Coinin kept quiet. He had not meant to offend Menin, he was still very upset over the disappearance of Marrok, and this drove his actions to his detriment.
Menin stopped pacing and cocked her head as if listening to someone whispering in her ear and then grunted in response. She turned to Coinin. ‘I am sorry that was unfair. It seems Orodor sees the pain in your heart and has offered a solution to our problems.’
Coinin looked up slowly. ‘And that is?’ he asked confused. She had spoken to no one.
‘Orodor and I have conversed on this matter at length over the past few months, and we seem to be in agreement today. It would make sense for Lordich Secracar to have abducted your brother. He had wanted to use General Jericho as a spy for him, so why not your brother?’ Menin once again sat at her desk. ‘You think me unsympathetic to your plight, yet I understand only too well. I have lost hundreds of brothers and sisters over the years, in one fight or another, and I feel no less pain at Marrok’s disappearance. Therefore, it has been decided that you will seek out Lordich and find Marrok, as it seems you are indeed correct, the prophecy says both of you will find the swords.’
‘I am sorry Laliala, my intention was never to—’
‘Say no more of it,’ Menin interrupted. ‘What is of importance is to find the Swords of Cerathil, and if that means we need to locate Marrok first, then so be it.’
Coinin wept quietly, the release of anguish sudden and unexpected, and he noted the moist eyes of the Archmage. ‘Thank you Laliala.’
‘I suggest you speak with General Jericho and see if he can shed some light on Lordich’s location.’
‘I will do that right away, thank you, though I have one small thing to do first.’ Coinin stood and wiped his eyes.
‘Very well. Please come and see me when you are ready to depart, I would like to know your plan before you enact it.’
‘Certainly.’ Coinin felt a warm feeling begin to flood him. He had been given leave to search out his brother, and quite possibly bring to justice the man who had attempted to destroy The Brotherhood by striking at the heart of its spiritual home several months ago. Without a further word, he left, closing the door behind him, and stepped into the Great Hall.
Aniol had rested her feet while sitting on a pew to the left of the door and immediately jumped to attention at Coinin’s sudden appearance. She looked sheepish and gave him a little grin. He returned the smile secretly, out of sight of Zaruun, and shook his head. The older guard looked less than impressed at her actions.
‘Don’t worry Zaruun, I’ll make her wash my floors with a small hand brush,’ said Coinin. ‘Twice.’
Zaruun brightened visibly at this, satisfied that the insubordinate Aniol would receive some form of punishment. Fastidious concerning his duties, he reasoned that everyone else should follow suit.
Coinin nodded goodbye and strode from the Great Hall, followed closely by Aniol. As soon as they were out of earshot, he turned to her. ‘You do attract trouble don’t you?’ he asked.
‘I’m sorry, my feet are sore, the cobbler hasn’t made my new boots yet, so my toes are crushed,’ said Aniol apologetically.
‘Do you not have any sandals?’ Coinin asked.
‘Sandals, in this weather?’ Aniol looked at him oddly.
‘Well, ok, maybe not sandals then,’ he laughed.
He led Aniol outside once more and strode to where Prentis looked forlornly at the statue of Marrok. Coinin marched up to the elderly architect and patted him on the shoulder to indicate his presence.
Prentis scowled at him and said nothing. It was evident Coinin had upset him deeply.
‘Prentis, I’m sorry that I rushed off like that, it was rude of me,’ Coinin said in an attempt to appease the man.
‘It was indeed very rude. I have half a mind to dismantle the statue and leave the space empty,’ Prentis huffed. ‘This was my attempt to thank your brother for his valiant efforts.’
‘Again, I apologise. I thought you had created it to honour his memory, almost as if you’d given up on him.’
‘Nonsense, it is a statue to honour the living, as was your father’s.’ Prentis brightened a little. ‘Do you think I caught his likeness?’
Coinin stood back and then circled the statue, contemplating Prentis’s work. He noted that the chin appeared to be not quite right, perhaps a little too square—he would not reveal this to Prentis; he had already upset the man once today.
‘I have to say; I have never seen Marrok looking finer. You caught him perfectly.’ Coinin smiled.
