Lordich looked up and out to the crowd. ‘You think you are guided by truth and justice. I say you are ruled by prejudice and fear. Beware; others will come to challenge your authority. Before you murder me, I have a final word for Dareth. Major, if you please.’
Jericho visibly sagged; he had hoped that this would have been over quickly and without the need to interact with Lordich. He turned and moved closer to the cage that swung slightly in a light breeze.
‘I do not blame you, and I hope to see you again someday soon, my friend,’ Lordich whispered.
‘In another life, perhaps?’ Jericho asked.
‘Something like that.’ Lordich winked. ‘Now, quickly, perform the deed. I tire.’
Jericho nodded and picked up an axe that was propped against the platform. With a roar, he swung the axe. The rope cleaved, and the cage dropped silently into the chasm, save for the rasp of the guard ropes as they followed it into the fiery pit. There were sharp intakes of breath, and a few sobs were heard from the crowd.
The major stepped over to the edge of the pit and checked that the cage had fallen. Convinced, he cast aside the axe and heaved closed a heavy trapdoor that would cover the pit when not in use.
He fought back his emotions and again turned to the crowd. ‘Brothers and Sisters, the sentence has been carried out in accordance with our laws.’
He hurried down the steps and walked out of sight into the woods that surrounded the clearing. He walked for a few minutes, stumbling now and then in the early morning light that barely penetrated the canopy.
He reached an enormous oak tree that towered into the sky and slumped against it. There he sobbed unashamedly. The tears clouded his vision.
Above him, carved into the bark of the tree, were the names Lordich, Jericho, Draken and Perindar. They each had joined The Brotherhood as young men and had over the years formed a lasting bond. Draken had been banished, Perindar had been killed in battle some months ago, and now Jericho’s closest friend had been executed by his own hand.
Several minutes later, he dried his tear-stained face and took out his knife, which he used to gouge the names of the traitors out of the bark, each slice like a dagger to the heart.
❖
Back on the island, General Jericho looked into the face of a man he thought long dead and felt weak at the knees. In the space of thirty minutes, he had lost his wife and regained an old friend.
‘How can this be?’ Jericho spluttered. ‘I watched you fall myself.’
‘You wizards of light still cannot embrace the idea of the dark. Dark magic is not something to be feared, it should be embraced. I accept both dark and light, and this makes me powerful beyond imagining.’
Jericho sniggered. ‘All that power and you allowed yourself to be caught.’
‘I was merely a novice then. I have had many years to master the two disciplines.’
‘So what? You want me to turn spy for you? That, my friend, will never happen.’
‘Oh, I know that.’ Lordich smiled regretfully. ‘I might have had a chance to turn you but for the fool Le’roth. Grief has a nasty habit of getting in the way of magic. It renders any attempt to influence your mind utterly futile.’
‘What a pity.’
‘So if I am not going to kill you, that leaves me with but one option, to hold you on the island indefinitely, or until I destroy your precious Brotherhood, at which point I may release you.’
‘So that’s your plan? Destroy The Brotherhood and exert your influence over the balance between religion and magic that we have fought so hard to maintain for thousands of years.’
‘Exactly. Rostha may believe it holds the power, though you and I know who truly rules the masses,’ said Lordich. ‘It is about time for a change to the way of things, for the peoples to embrace a new religion, one that has both light and dark.’
Jericho sighed and shook his head. ‘Poor deluded fool.’
‘It is not I who is deluded; can you not see a change has been in the winds for some time? You mock me, and yet I spare you.’
‘What is left for me in this world that I should be spared?’
‘I have not killed you because I wish you to see the birth of my new world. I stand by what I said the day you cast me into the pit. I do not blame you.’
‘Well, that’s good of you.’
‘Do not be like that, Dareth. I do not expect us to be friends, but I at least hoped we could be civil. I even hoped that you would join me in my conquest.’
‘What makes you think I would ever join you? I wasn’t fit to include in your plans so many years ago, was I?’
