‘Axl?’ Jericho called.
The armchair squeaked, and Jericho crossed to it to see Axl sleeping, his mouth open to catch flies, his lips forming drool at the corners. His white hair was tousled, and his cheeks glowed beneath dark skin.
‘Axl?’ Jericho called firmly and then shook the young man.
Axl shot up, his wild hair bouncing around his head. ‘I was … I was just checking my eyelids for holes,’ he stumbled with a shocked expression and proceeded to rub a crusty sleep from his eyes.
‘Sure you were.’ Jericho smirked. ‘Aniol and I have some questions for you if you have a moment.’
Axl looked to Aniol and blushed lightly. ‘Hello Aniol,’ he said brightly and then turned to the General. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘This is a delicate matter, and none of what I say is to leave this room, understood?’
Axl nodded and crossed the room to retrieve two wooden stools, which he then placed beside the warming fire. He invited his guests to sit and then sat once more in his armchair, his face serious.
‘Curator Wulf has been tasked with an undertaking to locate Lordich Secracar; however, we don’t know the exact location of the tower where I was held as a prisoner. With your skills as a map maker, perhaps you can assist us?’ Jericho said openly.
Axl frowned and stood. He placed a hand to his forehead and groaned. ‘The art of map making is an exact science, and a difficult one to master. What can you tell me about the tower?’
‘It’s situated on a small island in the southern oceans,’ Jericho replied.
Axl breathed out heavily. ‘That’s a lot of water, General. Do you have nothing else I can use to pinpoint the location?’
‘The stars told me we were travelling South-West and the sun was ahead of me during the day. The dragon set a moderate pace; I’d say one wing beat every two seconds. At one point we passed clear over the Lone Isles, due south,’ Jericho answered. ‘I did drift to sleep, and that may not have been consistent, but it’s all I have.’
Axl blanched. ‘How does a dragon come into this?’
‘Ah yes, of course, not everyone knows. During the attack on the temple several months ago, I was taken against my will to a high black tower in the grasp of a dragon,’ Jericho responded. ‘That’s how Eraywen and I got there.’
Axl paced the room and huffed and puffed at the almost impossible task before him. Somewhere in the miles upon miles of southern ocean, a tiny island waited to be discovered, and he had to find it. Jericho opened a leather sac attached to his belt and withdrew a tobacco pouch. From within his clothing, he extracted a clay pipe. He packed it full of tobacco and lit it, and then silently puffed away while watching Axl with some amusement.
‘Assuming that the dragon maintained the same speed and—’ Axl began, and then rushed to a set of shelves in the corner of the room and rooted around. He removed a long parchment and after he had cleared a space on his table, spread it out and secured it with weights at each corner. Studying the parchment in candlelight hurt his eyes, but he persevered and began to make notes in a small leather-bound notebook he had plucked from his robes. He dipped the end of his quill into an inkwell nearby, and then absently placed it into his mouth. The foul liquid was bitter to the tongue, and he threw the quill down in frustration, put his hands on the table, and hung his head low.
Aniol walked across the room and quietly stood beside him. She placed a hand on his arm and smiled up at him. This seemed to have a calming effect, and he returned the smile and then flushed pink again.
‘Let’s work through it together,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ Axl said, and then turned to face Jericho. ‘What time do you think it was that the dragon took you?’
Jericho took a couple of puffs on his pipe and blew a steady cloud of smoke that collected in the air around him. ‘At best guess I would say eight in the evening, give or take.’
Axl nodded and noted it down in his book. ‘And what time would you say that you arrived at the tower?’
‘Not long after sunup.’
Axl returned to his notebook. ‘Well, this is good. We have a heading of sorts, though I do need to know how far a dragon will fly in a single wing beat. Without this knowledge, it will be virtually impossible to determine the distance travelled.’
‘We are in luck; we are sitting on the world’s biggest library. Dragons may once have been thought extinct, but surely someone must have had knowledge of them?’ Aniol offered.
‘Then I think, young one, that you should take Axl to Curator Wulf and research this matter. I will finish the many other preparations needed,’ Jericho decided.
Aniol’s heart leapt at a chance to spend some time with Axl, and she nodded heartily. ‘Where will I find you once we have completed our task?’
‘That’s difficult to say. I would try the wharf. We will be transporting supplies there for most of the day.’
‘Very well.’ Aniol turned to Axl and grasped him by the hand. ‘Come with me.’
Aniol and Axl swiftly exited the room and left Jericho alone. He smiled at the obviousness of Aniol’s affections for the young man.
THE QUINTET
Aniol and Axl had made their way to Curator Wulf’s study and could not find him anywhere. Though they asked numerous people on their way back, none had seen him.
Scouring the grounds they still could not find him, and now Aniol had become apprehensive indeed. She thought it time to raise the alarm.
She and Axl jogged back to the temple and rounded the last corner only to slip on a sheet of ice and almost crash into Coinin, who had his head buried in a large book. Aniol fell to the ground, and Axl acted quickly and assisted her to her feet.
Both Axl and Aniol offered their sincere apologies for the near collision. However Coinin was too engrossed in his book and just waved them on.