Prentis looked happy and shook Coinin by the hand. ‘Well, I guess I need to work on yours next, but first, there is the unveiling ceremony to organise.’ Prentis indicated to his workers that they should cover the likeness once more.
‘Oh, there is no need to do that. Perhaps we should wait until Marrok returns,’ said Coinin, and for the briefest of moments, he saw it there in Prentis’s eyes, a disbelief that Marrok would return.
‘You have much to learn young one, and the first thing you need to understand is that we use every excuse to party,’ Prentis winked. ‘Besides, would you deprive an old man the chance to show off his finest work?’
Coinin refrained from an outward show of annoyance. Eager to set off and find Marrok, he was irritated that here was yet another delay.
Aniol sensed his frustration and stepped between them. ‘We’d be delighted to attend the ceremony,’ she smiled, and then turned to Coinin and gave him her best ‘comply with me’ look. Coinin faked a smile and nodded his assent.
Prentis looked simply overjoyed at the thought and walked away with a confident spring in his step. He snapped his fingers for his workers to follow him and whistled a merry tune as he went.
Coinin rounded on Aniol. ‘Why did you say we’d attend? I have pressing matters to attend to.’
‘Preparations for your departure will take some time. I can prepare most things for you while you attend the ceremony.’
‘How do you know—’
‘You have talked of finding Marrok and nothing else for the past several months,’ Aniol interrupted. ‘You left Archmage Menin’s office all smiles, a different person to the one I saw this morning. It’s an educated guess that you have been given leave to seek him out.’
‘Well reasoned, you are correct. I am to seek out Marrok, and I’m going to need help to do so. First, we need to speak to Jericho.’
‘General Jericho? Why?’
‘He knows the location of Lordich’s lair,’ Coinin replied. ‘He should be drilling the troops by this time.’
Aniol looked up at the position of the sun and then turned to Coinin impressed. ‘You’re getting the hang of this! Did you read the sun?’
‘No, nothing as complex as that. Every morning Jericho drills the troops outside of my bedroom window until midday. I get no peace,’ Coinin smiled.
Aniol shook her head and wondered if this young man would ever truly fit in and use the skills Archmage Menin had taught him. ‘Come on then, let’s find him.’
They skirted the perimeter of the golden temple and bypassed the balcony upon which he spent most of his time in contemplation of his life and how it would have been very different if he and Marrok had not accepted the summons to the temple all those months ago. He would never have learnt that Death had a plan to add himself to the Scroll of Life, and this would permit him to ascend to the heavens and challenge his brother Rindor to rule. He would not have been tasked with finding the Swords of Cerathil, which Rindor decreed must be reunited once every thousand years to bind his rule, and Marrok would not have been abducted. As it was, he did know these things, and he could do nothing about them except to fulfil his destiny. In order to do that, though, he needed Marrok.
He stopped to rub his ankle, the same ankle that had been broken in a vicious duel some months ago when Death had possessed him. The entity within him had used his body to duel Archmage Menin magically, and as a result, he had ended up in the infirmary severely i
njured. Now he walked with a permanent limp.
Aniol, several steps ahead, stopped and rejoined him. ‘Are you well?’ she asked.
‘Yes, just a little ankle pain,’ Coinin replied a little stiffly.
‘Should I fetch the General?’
He briefly considered sending for Jericho then felt that it would be better if he approached the General himself. He was, after all, going to ask the man for assistance. He had learned that people are less likely to be forthcoming if they have been summoned.
‘No, I’ll be fine. I have to use the leg sometimes,’ he grimaced.
With one final rub of his leg, he straightened and followed Aniol once more. He waved cheerfully to several worshippers as they passed, and gave polite little nods. Another minute later they had rounded the temple, and ahead of them, they saw the familiar figure of General Jericho striding up and down in front of a line of soldiers who looked fed up and extremely cold. He had lost weight as a result of the loss of his wife and appeared very drawn about the face.
Jericho heard them crunching across the gravel pathway and turned to greet them. ‘Curator, a surprise inspection?’ he asked.
‘No, not at this time. I need to speak with you privately,’ Coinin replied formally.
