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

by Harrison Davies

  ‘We’ll visit with Axl and ensure he has what he needs for our voyage. We should then collect General Jericho and his men, before stopping to offer prayer with Archmage Menin. Then I guess we’ll set off.’

  Aniol furiously scribbled down the tasks on her parchment, only stopping now and then to dip the end of her quill into her ink pot.

  Coinin could sense an excitement and nervous tension in the air as he and Aniol wandered purposefully through the temple. Coinin strode, keen to see a start to things, and before long he knocked at Axl’s study door. It creaked open a moment later, and Axl poked his head out. He wore around his head a leather strap that held a candle in front of a light reflector. Coinin eyed the device warily. It was so close to setting Axl’s hair alight that he considered extinguishing the flame.

  ‘Curator?’ Axl asked with a puzzled expression. ‘May I be of service?’

  ‘Yes, indeed you can, Axl. You can gather what things you need for the journey and come with us.’

  ‘Journey?’ Axl stuttered in shock. ‘Oh my, I thought you were joking about that. Are you sure it’s such a good idea that I accompany you? I have so much to do here.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I need your services. You know how to read a map correctly, for one.’

  Axl looked from Coinin to Aniol, lost for words, and when Coinin whispered lightly in her ear, she giggled and nodded. Pushing the study door open wider, Aniol stepped around Axl, quickly jogged to the back wall of the room and took down a large sack. Next, she whizzed around the chamber and deposited personal items belonging to Axl inside. Finished, she handed it to him. ‘There you go, all set. Now, if you’d collect any maps or instruments you need, we’ll be going,’ she said.

  Axl jumped to action immediately like a frightened hare and scrambled throughout the room. He collected several items including a wooden tube that contained a map of Er’ath and then rushed back to Aniol out of breath.

  Aniol raised her eyebrows at him and pouted. ‘Are you planning to go outside dressed like that?’ she asked.

  Axl looked down at his attire and saw nothing wrong with his appearance and shrugged at her. ‘Yes?’

  ‘No,’ Aniol huffed, and barged past him, grabbing a thick woollen cloak that lay across the back of his armchair. She bundled it around his shoulders and nodded, happy. ‘There, now that’s better.’

  Coinin escorted them from the bowels of the golden temple and into the windless chill of the winter morning. He limped his way to the left of the temple and skirted a grove of thick trees. Behind this a small village of stone and wood lay, blanketed in snow. The residents appeared to be up and about, smoke from fires evidence of that. A brother could be seen outside his humble house chopping wood for his fire. The village, a circle of homes that radiated outward, had all the usual trading points for items needed to run a home. It had been purposely built to accommodate the majority of those who worked daily at the temple and had been extended on several occasions to cater for demand.

  Coinin knew Jericho lived here. However, he was unsure of the exact location and asked Aniol to lead him to the General’s home. Aniol strode forward, her legs sinking into drifts of snow that had blown in overnight. Several breathless minutes later they arrived outside of a drab stone building that appeared to have once been a well cared for home which had sadly been left to seed.

  Wooden shutters sealed the windows from the harsh winter, although these had seen better days, and by their appearance let in more wind than they kept out. Coinin rapped loudly on the wooden door, and a moment later he heard shuffling inside the building. The door opened with a scrape of wood on wood and Jericho looked out warily.

  He appeared to be half asleep, and Coinin could smell the unmistakable aroma of alcohol. He sensed that Jericho was still mourning the loss of his wife, who had been murdered several months before. It was obvious to him that alcohol played a significant part in the man’s life as he attempted to use it to drown out his sorrow. Jericho had never given him concern as a soldier, and when sober, he was invaluable. However, he would speak with Menin at some point on their return and ask her to give counsel to the General. In the meantime, he hoped their travels would provide a suitable distraction for him.

  ‘General, please forgive me for disturbing you so early, but I am eager to begin our voyage,’ Coinin apologised.

  ‘Evidently,’ Jericho mumbled with a hint of annoyance and stepped outside into the cold air. He flapped his arms about his naked torso and grabbed handfuls of snow that he then used to wash his face and armpits. Done, he invited the trio inside his home.

