‘Why do I need to go?’ Coinin asked wearily. He was tired of being pushed from pillar to post.
‘I know that the Archmage will wish to speak with you, and more so considering the importance of your message,’ Menin replied.
Coinin held Menin’s hand lightly and observed a sound that hung in the air and resembled a hum, quiet at first, then gradually grew louder. A bright white light appeared ahead of him and formed a ball of intense brilliance. A rush of air and the room seemed to fold in on itself to form a tunnel of swirling luminescence. Together, Menin and Coinin were sucked into the vortex headfirst. Coinin felt dizzy as he whirled around the tunnel of light, his body contorted and elongated to unimaginable proportions. The sensation did not last long, however, before Menin and he landed on soft grass with a bump.
It took a moment for his senses to attune to the new surroundings. He retched and evacuated his stomach contents, to a chuckle from Menin. She clapped him on the back whilst he bent double, his hands on his knees.
‘That always happens the first time. You will get used to it.’
Coinin looked at her like she was crazy, then something new overwhelmed him. He realised now how quiet it was, tranquil he thought. He felt an inner peace wash over him like a tide, and all his worries and cares seemed to fade into nothingness. A sweet smell of honey seemed to permeate the air, and in the distance, songbirds uttered a multitude of morning calls.
He had not noticed until now that a figure a few feet away, clad in brilliant white, sat cross-legged and watched the morning sun rise.
He and Menin had appeared on top of a cliff that overlooked a glassy sea. The sun in the west cast long shadows wherever it met an obstacle.
Coinin was surprised to see that the figure in white had an odd addition to his shadow, what appeared to be a set of majestic open wings. Yet, when he looked at the physical presence, no such appendage existed.
Coinin sensed this man was special, a spiritual being of significant importance.
The Archmage turned and faced Coinin with his head cocked. He wore a hood that cast a dark shadow and hid his face from view.
‘Please join me,’ said Archmage Orodor softly with a pat of the lush green grass at his side.
Curator Menin beat Coinin to it and made herself comfortable beside Orodor. She turned and nodded at Coinin, and then indicated he should do as asked.
He sat next to Orodor, who turned to face him and dropped his hood. There sat not an old man but a boy of roughly twelve. The beard had gone, as had the wrinkled prune of a face. Instead, the prepubescent boy stared back at him.
The boy mage swept long blonde hair out of his eyes with a smooth young hand and smiled at Coinin with pearly white teeth.
‘Archmage Orodor?’ Coinin asked, and looked from Menin to the boy, confused.
‘You seem somewhat perplexed; here moments ago I was an old man at the end of my life, now I am what you see before you,’ Orodor chuckled.
‘I admit I’m surprised, and I confess, puzzled.’
‘If you were not, I would warrant that you were as wise as the gods themselves,’ Orodor said. ‘I have reached the end of my physical life—’
‘You are dead?’ Coinin interrupted and received a stern look from Menin.
‘Death has such a finality to it. I prefer to think of my passing as a new adventure as if one were stepping through an unfamiliar door. This is my reward for service, to spend eternity gazing upon the beautiful vista before you, never wanting or needing for anything as long as I choose to. Should I wish it, I would be welcome to reside with the gods. However, I thought I would give it at least a couple of millennia before deciding my next journey. My role now is to watch over the peoples on the troublesome rock called Er’ath. I am to act as a go-between for the gods and the new Archmage, Menin.’ Orodor turned and smiled warmly at her.
Menin had a tear in her eye, and it was evident she had no idea Orodor had passed to his new existence so suddenly and without the usual preparations. ‘Brother Orodor, you will be missed so. It will be difficult to tell the others.’
‘Let my passing not hurt so, sister, you will see me regularly on your visits. I have now replaced Archmage Turlock in this role. She has taken leave to reside with the gods. This has been the way for millennia,’ Orodor continued, grasping Menin’s arm fondly, ‘and no doubt will remain so for millennia to come.’
‘It is hard to say goodbye.’ Menin sniffed.