‘Would you have joined me?’
‘No. Not then, and not now.’
‘Then out of respect for our former friendship, enjoy your new home,’ said Lordich with regret.
Jericho remained silent as he surveyed his new prison. He had to escape and warn his brethren.
Lordich clicked his fingers at his closest aide, who scuttled to his side and received a whispered instruction. The assistant gave a low bow and approached Jericho, who was immediately on guard, although relaxed as he felt his bonds released. He rubbed his wrists and winced at the pins and needles that followed.
‘Dareth?’ Lordich began. ‘There is nowhere to run. Do not try to escape. I would hate to clap you in irons and confine you to a cell.’
‘I’m sure,’ Jericho muttered.
‘Your freedom comes at a price. You will be escorted at all times by two guards. You will eat, sleep, and ablute in their company.’
‘Am I supposed to be grateful?’
Lordich laughed. ‘Not at all. Well, maybe a little.’
‘There is one thing.’
‘Yes?’ Lordich asked with a raised brow.
‘How did you escape the pit?’
‘I guess I owe you an explanation.’ Lordich looked at the crescent-shaped visage of Er’ath’s sister planet Rol’as highlighted in the morning sky. ‘I made a pact with Death.’
‘What do you mean death? You mean the Death?’
‘Yes. Despite his reputation, he is actually quite pleasant. We made a deal to ensure my continued existence.’
‘What did you trade?’
Lordich cocked his head and studied Jericho. ‘Four hundred thousand, two hundred and thirty-eight lives for my soul.’
Jericho looked horrified. ‘No!’
‘The process began many years ago, and that number has grown, but no matter, they will all perish. Burning in a lake of molten rock is not a pleasant experience, yet, true to his word, Death rescued me, and I promised him the deaths of every member of The Brotherhood of The Wulf, bar one. You.’
‘No, you mustn’t, you can’t. They are innocent,’ Jericho cried.
‘I can, and I shall.’ Lordich nodded to the general’s guard. ‘Take him away.’
Rough hands gripped Jericho. He struggled and raged as they marched him away.
Jericho wrenched himself from his captor’s grasp. ‘Mark my words, Lordich, you will pay for this with your life.’
A club struck him on the back of his neck, and he sank to his knees semi-conscious. Supported by his guard, and subdued by the blow, he was dragged through the long grasses.
Lordich closed his eyes and then shook his head. ‘I already did.’
MORT’S PLAN
Unbeknown to Coinin, Marrok had barely moved from his bedside for almost three weeks, much to the disapproval of Matron Rod’lin. He had slept beside Coinin and talked to him almost without pause in the hope that something would revive him, and yet his brother remained asleep.
The last thing that Coinin remembered was falling into the fiery pit, before being snapped awake in unfamiliar surroundings. The whole place was magical if you could call it a place. There was no land or skies, just whiteness, apart from the oasis-like patch of the greenest of grasses upon which he sat. There was light everywhere as if a distant sun beat down upon him, and a solitary palm tree offered him shade. He looked about him and
spotted a river nearby, where a big brown bear was thankfully engrossed in catching salmon and had not spotted him. His instinct was to run, except the air held a musical note that calmed him and made him sway slightly.
Coinin moved off in the opposite direction to the bear. As each foot landed, a fresh patch of grass would erupt from the white, and then disappear as his foot left it. He felt sure that he had been to this place before. Was this the same location where an unearthly voice had shown him the key to defeating the enemy at the gates of the temple? The answer, he was sure, would present itself before long.
As if someone had listened to his thoughts, a ghostly figure in white began to form ahead of him. He stopped walking, unwilling to go any further until the figure turned to face him and beckoned. He felt compelled to do as bidden. It was a woman with long golden hair.
‘Hello, Coinin. I am glad you could visit me,’ the woman said. A sweet smile lit her face.
Coinin felt strangely at ease with the woman and smiled back.
‘I presume when you say visit that means I’m not dead?’