Jericho nodded and turned back to his troops. ‘Lieutenant Lifor, please take over where I left off. The Curator wishes to speak with me.’
Coinin had not spotted her until then and looked at Reena dreamily, still caught up in her beauty. That was until Aniol nudged him in the ribs. ‘Put your tongue away, everybody’s watching,’ she said with a smirk.
‘You’re not funny Aniol. I could still yet have you clean my study floor.’ He inwardly chastised himself for his outward show of affection, and then the sadness that something he could never have churned his stomach. Archmage Menin had explained to him that since he was essentially an Archmage in training, he would never be free to marry or share his life with another. His devotion would be to Rindor and The Brotherhood. This had broken his heart tremendously. Nevertheless, he knew the importance of his position and role within The Order and had come to accept his path.
Jericho rejoined them moments later, and the trio walked away quietly until they were out of earshot of the troops.
‘You said you wished to talk with me privately, Curator?’ Jericho asked.
‘Indeed, I wondered if you could tell me the location of the black tower.’
Jericho looked at Coinin quizzically, and with a cock of his head, he smiled. ‘You want to go there?’ he said and thought back to his imprisonment in the dungeons of a black tower on a lone island in the southern seas of Er’ath.
Coinin returned the smile. ‘I do, yes, and I would hope that you will join me.’
‘For what purpose do you set your sights on the tower?’ Jericho enquired.
‘Orodor, Menin, and I are in accord. We believe the likelihood that Lordich instigated the kidnap of Marrok is high, and he may be held in the tower.’
‘Knowing Lordich as I do, I do not believe he would have remained at the tower. Like the coward he is, he will have run with his tail between his legs.’ Jericho spat on the ground at the name of his former friend and now the enemy. Lordich had kidnapped him and his wife and then transported them to the island where his wife had been killed. He had learnt that Lordich desired the destruction of The Brotherhood of The Wulf so that his own Order of Dragons would become the dominant religious order on the planet.
Coinin kicked at a snow drift that blanketed the grassed area which followed the pathway and sent a cloud of white into the air. He knew what Jericho had said would likely prove to be correct, and the sudden excitement of the possibility of finding Marrok waned.
‘I know what you say may be true Jericho, yet there has to be a reason why Orodor would believe this to be the right course of action to take,’ Coinin offered.
Jericho stopped and looked out at the white coldness before him. ‘I suppose it would beat sitting on our hands here, and I am eager for some payback. As I have previously stated, I did not think to garner the location from Eliana and then she up and left without so much as a goodbye. The difficulty will be to locate the tower in the vast open sea, but luckily I am observant.’
Coinin brightened slightly. ‘So you will help?’ he asked.
‘Of course, without question. You only have to say the word, my Curator. This is going to take some planning, though. When do you wish to leave?’
Coinin’s eagerness would see him set off immediately, although he knew preparations needed to be made and would take time. ‘As soon as it is possible to do so. I would ask that you take charge of proceedings, and whatever you need, I’ll ensure you get it,’ he replied.
Jericho nodded and flicked a thumb in Aniol’s direction. ‘Would you mind if I borrow your guard for the morning? She will prove useful.’
Coinin looked to Aniol, and almost imperceptibly asked her permission with a drop of his eyebrows. She picked this up and nodded in agreement. They had grown so close over the preceding months, and could almost finish one another’s sentences, so that non-verbal communication between them had become quite prolific and handy in certain circumstances.
‘Aniol will do all that you ask, just don’t keep her too long please. Come and see me when you have finished.’
‘Very well. Aniol, please follow me.’ Without a further word, Jericho strode off with what appeared to be the gait of a satisfied man.
Coinin reached down and grabbed a handful of snow and curled it into a tight ball. He took aim and threw it at the disfigured statue of Lordich Secracar. It had the fortune to land squarely where the face would have been. ‘I’m coming for you Lordich, and I’ll not show mercy,’ he growled.
❖
Jericho had marched ahead and left Aniol to jog behind breathlessly. She had dug into her pack for a quill, ink and parchment in anticipation of orders. She was no fool; she had learnt to juggle each item expertly over the past months. She had fashioned a loop in her belt to hold the inkwell that had an unusually long neck to prevent spillage, and she rested upon a clay tablet to write. Coinin was full of orders and instructions, and she had learned to always be at the ready.