‘Curator Wulf, if I may? I have need to access the library codex,’ Aniol said, wincing at her sore and bruised elbow.
Coinin looked up and noticed Axl for the first time. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I’ve had a lot on my mind trying to understand our new enemy, Lordich Secracar. Who might this be?’ he finished with a nod to the young man in front of him.
‘This is Axl, the mapmaker. Have you not met?’ Aniol replied.
Coinin considered him. Green eyed, tall and thin, with an unusual mop of white hair that contrasted his dark skin. ‘I don’t believe we have met. Curator Wulf,’ he said, and offered his hand in friendship.
Axl took the hand and shook heartily. ‘I know of you of course. I’ve seen you on the podium during prayers and meal times.’
Coinin released his grasp and turned to Aniol. ‘What need do you have of the codex?’ he asked.
‘Jericho has asked Axl to estimate the journey time of the dragon that took him to the tower. To do that, we need to know if the archives hold any information on dragon flight,’ Aniol replied.
‘Very well, you will find the codex in the bottom drawer of my desk. Please treat it with care and return it when you have finished. If you need me, I shall be consulting with Draken about his relationship with Lordich.’
‘Thank you, Coin … I mean Curator,’ Aniol quickly corrected herself. Coinin had permitted her to address him by name when alone until he had time to change the protocol that prevented Aniol from calling him anything other than Curator in company.
Coinin reached into his thick winter robes and removed a key he had secreted about his person. ‘The key to my study,’ he said.
Aniol raised a hand in objection. ‘There’s no need; I possess such a key for emergencies.’
Coinin’s face clouded a moment, and then the emotion vanished as quick as it had come. ‘Of course, for my protection.’ He wondered if she was the one that would visit in the night and lay out new clothes while he slept. He felt a mixture of feelings at the thought, and a little self-conscious that someone could see his sleeping form while he himself was unaware. He coughed and mumbled an excuse to leave.
Aniol watched him depart and held Axl’s hand once more. ‘This way,’ she beamed, happy to be doing something at last.
Axl followed like a lovesick puppy and had trouble keeping up with the lithe young woman, despite his long legs, and it was not too long before they had reached their destination, one floor up on the left of the main temple stairway.
Aniol unlocked the room and stepped inside. It held several more pieces of furniture than when Coinin had first occupied it. He had chosen matching items that included a lounger, harmonising chairs for guests, and a smaller writing desk than the large, ornate affair in the centre of the room. Around the walls hung several paintings that depicted victorious battles at the hands of The Brotherhood. Coinin had chosen these from the temple storeroom, not because the scenes themselves inspired him—since the sheer artistry of the brushwork did. Often he would sit and daydream in front of one particularly beautiful scene, a depiction of a small village that was sheltered in a valley, just above a vast blue lake. It reminded him of home, and Aniol knew that he secretly longed to return there and once more see the place of his birth.
She crossed to the Curator’s desk, opened a large wooden drawer and withdrew a heavy package wrapped in linen. She deposited it on the desk with a loud bang that made Axl jump. He had been looking at the paintings on the wall and had not been paying attention to her.
She giggled. ‘Sorry, it’s heavy.’
Axl held a hand over his heart. ‘A little warning next time, please,’ he laughed.
‘This,’ Aniol explained as she unwrapped the book from its coverings, ‘is the Codex of the Great Library. It charts the location of every volume in the library according to the topic. Somewhere in here, I hope, is the key to dragon flight.’
Axl looked ill. ‘It’s huge. It’ll take hours to go through this,’ he said and poked at the huge tome.
‘Not really. We only need to search through the entries, D for Dragon, or F for Flight. It shouldn’t take long at all.’ She winked at him playfully, then turning over the thick cover encasing the book, she ran her finger down a list of entries to locate the page where D would start. ‘Ah here we are, page seven hundred and ninety-eight,’ she said. After leafing through many sections of the book, she located her starting place. Again she ran her finger down page after page until her eyes stung, and then turned to Axl. ‘It’s not in the D section. Your turn, please check F.’
Axl sighed and took her place in front of the huge book. He thumbed through the pages and located the section for F. After a time he also drew a blank and had a look of defeat about him. ‘It’s not here.’
Aniol screwed up her face in annoyance. ‘Nothing’s ever straightforward, is it? I guess we’ll just have to ask the Curator for advice.’
She carefully replaced the codex back in its resting place and ushered Axl from the room. She locked the door once more and secreted the key away. Fortunately, Coinin’s uncle’s quarters were not too far away and it was but a minute later that they were knocking on the door. Several seconds later, the door opened, and Draken stuck his head out. ‘Yes, what is it?’ he demanded with a pout of his cruel mouth.
‘Is Curator Wulf in there?’ Aniol asked, squaring up to him.
The ageing man, Coinin’s uncle, looked as thin as ever, with thick, wiry greying hair and bushy eyebrows. His eyes were so sunken that they gave him a ghoulish appearance. He still possessed incredibly long and dirty fingernails that had always disgusted her.
‘As a matter of a fact, yes he is,’ Draken began. ‘Do you wish to see him, little girl?’