‘Do not fret; I am in a better place.’ Orodor smiled. ‘Besides, you will have the opportunity to bury my body in the temple grounds.’
‘So there is a better life after death than the one I witnessed with my parents,’ Coinin mused.
‘Not only better but considerably more rewarding.’
‘Why am I here, Archmage?’
Orodor pondered his response a moment. ‘I must enlighten you of a task set before you.’
‘Listen, I don’t want any more tasks, I just want to go home.’
‘As did I when I received the Office of Archmage, but the gods were kind and showed me the path my life would take in a vision. In fact, it led right up to this point.’
‘You knew when you would be talking to me, now, on this hill?’ Coinin asked disbelievingly.
‘I didn’t know the day or the hour, though I sensed it was drawing closer. That kind of happens when you get to my age. I have to say, you do bear a remarkable resemblance to the boy in my vision.’
‘This task? Is it destiny again?’
‘Ah yes, the greatest of all annoyances. The eternal battle between choice and what is foretold. It is not my favourite of subjects. I hear you too despise it?’
‘It’s all I’ve heard since meeting up with you people, and yes, it is quite annoying,’ said Coinin, perhaps a little too snappily.
‘Honest to the core, I like this boy. That is why I am not going to talk to you about your destiny, but that of Er’ath. You see, the world does revolve, day to night, and the sun rises and sets without fail, yet who controls these things? Not the races of this land, but the gods. Hence why you are here. They have seen fit to invite you into their presence so that you may know how you can best serve them.’
‘The gods are here?’ Coinin looked worried.
‘Not quite. I, as their representative, speak for them now.’ Orodor smiled. ‘The wish of the gods is that you take the Office of Curator at The Brotherhood of The Wulf temple, and lead our forces in the war against all who try to defile her.’
‘Laliala already asked me to be Curator. I’m not sure about that,’ Coinin confessed.
A look of disappointment passed over Orodor’s eyes, not for Coinin, but for Laliala. ‘You told him?’
‘It was the only way I could shut him up.’
Orodor laughed out loud and stood up, and then began to pace in front of Coinin.
‘What am I going to do with you? The simple truth is, you and your brother are, by my calculations, the last in the line of a once great and noble family. Coupled with that greatness is responsibility. You see, each of the four houses of Rostha, has, or had, a duty to protect Rosthagaar and the lands that surrounded her from all manner of troubles. Unfortunately, High King Hantestum of Rosthagaar has defied the gods, and they are understandably angry.’
Orodor went on to recount a tale of the God Rindor who had restored peace to the land thousands of years ago, and the creation of a new rulership, which, alongside The Brotherhood of The Wulf, maintained order and belief in the true gods. That was until fifty years ago. It was then that Jibril Hantestum rose to power, and killed his brother who had the rightful claim to the throne of Rosthagaar. He then cut down the four Kings who held joint rule in each of the lands that surrounded his Kingdom.
Because of this action, Hantestum had unwittingly broken a decree by the gods that each of the four houses should guard one of Rindor’s four sacred swords and present them before him every thousand years.
‘In five years’ time Rindor will descend to r
eunite the four Swords of Cerathil with the Unity Sword, and he will be unable to perform this task. His anger, I fear, will know no bounds,’ Orodor finished.
‘What does that mean?’
‘He may punish those who failed to heed his words. Who is to say?’
‘I don’t mean to interrupt, but Coinin here has some important news, Archmage,’ said Menin.
‘Let’s hear it then.’
Coinin spent the next several minutes describing in detail his meeting with Death and his desire for his name to be placed in the Scroll of Life.
‘I suspected as much,’ Orodor nodded. ‘If he succeeds, then he is one step closer to becoming king of the gods, and I now believe from what you have told me that he is likely responsible for directing Hantestum to seize power, thereby potentially preventing the reuniting of the swords. Alongside this action, he will need his name to be restored to ascend to the heavens to seize control.’
‘That makes the most sense,’ said Coinin.
