The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection

by Harrison Davies

  ‘That will not be necessary,’ Marrok’s deep voice rumbled behind them.

  Coinin and his companions turned to see Marrok in silhouette within the doorway of the barn; he was carrying a pail and a rag in his hands.

  ‘I have things under control, thank you very much,’ Marrok continued. He circled the assembled visitors and knelt down in front of the half-elf’s injured leg. He soaked his rag in the pail, now full of ice-cold water, and gently wrapped it around her swollen ankle. She gave a start and a small squeal of pain, bit her lip, yet bore the sensation.

  Finished in his task, Marrok rounded on the group watching him intently. ‘Why are you here? Am I not allowed a moment’s peace?’ he grumbled, and looked, Coinin knew, embarrassed at his tenderness shown to the woman.

  ‘Brother,’ Coinin began. ‘I have something critical to discuss with you. Would you mind accompanying me so that we may talk?’

  Marrok considered this for a moment before responding. ‘What you have to say can be said in front of Talina.’

  ‘I’m not sure it is appropriate, Marrok, there are personal matters I wish to discuss with you.’

  ‘I will say again. What you have to say, you can say in the presence of Talina.’

  ‘Very well,’ Coinin began, annoyed by Marrok’s tone and attitude. ‘It is a delicate matter, and one that involves Talina.’

  Marrok glared at Coinin fiercely, daring him to say a wrong word against his new love.

  ‘But it’s nothing bad, at least nothing against you or Talina,’ Coinin hastily added.

  ‘Spill it then, brother,’ Marrok spat, annoyed that his time with his new desire had been cut short so rudely, and at the sense of guilt he felt for putting her in harm’s way. If only he had not challenged her to race on the horses, then perhaps she might not have fallen from her ride, and he would not be feeling so annoyed at his carelessness.

  Coinin shuffled his feet and looked at the ground, thinking carefully how to begin. He had no idea how he was going to persuade Marrok. He looked up at his brother, who was tapping his foot impatiently. His arms were crossed, and he looked expectant.

  ‘Remember that I told you that father was training us to become leaders within The Brotherhood?’ Coinin said, and then continued without waiting for a reply. ‘It seems that lip service to The Brotherhood isn’t all that’s required. Rindor requires unquestioned devotion to him, particularly from its leaders.’

  Marrok tutted and rolled his eyes. ‘You know that will never happen.’

  ‘That’s where we become unstuck. In order for us to serve, we must worship Rindor without question,’ Coinin responded.

  ‘Then I guess I will not be serving.’

  ‘Ah, now you see that is a problem in itself.’

  ‘How so?’

  Coinin once again bowed his head and then gritted his teeth. There was no easy way to say this to his brother. ‘You and Talina can never be together if you cannot accept Rindor as your god.’

  Marrok looked at Coinin, a deep frown forming across his brow. ‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

  ‘For you and Talina to be together, you must be a worshipper of Rindor, and you are required to accept him in your life.’

  Marrok looked from Talina to Coinin and back again.

  ‘It is true, Marrok, I thought you knew this,’ said Talina quietly, a look of concern on her face. ‘I cannot consort with a non-believer. Why did you never tell me?’

  Marrok’s jaw had tightened before he let out a roar of rage. He looked to the sky and yelled defiantly at the unseen. ‘Was that your plan all along, to deny a man simple happiness? First, you take my family, and now you take Talina from me.’ Marrok dropped to his knees and his body sagged in defeat.

  Coinin joined his brother on the ground; he knelt close to him and wrapped an arm around his sibling’s broad shoulders.

  ‘You have it all wrong. Rindor didn’t kill mother and father. His brother, Mort, is guilty of that crime, and he is even now not to blame for Talina. You are blaming the wrong god,’ said Coinin softly.

  ‘Then why do I hate Rindor so?’ Marrok asked forlornly.

  Coinin was shocked to see that tears had formed in his brother’s eyes, and would at any moment make a short journey down his cheeks. He did not know if they were tears of rage or sorrow. Certainly, it was not a state he had seen him in before.