Aniol scowled. ‘Yes, I would like that,’ she said through gritted teeth and a curl of her lip.
Draken opened the doorway so that she and Axl were able to enter his chambers. The room was not as well presented as Coinin’s or indeed her own, and it appeared that Draken was less than fastidious in tidying up after himself. Boots and clothes were strewn around the room and across furniture with no care. He had taken to eating in his room alone, and several plates lay about the place, slowly growing mould. The smell disgusted her, and she wrinkled her nose, affronted by the odour. Draken invited her to sit—she shook her head and indicated a desire to stand.
Coinin looked at her questioningly. ‘If you will give me just a moment, I wish to finish my talk with Draken.’
Draken Wulf returned to his bed and perched on the edge of it opposite Coinin, who sat on a wooden stool in the middle of the room.
Aniol nodded and walked to the window for fresh air where she stood quietly, trying hard not to be sickened by the smell.
‘Draken,’ said Coinin, and Aniol noted the dropped reference to uncle, ‘I have one more question. You stated that you were never really friends with Lordich, and that you followed him out of compulsion. During all the time that you knew him, he never mentioned a place that was special to him in some way?’
Draken looked uncomfortable at the question and avoided eye contact with his nephew. ‘I don’t remember; it was such a long time ago.’
Coinin sensed deception in his uncle’s reply and persisted. ‘Why do you insist on withholding information from me? I know you’re lying.’ Draken rose sharply at this, and Coinin rose with him. ‘Tell me what I want to know. Where would Lordich hide out if he knew his tower were compromised?’
Draken appeared pained, and he clutched at the collar of his shirt. ‘You are not aware of the power that man held over me. I was bidden to do his works against my will. I do not desire to meet up with this man again so soon. Can you blame me for withholding information?’
Aniol snorted behind Coinin, her contempt for Draken evident. She had come to know this man informally since his arrival and was familiar with his ways and mannerisms. She knew that he was holding back.
Coinin swung around to face her. ‘If you can’t control yourself Aniol, then you should leave,’ he retorted. ‘I have permitted you a certain freedom and friendship in my presence, and I wonder of late if that was a mistake.’
Aniol bowed her head in subjection. ‘I am shamed Curator; I will leave your presence until you are finished.’
Coinin shook his head. ‘There is no need; I sense I can get no more from Draken.’
Draken froze inside. He had to say something for fear that Coinin may consider his usefulness at an end. He needed to be the constant companion to his nephew in order to gain the Swords of Cerathil for himself. ‘Now I didn’t say I wasn’t going to tell you, it is just so difficult for me, remembering the old days,’ he said. ‘I performed many deplorable acts that I am not proud of, and I shudder to think of them.’
Coinin looked at his uncle incredulously. ‘I don’t for one minute think you regret the things you did. However, I will listen to what you have to say.’
Draken glared at him. ‘I don’t like your tone young man. Perhaps what I have to say is of no importance.’
Biting his lip, Coinin mentally kicked himself for his foolishness. Marrok’s life was at stake, and here he berated the only man, besides Jericho, who could offer an insight into the mind of Lordich. ‘I’m sorry uncle. I hope you can forgive me. Please do go on.’
Draken smiled inside in the knowledge that yet again he had manipulated his nephew to his own ends. Now came the tricky part. He had conspired with the dark wizard, Lordich, to overthrow The Brotherhood of The Wulf on two separate occasions, and even now he desired the Swords of Cerathil so that he could use them to garner power and prestige. Still, though, he feared Lordich above all others, and did not wish to meet the mage anytime soon, and yet he still needed to appease Coinin. He took a sigh and frowned, recalling his younger days when he and Lordich had first met.
❖
Two dozen brightly painted arch-roofed caravans, driven each by a team of horses, trundled slowly up the trackway. The waggons passed by numerous small farms and houses, and people gawked warily from their windows at the strange sight. After the initial caution, the excitement began to build. The carnival headed into the town of Re’u
m, in the West of Westeroe.
At the rear of the caravans, two lone riders sat astride magnificent white chargers. Anyone who saw them recognised them instantly by their bright white cloaks and steel armour. They were Brotherhood of The Wulf soldiers, charged with maintaining order and discipline in the land. A recent spate of robberies by masked men on this particular stretch of trackway left The Brotherhood no choice but to guard the carnival to its destination.
It had been a tiresome and bumpy ride, though, thankfully the end was in sight, and this cheered the travellers. Tonight they would open, and villagers and townsfolk would flock for miles to enjoy the festivities.
The carnival owner, Hawrich, breathed a sigh of relief as the town square neared, and it was not too long before each caravan had circled a statue of the God Rindor, before finally reaching their destination. The teams of horses were led away to rest and feed, and each caravan owner began to set up their stalls or attractions, ready for the evening’s entertainment.
Colour soon emblazoned the square. Bunting had been deftly strung between waggons and the buildings opposite. A large fire had already started to be constructed to finish the planned events, and hand painted signage had been placed at all the entrances to the square. These invited residents to join in the festivities, to browse the fare on offer, and sink every shil they had in un-winnable games.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 38