  The interior was humbling, to say the least, far removed from the luxury of the temple. Coinin felt guilty that Jericho lived in such modest surroundings, something he would again approach Menin to address.

  Jericho hastily hid a pitcher of ale out of sight under his sleeping cot and turned back to face the group.

  ‘Give me a moment to get ready, and I’ll be right with you,’ he announced and stepped into a darkened corner of the room. They could hear him mumbling to himself but were unable to hear the words distinctly.

  Coinin leant forward to Aniol. ‘He shouldn’t be living like this,’ he whispered.

  She nodded in agreement. ‘It’s sad indeed to see my uncle a man I respect so much, reduced to this,’ she whispered in return.

  ‘Perhaps he should remain behind?’ Axl murmured.

  Coinin frowned at him. ‘Thank you Axl, though I do think that would make him worse. No, he must come, if only to take his mind off his wife,’ he replied.

  ‘What are you lot whispering about?’ Jericho called from his corner.

  Coinin looked at Aniol wide-eyed, unable to answer, and she looked just as lost for words until Axl spoke. ‘We were discussing my marriage to Aniol,’ he lied.

  Jericho stepped into a path of light cast through the slats in the windows shutters. His face looked unconvinced, and then he brightened slightly. ‘Good news indeed. Well, Curator, I am at your disposal,’ he said.

  ‘I would like you to coordinate our voyage to Rostha, and oversee the protection of the Archmage in the city. I wish to observe and learn your tactics first hand. Please gather your men and meet us in the Great Hall in one hour,’ Coinin said.

  ‘As you wish.’ There was a tone to his voice that did not go unnoticed, yet he did not seem to mind who heard it. He indicated that they should follow him outside, where he would lead the way. The door opened, and the chill hit them immediately. In the distance, they heard a cock crow its morning cry. Late, thought Aniol.

  Jericho shut his door tight and strode off ahead of them.

  ‘He’s not handling Eraywen’s death well is he?’ Axl observed.

  ‘It is obvious to me that he blames himself for Aunt Eraywen’s death.’ Aniol reasoned.

  ‘He has hidden it well up until now. I just hope his grief does not become an issue,’ Coinin replied.

  ❖

  Coinin and Menin faced a group of twenty men and women commanded by General Jericho, who appeared happier now that he was able to busy himself with official duties.

  Each soldier had been ordered to dress as simple townsfolk from Rosthagaar or Westeroe so as not to arouse suspicion. This was, after all, a secret mission. Draken leant against a stone column and watched proceedings quietly. He, too, had dressed in a thick woollen cloak and smirked to himself. Little did these fools know that Lordich was well aware of their plans. He had told the dark mage of their intentions and would continue to do so as long as it was a benefit to himself.

  The Great Hall was sealed and guards placed at the entrances to ensure the final plans remained a secret. Archmage Menin clapped her hands together and gathered immediate silence. She looked unusual dressed not in white, but a simple plain brown cloak.

  ‘Brothers and sisters, the time for action is upon us. We are at war with an old adversary. In an unprovoked attack they very nearly overran this sacred place, and now we must take the fight to them. Lordich and his Brotherhoo
d of the Dragon have for the last time defiled this temple. We will find him and punish him once and for all.’ She looked defiant and then saddened. ‘I will not lie to you when I say that some of you may not return, and I ask that those here today who do not wish to undertake this task, to please step forward.’

  Each in attendance looked around briefly, and Coinin flicked his eyes towards Draken and saw that he had not moved. Satisfied and grateful, Menin smiled and stepped in amongst the gathered.

  ‘Let us pray,’ Menin announced. She led the group to the central light well, and each soldier held the hand of their neighbour and bowed their head in prayer.

  The blue light that emanated from the marble prayer well began to glow brighter, and the accompanying red light that wound around it pulsed faster to exit via the domed glass ceiling.

  ‘Mighty Rindor, High King of the Gods, I beseech thee. Protect thy brethren as they undertake a most challenging feat to protect thy very name. Grant them the power to defeat their foe, and the will to stand steadfast in the face of danger. We ask this with humility and give our lives freely to thy service. So be it.’