‘That’s my boy, as intelligent as ever. Our time is short, and I intend to use it to the full.’
‘I have a strange feeling that I know you,’ said Coinin.
The woman chuckled. ‘You should, I am your mother, or at least I was in the physical realm.’
Coinin was stunned; it could not possibly be true. ‘My mother has been dead for many years.’
‘That’s correct, I have,’ the woman said sadly. ‘I understand you will have some reservations, but be assured, I am your mother, yet I reside in a new plane of existence.’
Coinin raised a sceptical eyebrow, unsure how to respond. ‘A new plane of what?’
‘I am dead to you in the physical realm. However, my soul endures here forever. We are in a place between places, a spirit realm, if you please.’
‘I thought when you die, you ascended to Ædeen, the garden of the gods.’
‘A lavish tale meant to appease the masses,’ Godwen replied simply. ‘In essence, it is Death himself that determines your destination, based on your past deeds. Ascendance to Ædeen is not guaranteed.’
‘If you are my mother, then you will know that she was a hardworking, honest, God-fearing woman,’ Coinin began.
‘Indeed I am.’ Godwen smiled.
‘Then answer me this. If you are that woman, why haven’t you ascended to Ædeen? Why are you here in this place?’
‘Death has his reasons; there are thousands of people just like me waiting for their judgement from Death as to their journey’s end,’ she replied and threw her arms wide in frustration. ‘Do you know how lonely it is here? If your father is here, I haven’t seen him these many years, and that hurts the most.’
Tears formed in her eyes and ran down her face. At that moment Coinin knew that this indeed was the spirit of his long-dead mother. He tried to grasp her into a hug and fell on his face as he passed through her body.
‘I am sorry, Coinin, I truly am, but we can never embrace in this place,’ said Godwen.
Coinin did not say a word as he lay there in the white nothingness and cursed, as a patch of grass grew beneath him. Godwen was beside herself and tried to comfort him, although without touch, she did the only thing she knew. She sat next to him and hummed a lullaby that she had often recited to him as a child.
Coinin’s muffled voice called to his mother to stop; the memory was too much to bear. After all these years, he was finally able to say a proper goodbye to her. Although he did not want to, he wanted to keep this moment forever and let time stand still so that he might spend it with her, and then perhaps find his father.
‘No, Coinin, you cannot stay,’ said Godwen, who had stopped her lullaby mid-sentence.
‘How did you know?’
‘There is much that I do not know. Your desire to stay cries out to me. But you cannot stay here; this is not a place for the living. Besides, you have a brother who even now sits at your side in the hope that you may return to him.’
‘He will learn to live without me; I will find a way to stay,’ said Coinin, and raised his head to look Godwen in the eye defiantly.
‘Your death would crush your brother, and I would never allow it. Do you think I wish my own son dead? No, I do not, that would hurt me beyond words,’ said Godwen. ‘Once our business is concluded, you will return to your body and follow your destiny.’
Godwen had hit a nerve. Coinin jumped up. ‘Destiny! What do I know of destiny?’ He flung his arms in the air. ‘Everybody talks about a great destiny, but they speak in riddles and half answers. Well, I do not want this destiny, if there is such a thing.’
‘It’s not like you have much choice, son. Destiny is the predetermination of the course that your life will take,’ said Godwen. ‘You cannot change what must be.’
‘So you were always destined to die so young?’ said Coinin angrily.
‘Yes, I was,’ Godwen replied, and then looked away, sad.
‘Then I will defy destiny. I will look destiny in the eye and call it a thief who steals free thought and loved ones. I challenge destiny to hold true to mine, and neither will I follow the path it has chosen. I choose my own course in life.’
‘Son, you cannot go against it. You may believe you follow your own path, except it has already been laid out for you.’ Godwen sighed. ‘You must follow the wishes of the gods to the letter and not stray from that path.’
‘I simply cannot believe that. I am in charge of my life, and my own decisions, not the gods,’ Coinin growled.