Jericho looked at her and chuckled. ‘Is this normal for you?’ he asked.
‘Curator Wulf may have a limp, but he can move when he chooses to. Even I have a hard time keeping up with him sometimes,’ Aniol responded.
‘Of that, I’ve no doubt,’ Jericho nodded. ‘You do know you are there to guard him?’
‘Of course, though Curator Wulf says it’s valuable to him if I can help him keep track of his thoughts and ideas,’ Aniol replied.
‘Fine then, if that’s what he wants, write this down. Our first stop is to consult with Axl, the cartographer. We need to find a suitable map so that we can plot the course to the tower. Once I know where we’re headed, I’ll gather supplies and the troops needed.’
Aniol listened intently and wrote everything the General said on her parchment. Jericho shook his head and secretly smiled. He had always liked his neice; she had spirit and an eagerness not often seen amongst his troops. They could learn a lot from her, he thought. He led the way through cold marble corridors, and the air felt cooler indoors than out. The floors had been strewn with rushes to try to warm the ground underfoot, yet did not help. He shivered lightly and gripped his fur collar about him tightly. His breath fogged in front of his face and he blew warm breath into his numb fingers.
‘I do believe it’s getting colder,’ he said. ‘I hope it’ll be a little warmer in Axl’s study.’
Aniol paused a moment and then scribbled out a sentence she had written with a scowl. ‘I’m sure he’ll have a roaring fire going for us,’ she commented.
Jericho turned the corner of one final corridor and slipped swiftly down a marble circular stairwell and into the bowels of the temple. At the bottom, it was indeed less chilly; however, it was darker here. Reaching for an oil lantern, he lit it from a wick
situated in a holder fastened to the wall beside a torch that flickered nearby. He closed the delicate glass door and held his new light source aloft. The light sent dancing shadows across the walls and Aniol’s face.
‘Why these scholars insist on working down here in the dark, I don’t know,’ said Jericho.
‘I think it’s the peace and solitude. It can get quite hectic upstairs.’
‘It’s probably why they are all odd.’
‘Odd?’ Aniol asked.
‘Well, just look at Axl himself. An extraordinary young man, and all those inventions he’s endlessly tinkering with,’ Jericho replied. ‘A bit strange wouldn’t you say?’
Aniol tried unsuccessfully to hide a snigger as she pictured Axl in his study surrounded by a multitude of creations he had invented, and the shock of white hair inherited from his father, that gave him a wild appearance. Every moment of her spare time she spent visiting Axl, she didn’t find him odd or strange at all. In fact, she rather enjoyed his company.
Jericho led the way down a very dark corridor, lit very briefly by floor standing braziers that gave off a weak glow from within alcoves set at regular intervals. He was thankful he had chosen to use the oil lantern to light the way. At the far right of the solid stone corridor he turned right, and after several metres, he turned right again, to stop outside of a worn wooden door with a notice pinned to it. It read ‘Axl Thulomn: Cartographer’. Someone had roughly carved the words ‘and Inventor’ underneath. He had found the right place at least. There had been times that he had become lost in the rabbit warren of hallways and corridors under the great temple.
He did not bother to knock and opened the door. It squeaked as the bottom grated against the cold stone floor and set his teeth on edge. Stepping inside, he shook his head in wonder. Axl had managed to squeeze even more inside this small room since the last time he had visited. He had even begun to hang wooden models and other items tied with rope from the ceiling. Dozens of shelves lined the room complete with books, models of things he had invented, and instruments Jericho failed to hazard a guess as to the use. A long, low table occupied the centre of the room, and on it piled high were tubes and glass jars. In the middle, a cut-out had been formed through which a fire pit had been constructed. Over this hung an iron pot, the contents of which bubbled happily, yet gave off an acrid odour. Every other square inch of remaining wall was covered with diagrams and plans that Axl had drawn up on parchment. To the left, as he entered, Jericho saw that a high leather armchair faced a pleasant fire that crackled and popped, and yet there were no signs of Axl.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 37