  Each in attendance echoed her, and the simple prayer had an instant morale-boosting effect. They knew that the prayer would be carried directly to the home of the gods caught up in the beam of light from the well. It had been that way for thousands of years. The prayers of the world carried in this manner to Rol’as to meet the gods. Each major town and city on Er’ath had a temple to Rindor, and each held a column of light that would offer a comforting sight to a weary traveller, for when they saw it reach to the sky from the middle of their city, they knew they would arrive home soon after that.

  Menin released her grasp of the soldier next to her and nodded to Jericho. She then walked away to meet Zaruun and Nethlith, her personal guards. Jericho called his men to him, and Coinin wandered over to his uncle.

  ‘Are you ready Draken?’ Coinin asked.

  Draken looked less than pleased. ‘Well I do think it’s foolhardy that we leave in mid-winter, but that’s your decision, and who am I to argue,’ he replied.

  ‘I am open to your counsel uncle. However, I fear our search for Marrok will take some time, and the longer that we delay the—’

  ‘I know my boy,’ Draken interrupted. ‘Let’s go and see what must be done. If we must go, there’s no point standing about here all day.’

  Draken walked towards the gathered group and then changed his mind. He returned to Coinin and wrapped a long, bony arm around his nephew's shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s get moving.’

  Coinin felt oddly comforted by the older man. His actions were unusual and did seem to suggest there was a gentle side to his hard, uncaring persona, something that Coinin assumed had been missing since his uncle had learned of his brother Ædelmær’s death.

  The Brotherhood soldiers were in the act of picking up sacks and boxes ready for transport. They loaded them onto wooden handcarts, and once heavily laden; they heaved them from the Great Hall.

  ‘Where are we going with the supplies?’ Coinin asked Jericho.

  ‘To the dock below the temple. Please grab a box and follow me,’ Jericho replied and bent himself to collect a large sack that he slung over his shoulder.

  Coinin picked up a heavy box and immediately regretted his decision. It was a substantial weight, and his muscles felt the strain. Even so, he persevered. He had much to prove to this team of people willing to give their lives to tracking down Marrok, and if that meant carrying a heavy box, then it was a small sacrifice to pay. He heard Draken grunt behind him. ‘Nobody said I would be a pack mule,’ he complained.

  Coinin chuckled to himself. He had not changed, he was the same old Draken.

  Jericho led them out of the Great Hall and along the main corridor. Ahead of them, orbs of light lit the way for the quickly disappearing handcarts. As they exited the temple entrance, brothers and sisters lined the pathway out of the sanctuary.

  ‘So much for secrecy,’ Jericho called over his shoulder.

  Coinin was moved; the impromptu show of support by his brethren was heart-warming, and he felt a warm glow as each nodded to him or smiled. As he neared the end of the line, Master Ignatius Rindwold stepped forward and blocked his path. He draped a lambskin bladder over Coinin’s shoulder and then leant in conspiratorially.

  ‘I’ve been experimenting with a new brew. It has a kick, but it’s sure to keep you warm at night. I call it Whi’sky after my mother,’ Ignatius chirped.

  Coinin beamed at him. ‘Thank you, Brother Rindwold.’ Sidestepping the winemaker, he continued on his path.

  They walked by the statue of Marrok that stood proudly alongside his father Ædelmær’s and exited the temple ground via the newly rebuilt gateway. They turned left and followed the wall until they reached the far rock sides of the volcano. Archmage Menin stepped forward and held her arms aloft. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Coinin stepped forward to see better what she was doing.

  It started as a low rumble, and then the ground began to shake violently. Coinin felt unsteady on his feet and saw that others around him were also unstable. Menin’s voice swept from Soprano to Contralto, a range of high and low notes that coordinated with the ground shakes. A cracking sound surrounded them, and Coinin saw that an arch-shaped crack had appeared in the rock wall. Seconds later the arch shaped section opened inwards to reveal a dark tunnel behind.