  Utterly defeated, Marrok rose and silently left the barn. He shrugged off Coinin’s attempt to stop him on his way out. Talina called after him, though it was as if he had not heard her, and she looked to Coinin, distraught.

  ‘Do not worry, Talina, I will bring him back,’ said Coinin reassuringly, although he did not feel at all reassured.

  He and Draken followed in Marrok’s wake, with Aniol in tow. They did not spot him at first and scouted beyond the barn, yet it was still the far end of a minute later when they spotted him sitting a few feet away, dangling his feet in a fast-flowing stream. He busied himself by skimming rocks across the water, much as he had done as a child.

  Coinin sensed Marrok at a loss, battling with his inner self, with what he knew deep down to be truth versus what he desired. He took off his boots and sat a foot away from Marrok, and also dangled his feet in the icy cold water that instantly took his breath away at the coldness of it.

  ‘You need a warmer pastime, Marrok,’ Coinin joked in an attempt to break the tension.

  Marrok grunted noncommittally and flung a handful of pebbles into the water, which served only to scatter the fish there to feed.

  ‘I know how you feel, Marrok, I—’

  ‘You have no idea how I feel,’ Marrok roared. ‘I’ve just had my heart ripped out, and you think you know how I feel.’

  Coinin took a deep. ‘Actually, I do know how you feel. I too witnessed the murder of our parents, and I might add that I have also had my life turned upside down. I was not expecting any of this. I was looking forward to a life of fishing in a little village, with a wife and two children. But no, I am to be Curator of a grand temple, and guardian of the faith of many thousands, with a lifetime of devotion to the gods. That is no easy task, let me assure you.’

  Marrok looked away, his face set as hard as his eyes. ‘Pah! You know nothing,’ he spat.

  ‘Oh, but you are wrong, I know more than you would believe. I know for a fact that you will accept Rindor in your heart, and you will become the finest general the temple has ever seen.’

  ‘How can you even say these things, knowing how I feel about the gods?’ Marrok snorted.

  ‘Because I feel it,’ Coinin pointed to his head, ‘here,’ and then covered his heart with the palm of his hand, ‘and here.’

  ‘Oh yes, I forgot your dreams of charging castles in the middle of the night, tearing metal gates from their hinges, and melting them with bolts of lightning from your hands.’ Marrok laughed hollowly.

  ‘You scoff, yet you know I have seen other things in my dreams that have transpired. Why not this?’ Coinin lost his temper and stood up quickly. Marrok also rose, fire in his eyes, his fists balling and ready to strike, though not specifically Coinin, just anything that got in his way.

  Draken placed a hand on Coinin’s shoulder to calm him.

  His hand gripped tightly, and he dragged the boy away from his brother before they both did something they would regret.

  Draken leant close to Coinin’s ear and whispered softly into it. Coinin frowned for a moment and then nodded approval. Draken had a plan; maybe he would have more success.

  Marrok was putting his boots back on when Draken sat heavily beside him.

  ‘Oh, not you too, I’ve had enough of you for a lifetime,’ Marrok cried.

  ‘That’s why I’m not going to say anything other than give me your hand,’ said Draken, and proffered his bony hand to the boy.

  ‘Why should I take it?’ Marrok asked, looking at the hand like it was a poisonous snake.

  ‘I am your uncle, and you may hate me, but the old law states that you
should honour your family head. Now, I will ask again, take my hand.’ Draken stared at Marrok steadily.

  Marrok huffed and screwed up his face in annoyance. What Draken had said was correct. He grabbed the old man’s hand intending to squeeze it hard. However, in the blink of an eye, he was not within the temple grounds anymore. With a whoosh of noise, and a flash of light, he was in a place unfamiliar to him, and the colour had been drained from this strange world. Oddly, he felt drunk, as everything around him swayed and appeared to be slow in motion. He looked to his left and saw Draken, in colour, smiling back at him.

  ‘Welcome to the world of what will be,’ Draken’s voice echoed.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Marrok asked, finding his voice as unnatural and echoing as Draken’s had been.

  ‘If you choose the wrong path, this is what will happen in five years’ time.’ Draken’s smile faltered, and he nodded towards a small run-down farmhouse in the distance. ‘This way, if you please.’