‘I desire that alongside your duties at the temple, that you focus your efforts on obtaining the Swords of Cerathil,’ said Orodor. ‘Yet for that to happen, you need to accept the Office of Curator, and more importantly, your destiny.’
❖
Marrok, in Coinin’s absence, had spent time in isolation, unsure of his brother’s next steps. He knew Coinin was with Menin when he had partaken of the festivities in the dining hall, so was not immediately worried that he could not find him.
He mulled over his own future, which he was certain was to ensure Coinin fulfilled his destiny. Desperate for answers, and with Coinin gone, he volunteered to help with the temple cleanup. Secretly, though, the overriding reason for offering his services was to get close to a young woman he had set his heart upon. He had first seen her sitting two rows behind in the Great Hall during Menin’s call to arms speech, before the battle three weeks ago, and again last night, as she danced with him.
He had greeted the young woman cautiously at first, not keen to rush his approach, quite unlike his usual brash style. He was not inclined to scare the loveliness away before he had had a chance to court her.
He had learnt that her name was Talina and that she was part elf. Her mother, a human, had won the heart of an influential elf after he had been injured in battle, and she had tended to him, much to the chagrin of his fellow elves. The family were cast out of Astanoth before her birth, and she grew up close to the borders of her former home, never able to set foot into elven land while her father lived. Of course, as time wore on, and with the death of her father five years ago, the memory of his betrayal had faded.
Talina was finally allowed back home, and this, as it happened, was not due to her father’s demise; the elven population had waned due to battles and pestilence that had plagued the land, which devastated the populace.
The elven leaders felt that they needed to encourage outcasts and half-elves to make a home there and again rebuild the society. It was a blessing and a curse. With so many undesirables present, the city guards often found it difficult to maintain order.
She had often visited Astanoth with The Brotherhood, as an assistant to Master Brostix, a temple envoy, while on his regularly scheduled visits to the lands of Er’ath, often on critical peacekeeping or trade missions.
Marrok had, over the past few hours, listened to her talk, and soaked in every detail of her personage. Her beauty was breathtaking, and her slightly pointed ears aroused him, to the point that every time he looked at her he blushed. Talina paid no heed, nor did she make mention of this. Instead, she offered him a winning smile that only served to melt his heart further.
He had not said very much to her at all, just grunted in all the right places, and he had observed that she would often take little glances at him. He was sure on more than one occasion that she too had flushed brightly.
There was one electric moment when both he and Talina had reached for a pail of water at the exact same moment, only for their hands to meet on the rope handle. An instant tingle shot up his spine, and for the first time in many years, he was genuinely happy in that moment.
‘Talina—’ Marrok faltered. ‘I don’t want to seem presumptuous, but I would very much like it if you would walk with me tonight. I hear there will be a spectacular moon.’
Talina smiled sweetly. ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she said. ‘I would love to.’
Marrok flushed and looked away. Inside he whooped happily.
❖
‘I must admit, I am no further forward in determining how to obtain the Swords of Cerathil,’ Orodor remarked.
‘It’s a pity Trenobin is dead, he possessed one of the Swords of Cerathil, I have seen it,’ Coinin responded sadly. ‘In fact, thinking about it, we will find it on his wall at his home right now.’
‘Of course, I had forgotten, his family was one of the original four chosen by Rindor to rule alongside Rostha. I guess when Hantestum cut them down, the family kept the sword. That is good news indeed.’
‘I will send a troop of men to recover this sword immediately upon my return,’ Menin offered.
‘Yes, yes, please do,’ said Orodor absently. ‘That’s two down, and two to go.’
‘Two?’ Coinin asked.
‘Yes, Trenobin had one. The other is held within a lower chamber of the temple. There is a fifth sword secured in the Tower of Elyia at Castle Rostha. This is Rindor’s Unity sword which is used to unite the four, along with the Rose of Cerathil that Menin now wears around her neck.’
‘How hard can it be to obtain the swords?’ Coinin asked. ‘I take it the swords are regional?’
‘Regional?’ Menin asked.