  Menin stopped humming and retrieved a wooden staff from Zaruun, and then stepped into the darkness of the tunnel. Coinin saw the tip of Menin’s staff glow white and wondered if she would be the only source of light.

  Jericho nudged him then. ‘After you Curator,’ he said, and held a flaming torch aloft.

  An old uneasiness overcame Coinin, and he felt closed in and sick. He was not fond of enclosed spaces, and this tunnel reminded him of one he had traversed several months ago, which had been equally claustrophobic.

  The tunnel echoed eerily from the sounds of footsteps, and the flames from handheld torches bounced off the hand-hewn walls and cast strange shadows across the faces of his companions.

  Jericho caught up with him and saw that even in the dim and flickering light he looked pale. ‘Are you feeling well Curator?’

  Coinin looked at Jericho and grimaced, the usual formal tone lost. ‘I’m fine, this box is heavy,’ he replied.

  ‘My apologies Curator, I shall have one of my men take that for you.’

  ‘No, no, I’m fine. It’s only fair that I do my part.’

  ‘At least swap the box for my sack,’ Jericho offered.

  Coinin at first shook his head and then agreed with a nod. He would get to hold the torch and that at least comforted him. He and Jericho swapped loads, and they carried on with Coinin now a little happier.

  After several more doorways expertly opened by Menin, the tunnel began to drop steeper, and as it wound its way left it opened out onto a deep chasm. A walkway circled the drop, and now they would continue on this path until they reached the bottom. Coinin felt pity for the soldiers who humped the handcarts; the walkway had no railing, and it was a sheer drop to the watery depths far below. A new light given off by the rocks helped to illuminate the way.

  He heard Menin’s voice at the head of the group singing, and this set everyone off.

  ♫

  Rindor’s Might and Rindor’s way, from this we shall not sway.

  Go to war; defeat the foe, in justice, truth, and honour so …

  ♫

  Coinin smiled to himself. Menin was at it again, finding a way to keep the troops occupied, and she was good at it. Orodor had made the right decision when he chose her as his successor.

  ❖

  They had almost reached the bottom of the chasm, and Coinin looked up and saw how far they had travelled. He gave a low whistle. No wonder his ankle ached terribly.

  Ahead, the chasm widened, and the distinct rush of seawater could be heard sloshing against the rock walls. He caught glimpses of it as it swelled s
everal feet below them. They rounded a bend, and he saw a large coastal vessel, designed to carry goods between the island and the mainland. It was moored to a jetty and happily bobbed up and down gently to the swell of water. It was narrow beamed and high of prow, and, from what Coinin could see, did not possess a mast or sail. Instead, a dozen large oars angled towards the sky and exited the ship via small holes cut into its side. This configuration he saw permitted the vessel to get in close to the jetty.

  At first, there did not appear to be an exit to the cavern. Then he spotted, along the far end of the dock and nearest the cave wall, a large hand crank attached to a thick iron chain that ran up the rock wall, before disappearing into the gloom. He tapped Jericho on the shoulder. ‘General, how are we getting out of here?’ he asked.

  ‘You see the crank? That will open a great rock door, and we will sail on through. One man must be left behind to close it. I advise that you step on board the boat and dump your cargo in the hold. We will set sail soon.’

  A hustle and bustle erupted around him as soldiers arrived with their cargo and began to load the boat. He did as asked, and walked up a narrow gangplank that connected the jetty to the vessel. Feeling it move with the swell, he hopped off too quickly and slipped on the wet deck, landing hard.

  A young private nearby laughed out loud, and then looked white when he realised who had fallen. He immediately rushed to Coinin’s aid, full of apologies. ‘I’m sorry, Curator, I didn’t know it was you. Forgive me,’ he stuttered.

  Coinin gratefully accepted the aid from the private and stood. ‘That’s quite alright. If you can’t laugh at yourself now and then, when can you?’ He clapped the young soldier on the back and laughed with him.

  Looking about him, he noted a small wooden cabin to the front of the boat. It was painted green, and he thought it looked out of place. Being so used to the red, white and gold of The Brotherhood, he felt that the green just seemed odd.