was his downfall. He had failed to notice the rope across his path. His ankle caught the obstruction, and he tripped. He crashed to the ground and sent a dust cloud into the air that choked all in the vicinity. His forehead took the brunt of the fall and bled heavily.
The defenders wasted no time. Four of the largest men leapt onto the giant’s shoulders and pulled their way up the torso until they were at the head. They drew swords and struck, and pierced the skull at its base. The defeated giant let out a roar of pain and clambered onto his knees. He tried to knock his attackers from their precarious perches but failed. He was already losing his ability to coordinate his actions.
The troops, balanced on his skull, repeatedly struck until finally the giant’s eyes glazed over and he fell dead with a second deafening thud.
A great cheer erupted in the compound at the giant’s defeat. Though, this was soon stifled as a mass of ugly green bodies swarmed at them from the newly created entry point. Elven archers did their best to down many of the enemy, except the bodies were so tightly packed together that hundreds made it into the compound to meet lines of battlemages.
From his vantage point, Coinin could hear the roar of battle and witness steel as it struck flesh and bone. Arrows whistled through the air, aimed at the enemy below, and the whoosh and crack of spells intermingled with yells and roars, yet all the time his concern was for Marrok. He frantically searched the grounds for him, but failed to spot him. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and summoned all his strength to locate his brother.
He pushed the sounds of battle far back from his consciousness, and allowed only light to enter his mind, then focused on Marrok’s presence and sought his brother’s aura. He felt light and dizzy, as he seemed to leave his physical being and float above the battleground.
As he traversed the compound in his disembodied way, the battle flashed before him in a myriad of colours that swirled so intensely that they took on a tangible texture of their own, as they swished and curled around him like silken ribbons. The colours felt so tactile that Coinin was able to touch the strands. Sadly, to his dismay, they lasted mere moments and vanished into the air the moment he touched them.
He paused momentarily to let a giant pass by. He did not know why he did that; the giant could neither see nor touch him. He was sickened to see the giant pick up a horse with his bare hands. It screamed in terror as the giant proceeded to tear it in two and toss the pieces aside with the shocked rider still ensconced in her saddle.
The battle had become bloodier. Bodies lay everywhere. Men, women and goblins pleaded for help as they slowly bled to death from their wounds. The fortunate were already dead. For the moment it looked like the Giants would win the battle.
Coinin paused next as he witnessed a half-naked soldier held aloft by a group of goblins, who fastened a noose around his neck and dangled him three feet from the ground. Several soldiers were beaten back as they attempted a rescue. To show mercy, an archer stepped forward, drew back his arrow, and fired. The arrow hit true, and pierced the soft flesh of the heart and ended the soldier’s misery.
He moved on in his search,
and the colours became more vivid as he sought out his prize. He stopped suddenly, almost as if he had hit a brick wall.
He faced the pitted and hairy back of a giant, the grime visible within his deep pockmarks and scars. Across one shoulder the giant wore a thick leather strap, which had loops of leather attached at regular intervals. The giant turned slowly, and Coinin could hear it now, the screams of terrified men. Worse, he could see them, trapped in the giant’s leather strap, held tight by loops of leather. A couple of the prisoners appeared to have perished, crushed to death from the tightness of the restraints.
What would this giant do with his prisoners, and where was Marrok? Why had he not found him yet? The giant turned to face him, and then he saw what he had missed. There, firmly attached to the giant’s strap, was Marrok; his aura blazed a deep shade of blue.
Coinin’s heart sank. He had to do something, he could not let his brother die like this. Then it happened without warning, he felt as if he had been cleaved down the middle and his head seared in pain. In the blink of an eye, he was elsewhere and nowhere at the same time.
The place, if it was a place, was a sheer brilliant white and made him squint. There were no forms or shapes that could be seen, just a white nothingness. Coinin felt frightened that his magic had somehow backfired. Was he dead and in the heavens having failed to save his brother? He had debated this when a somehow familiar and yet unfamiliar voice rent the air.
‘Coinin, I know what you are thinking, that you must be dead, correct?’ the voice boomed.
Coinin gulped, unsure if he should answer. ‘Well, I had considered it, yes,’ he replied eventually.
The voice laughed heartily. ‘Let me reassure you that you are not dead, but you are in a place between, well, let’s say between everything. I have brought you here as I have heard your cry of anguish, and I have a task for you to perform.’
‘My only task at the moment is to save my brother from a giant’s cooking pot,’ said Coinin.
‘Then we have the same aim.’
‘Who are you? How can I trust what you say?’
‘If you do not, Marrok will die,’ said the voice solemnly.
‘What is it that I must I do?’
‘I need you to be brave and do the impossible. It may be beyond your abilities right now, though you have to at least try,’ said the voice. ‘Let me show you.’
A series of images flashed before him that seemed to make no sense until he felt what he thought was a white-hot poker that had been thrust into the back of his skull. He screamed at the pain, and it sobered his mind. Then everything went black followed by a pinhole of light that appeared in the distance of his mind’s eye. The light grew steadily larger, and then he was falling, falling fast into a tunnel of light.
Moments later, he was back in his own body and the images made sense. He shook off the disorientation he felt and steeled himself for the task ahead. He ran to Menin and grabbed her by the arm.
‘Coinin, what is it?’ Menin asked, her attention focused on the battle.
‘He has Marrok, that giant out there.’ Coinin pointed at the lumbering giant who scooped up yet another victim and sandwiched her upside down into a leather loop.
Menin did not look at Coinin or the giant. ‘I am sorry, Coinin, there is nothing that I can do for him. He knew the risks when he agreed to help. We are nearly swamped as it is, and I cannot spare anyone to rescue him.’