  Draken led Marrok towards the farm, silent and solemn. Marrok noted that the fields had recently been ploughed, and a colourless man stood in the corner of the field washing from a water trough set aside for the farm animals. When the man turned, Marrok’s eyes widened, and he went white. There, before him was an older version of himself, heavily scarred about the face and body. He was missing the lower half of his left arm, and the remaining stump drooped uselessly. His future self dunked his head in the trough, rose, and shook the water from his long hair, which he then greased back with his right hand.

  ‘What is this? It’s a trick, I don’t believe it,’ Marrok cried, feeling sick.

  ‘Your brother isn’t the only one with gifts. I can see limited events in the future. This is yours, a desperate future, but the best is yet to come. Death pays a visit,’ Draken announced coldly.

  The ground shook, the sky turned red, and a female he failed to recognise came running from the farmhouse screaming. She was also disfigured and appeared to have lost an eye and limped heavily.

  She hobbled towards the older Marrok and yelled in fright. A vast chasm split the soft ground under her feet, and she vanished into it with a scream.

  Older Marrok raced to the fissure’s edge and fell to his knees, his face in his hand before he looked skywards and yelled. His scream was cut short, however, as a wall of flame engulfed the farmhouse and surrounding trees and destroyed everything in its path, before racing to meet the older Marrok, who too was consumed.

  Marrok awoke with a start to find Draken lying on the ground next to him physically drained. Draken perspired heavily at the mental exertion to create the vision.

  ‘What did you just do to me? Such horrific images. I should tear you limb from limb.’ Marrok stood up, reached for the old man, and roughly picked him up from the ground and brought his face close. ‘Tell me why I should not.’

  Draken looked intensely pale, his eyes were wide, and he had a slight tremor of the lip. He took a deep breath and gulped. ‘What you saw is a vision of one possible future; this is the reality of your life in five years’ time, you and your wife die. If you reject Rindor and your brother’s cry for help, this is how it ends for you. Death will succeed in his plan. He will oust his brother Rindor and declare himself as High King of the gods.’ As he spoke, Draken had found his voice; he confidently drew up to his full height and pushed Marrok roughly away. His deep voice rumbled, no longer the strained vocalisations of an old man. ‘You will selfishly kill all that is good on Er’ath because you cannot bring yourself to kneel before your God and say I was wrong.’

  Marrok looked from Draken to the others who had gathered around him, in the hope that one of them would take him from this nightmare. He stepped back from his uncle, genuinely scared for the first time in his life. Draken, however, was not finished.

  ‘You foolish boy, do you not believe that Rindor loves you and wants to protect you? If you deny him now, then you might as well throw yourself into a volcano, for all the good it would do. Without you, Coinin cannot complete his quest. If he does not, then he will not become Curator, and we will not find the Swords of Cerathil, and that will doom us all. Do you want to subject your future wife to the life you have just witnessed in the vision?’

  Marrok felt he could not breathe; he fell to his knees and clutched at his collar, trying to get air. Everything around him swam, and he felt as if he was going to collapse at any moment.

  It was then that Coinin interrupted the proceedings. ‘Thank you, Uncle, if I may have a few minutes alone with Marrok?’ he asked quietly. He did not relish Marrok’s treatment or his next reaction.

  He had been as surprised as Marrok to learn of his uncle’s gift. Draken had merely said: ‘Allow me to show him his future.’ He had no idea it involved powerful wizardry and visions. Although he had heard someone say once: ‘It is better to be cruel than to be kind,’ he still felt pity for his brother. What he must have witnessed apparently shook him badly.

  He sat next to Marrok, who was now lying on his back breathing heavily, his eyes shut tight as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to undergo that, brother, but it’s broken my heart these many years to see you distance yourself from Rindor. I believe Draken has shown the full outcome of the decision to deny your beliefs.’

  ‘I suppose you think it’s easy to hate the gods? To curse their very names, knowing how father and mother believed in them so,’ Marrok replied through gritted teeth.