‘Yes, Trenobin’s belonged to the dwarves, and I guess the temple sword belongs to humankind,’ Coinin replied thoughtfully.
‘Very perceptive, yes indeed, and I think you know which regions that leaves?’ said Orodor solemnly.
‘I would say elven, giant and Madorine. Do you think the swords still exist?’ Coinin asked.
‘The Giants were never in possession of a sword, and undoubtedly they still exist. Rindor, I am sure, would have had something to say, should his swords have been destroyed,’ Orodor declared. ‘Besides, I do not believe they could be destroyed by mortal hand.’
‘What importance do the swords hold for Rindor?’ Coinin enquired.
‘That is a good question, and one I am unsure if I should answer. The response itself may betray a trust, not something I’m accustomed to. Then again, the response may aid us in our search.’
‘I hate to make decisions like that, never knowing if the choice you make is the right one,’ Coinin nodded.
‘Life is full of them, but on reflection, I have decided it would be best if you know the full facts. Without them, our search may not be as easy as we first thought.’ Orodor took a deep breath. ‘Taminoth, the Goddess Taminoth, confided in me the reasoning behind Rindor’s insistence that the Swords of Cerathil be joined once every thousand years.’ Orodor paused. ‘If the swords are not united, he cannot rule over the other gods. You see, they set down a commandment that if the ruling god endeared himself to his peoples, the swords would most likely be united by his creation, and he was free to reign for a further one thousand years. If the peoples hated their God, the likelihood that they would follow his commands was less than certain, and that cast doubt over his ability to rule. If the swords are not united, then his brothers and sister are free to challenge him to rule.’
‘You said brothers. There are only three gods,’ Coinin corrected.
‘Have you forgotten so soon? Mort is also a brother of Rindor and has claim to the throne, but he cannot do so while his name remains hidden from the Scroll of Life,’ Orodor replied.
‘Do you think that Rindor would destroy the peoples of Er’ath if we failed to unite the swords?’ Coinin asked.
‘He certainly would have a right to do so if we failed in our duty, but I do not wish to wait for five years to find out.’
�
�So I guess we need to go hunting for these swords and stop the worst happening.’ Menin spoke thoughtfully, already forming a plan.
Orodor looked at her grimly. ‘Sadly, not all of us will join in the search.’
Menin cocked her head and frowned. ‘How so?’
‘The boy here is to take office as Curator; you are to be sworn into office as Archmage. As a consequence of that unique position, we never do battle, nor do we have leave to gallivant around the world in search of lost treasure, unless in exceptional circumstances,’ Orodor replied bluntly.
‘You mean I cannot aid Coinin in his search for the swords?’ said Menin, crestfallen.
‘Now hold on, who said I had to find them?’ Coinin frowned.
‘You can and must lead the way. You will not be defenceless in your task. We will teach you skills beyond imagining and befitting the Office of Curator. Sanctioned with the protection of The Brotherhood of The Wulf, you will find safe haven in all the lands we hold sway.’ Orodor gestured grandly. ‘Additionally, you will have to hand the finest of warriors and battlemages.’
‘Orodor, I do not think the boy is ready for such an undertaking. Perhaps if we delay my Oath of Office, I can lead my men to victory,’ said Menin with a hint of desperation.
‘No, Laliala.’ Orodor turned to Coinin. ‘My boy, for that, is what you are, I ask so much. Will you take the Office of Curator and guide my people, excuse me, Menin’s people with your strength, courage and spirituality to defeat the dark forces that work to enslave us, and ultimately save all who inhabit Er’ath from sure and certain destruction?’
‘It’s true you ask so much.’ Coinin lowered his head. ‘Answer me this one question truthfully, and I will no longer resist you.’
‘By all means my dear boy,’ Orodor agreed.
‘I am but a boy of seventeen. Why have you chosen me and not a scholar who has worked tirelessly at the temple for fifty years?’
Orodor stood and paced and carefully considered his reply. His hand absentmindedly caressed his chin where once grew three yards of grey beard.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 18