Coinin saw red. He again grabbed Menin, only this time more roughly and swung her to face him. He looked her deep in the eyes. ‘I am not asking, I am telling,’ he said, and sounded more courageous than he felt. ‘I am important to you, so the way I see it, assist me, or I do not help you.’
Menin’s eyes widened in horror, and she shoved him aside just as a boulder the size of a horse slammed into the balcony where Coinin had stood moments earlier.
Chunks of marble balustrade showered horrified onlookers, and a dwarf was thrown from the balcony to the cold floor below. A second boulder side-swiped Menin as she attempted to save Coinin from certain death. Blood seeped from a wound to her shoulder. However, she shrugged it off and stormed over to Coinin, who shook dust and debris from his hair. She roughly dragged him to his feet.
‘You, sir, are not so important that I should not throw you to the goblins myself,’ she snarled.
Coinin angrily tried to shrug off Menin’s tight grip, but failed, and stood as a rag doll while she shook him. He dropped his head and sighed resignedly.
‘I know how to end the battle,’ he said almost inaudibly.
‘Oh, you know more than General Jericho or I, do you?’ Menin fired back.
Coinin thought for a moment. Would she believe him or would he be carted off in irons?
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I have the ability to search out Marrok with my mind, and while I was doing so, I had a vision. I was in an entirely white space, and a voice spoke to me. I was shown how to save my brother and end this battle.’ He looked down, embarrassed. Even he thought he sounded crazy.
Menin gently raised his chin with her bloodied hand and looked him deep in the eyes. ‘I believe you. I have also been summoned to this place and told many things that have come to fruition. What is it that we are to do to end this?’
❖
Menin had assembled what remained of her elite battlemages in a semicircle that faced Coinin. He, in turn, faced the enemy, feeling small and vulnerable, just feet from the fierce battle. Archers kept the goblin advance at bay. The goblins could smell fresh meat and were tenacious in their desire to taste it.
Coinin signalled he was ready and closed his eyes as the battlemages behind him began to chant. They chanted faster and faster, and he began to feel stronger and more confident as a surge of power built within him. He had told Menin how he must defeat the enemy and she had formulated a plan. The idea had been to focus the combined energy of the battlemages into a single point, in this case, a giant a hundred yards away that wreaked havoc on the battlefield.
The chants grew stronger, and Coinin began to shake uncontrollably as he too absorbed more energy increasingly. He levitated, and his back arched, his arms outstretched and his palms facing upwards. His head began to swim, and he began to lose his concentration. Tears streamed down his face as his efforts began to overwhelm him.
Visible streams of light energy snaked their way from the battlemages towards Coinin. He absorbed each in turn, and this made him give out the same light energy as he drew its power into him.
‘Focus, Coinin,’ a distant voice in his mind called. ‘You can do this.’
The voice was warm and gave him an instant boost in confidence. He redoubled his focus, and after a few more moments, he was ready.
He concentrated his thoughts on the giant’s and pictured himself as the giant, hulking, clumsy, and oafish. He imagined what he had eaten for breakfast, what his likes and dislikes were, and then surprisingly quickly, he found himself in the mind of the giant. With a swoop that sent his heart into the roof of his mouth, he was there and stared out of the giant’s eyes feeling very tall and aggressive. The giant had temporarily vacated, and found himself to be much smaller in stature and now occupied Coinin’s body. Two soldiers caught the mind-swapped body of Coinin as he dropped from his levitation the moment they had switched consciousnesses. They proceeded to restrain him, easier now that he was no longer a thirty-foot-tall giant.
Coinin, now colossal and powerful, turned to Menin and clumsily signalled he was all right. He reached behind him and unclasped the broad leather strap that ran across his shoulder and held the giant’s prisoners. He gently laid the strap on the ground and signalled for a group of soldiers to come forward and release the captives. Satisfied, he reached down and picked up a tree-sized club, through which vicious-looking spikes exited at varied angles, and tested its weight.
This is going to be easy, Coinin thought.
❖
Inside the temple, Draken had not moved from the Great Hall. He contented himself wit
h staring out of a window that overlooked the battle as he waited for the moment to strike. Sounds of war filtered into the domed hall and a crash sounded behind him. A large boulder had penetrated the dome and had smashed rows of pews as it rolled to a stop against the wooden plinth. Draken’s guard lay bleeding on the ground beside him, a chunk of debris in Draken’s hand the only sign of foul play. Tossing the rock away he took his cue and abruptly left the hall.
He swept along a darkened corridor and bypassed guards who paid him no heed. He reached the grand hallway that held a marble staircase and wound its way up three flights. He took the steps two at a time and stepped aside only to allow stretcher-bearers to evacuate the wounded to safety.
The boulders aimed at the temple seemed to have had the desired effect. How effective the damage and distraction would be, Draken could only guess, though he hoped that it would allow him to go unnoticed as he slipped into Curator Menin’s study.
He deliberately avoided eye contact as he stepped over the rubble that filled the corridor. He need not have worried about discovery; no one so far had paid him the slightest attention.
He stopped momentarily and surveyed the damage to Menin’s office. Not a lot that could be recognised remained. Bookshelves were broken and scattered around the room, while books lay torn and shredded alongside equally damaged scrolls. The Giants had worked overtime in their attempt to destroy Menin and her generals. Draken was not interested in whether Menin had survived or not. He was after one thing: the Rose of Cerathil.
He would deliver the small and unassuming piece of jewellery to his co-conspirator who thought it would give him more power than any man could or should possess. This would free Draken to search out his own heart’s desire. He had only to find it on pain of death, and he knew from experience that it would be worn around her neck.
He clambered over the remains of the doorway to the balcony and peeked around it. Menin was there, in bad shape. She had been struck by falling debris during a second giant attack, and now she was laid face down on the floor.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 9