  ‘No, I don’t. It must be incredibly difficult to deny one’s faith. I’m here to ask that you accompany me to Rindor’s statue, bow before it, and pour your heart out. If then you still wish to reject Rindor, I will bid you farewell, and I will attempt to enjoy what little time we have left before Death begins his rule and purges Er’ath of life.’ Coinin sighed heavily, drained by the emotion of the hour.

  Marrok lay there for several minutes, and looked to Coinin, sad-faced, his eyes red from holding back tears.

  ‘Fine then, I’ll do as you ask. But if it doesn’t go your way, I walk away forever.’ He looked at Coinin with a steely determination.

  Coinin’s heart sank. To lose his brother would be unbearable; nevertheless, he nodded in agreement. He knew he had no other option.

  ❖

  Coinin and Marrok had travelled to the statues of Rindor, Taminoth and Maresh alone. This was a private matter, and Marrok would not have benefitted from an audience. Besides, Coinin felt he had suffered enough humiliation for one day.

  Marrok, under Coinin’s direction, had prostrated himself before the statue of Rindor after much grumbling.

  It was only when he was about to give up and leave that the sun dipped below the lip of the volcano and the statue came to life.

  ‘I see that you have brought Marrok before me as requested,’ the statue boomed, directing his statement at Coinin.

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘Yet I sense a seething anger within him. This is not the heart I asked for,’ the marble sculpture rumbled.

  ‘I know, I am sorry, but Marrok has for many years believed Rindor responsible for the death of our parents. Please, allow him time to reflect,’ Coinin pleaded, hoping this statue would truly emulate the god of love.

  ‘That is no excuse for rejecting your creator,’ the effigy thundered, ‘however, Rindor is a forgiving God. Marrok Wulf? Look deep inside yourself and answer one question. Do you believe that your creator, a god of love and forgiveness, is complicit in the murder your parents?’

  Marrok did not look up, he was sobbing, and being in the presence of the likeness of Rindor was having an unusual effect on him. Childhood memories of daily worship washed over him, and wave after wave of cherished moments, buried deep for years, raced through his mind and gave him a warm inner peace he had not felt for many a year. Images flashed before him of Coinin and he kneeling before the village altar, placing offerings to the gods, happily holding hands with his parents as they circled the divine carvings in prayer. He remembered h
ow the touch of his mother’s hand warmed him on a cold winter’s morning, and how, if he snuggled into his father, the sheepskin he wore would warm his face.

  Years of hiding his true feelings behind a mask had taken its toll, and now the emotions poured forth through cracks in his defences. They were brought on by the sudden realisation that no loving God would kill a dedicated worshipper. No, the one to blame was indeed Mort. The release from his anger was almost too much to bear. He raised a tear-stained face to look upon the image of his God, and muttered in a barely audible whisper: ‘No, I do not. I am sorry that I ever doubted you, creator.’

  INITIATIONS

  An exhausted Coinin and Marrok trudged up the hill to the small clutch of trees that overlooked the statues of Rindor, Taminoth and Maresh. There they stopped and looked back at the now-still marble in wonder. In the distance, a bell pealed the news of Coinin’s success to a crowd of well-wishers and an anxious Laliala Menin.

  ‘Coinin? I want to apologise to you. My eyes have been opened today, and I’ve been such a fool,’ said Marrok, and held him in a bear hug. ‘I just miss them so much.’

  ‘You and I both, though life goes on. Right now we have so much to rebuild, and not just the temple,’ Coinin replied breathlessly. ‘Now if you don’t mind, please let me go so I can take a breath.’

  Marrok released him with a laugh. ‘Sorry, I forget what a weakling you are sometimes.’

  ‘Yes, well, don’t do that to your elven wife, she may not survive.

  ‘As much as I’d like to hold Talina that close, it won’t be like that.’ Marrok winked. ‘I want to thank you for giving me two gifts today, my faith and Talina.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure; now stop talking before you make me sick,’ Coinin said. ‘Come on, let’s find the others and tell them disaster is averted; well, at least for now anyway. Mort is bound to put a new obstacle in our way soon.’

  ‘Hah! Let him try. The Wulf brothers are more than a match for him.’