‘Again you fail to see the truth. You are of course in control of your life and decisions. However, one element of your life is irrevocably set in stone, and all your choices in life, whether you try to go left or right, will ultimately lead you to reach your destiny.’ Godwen frowned. Her son appeared pained by this news, and she did not know how she could help him.
‘If it is the will of the gods that I fulfil my destiny, then I demand that they explain to me what it is because I tire of not knowing. If they cannot do this, then it is best that I throw myself into a volcano. Let’s see how my destiny holds up to that.’
Godwen was shocked into silence.
‘Why is it my boy always had a hard time doing as he was told or foretold in this case?’ the deep, gravelly voice of Ædelmær questioned behind them.
Godwen and Coinin whirled around to see Ædelmær smiling broadly at them.
‘It is good to see you both.’ Ædelmær’s eyes danced with joy.
‘Papa?’ Coinin’s eyebrows raised in expectation.
‘It is I,’ Ædelmær winked, ‘and not before time by the sound of things.’ He turned to Godwen and held her close. ‘It’s good to hold you again.’
Godwen looked her husband in the eyes and tears flowed. ‘I missed you so much.’
‘I missed you too.’
Coinin felt a pang of distress that he could touch neither parent.
Ædelmær looked up at Coinin quizzically from the shoulder of his wife and tried to make sense of his son’s reluctance to acquiesce to his fate.
He released Godwen and faced his son. ‘Did I or did I not teach you to always obey your mother, boy?’
Coinin looked at the visage of his father, his face surly. ‘How can I obey the dead?’
‘It is just as well we are not dead then,’ Ædelmær responded. ‘At least not until Death makes his decision.’
Coinin looked confused, and rightly so. ‘What do you mean you aren’t dead? Mother said—’
‘Godwen says a lot of things, but she missed out a crucial matter that you should know,’ said Ædelmær, and deliberately did not look at Godwen and her steely stare.
‘Ædelmær, we do not need to burden the boy any further, please,’ Godwen pleaded.
‘He has a right to know.’
‘A right to know what exactly?’ Coinin looked from one to the other in search of an answer.
‘We may never leave this place;
we will remain in limbo until certain events transpire,’ Ædelmær responded.
‘That is correct,’ a cold, raspy voice called from the whiteness.
The voice made Coinin shiver, and the temperature plummeted as the white around them turned a shade of light blue.
The air felt oppressive, and the very breath had been sucked out of him. His chest was tight, and he felt the urge to run. No one would have blamed him, for out of a mist that had formed a lone figure floated towards them. The newcomer wore the blackest of robes, with an oversized hood that hid the face. His clothes were old, little more than rags that flapped about him, and gave the figure a ghostly presence. Coinin was more concerned with the eight-foot scythe the tall figure carried and the off-white skeletal hand that grasped its shaft.
The creature, as this was obviously not a man, towered above Coinin and studied him with a slightly cocked head. The shadowed face was not discernible under the cloak, yet Coinin felt eyes searching his features, for what, he did not know. All of a sudden the creature spoke, making him jump.
‘You are not on my list, not for some time, and yet you are here. Explain how you have entered my domain,’ the raspy voice demanded.
‘I cannot answer.’ Coinin gulped.
‘You dare defy Death?’
‘I cannot answer you because I do not know.’
‘This is unacceptable. I will not have souls of the living enter my home uninvited,’ Death raged.
‘This is your home?’
‘Why would it not be?’ the creature snapped. ‘My appointment may require me to appear thus. That does not mean that my home must also be uninviting.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.’
The figure turned three times, and in wisps of black smoke transformed into the familiar shape of a man. ‘That is better,’ he said, in an effort to sound more human. ‘It hurts my back staying in that form.’
Coinin was taken aback. The hideous creature before him now appeared to be an average man of around forty years old, with long black hair, greying at the temples, yet still, the eyes shone red and appeared to resemble those of a goat. The cloak had gone, in favour of a doublet.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 16