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

by Harrison Davies

  Coinin joined Jericho. ‘Rescue?’

  Jericho shook his head. ‘No, that won’t work here. We need to do this officially. Let’s find the lodgings where our soldiers are waiting, then head back to the boat and outfit the men. I want to pay the King a visit.’ He rubbed at his beard thoughtfully.

  ‘What do you plan to do?’ Aniol asked.

  ‘I plan to march up to the castle as representatives of The Brotherhood of The Wulf, and demand the return of the Archmage,’ Jericho replied. ‘By law, the King must grant us an audience, and we will get to the bottom of this.’

  ‘What if the King has some ill will towards us?’ Coinin added.

  ‘Despite his current feelings towards us, we still protect his lands so that he doesn’t have to; we’re useful to him. But just in case, I will leave one man behind with instructions to seek assistance from the temple if we do not return by day’s end.’ He turned his back to the castle and got his bearings. The fight between the Orc and half-giant had finished, and the crowd had dissipated. This gave them free access across the road.

  They walked together quickly down the hill until they reached an alleyway that they recognised as the one they had exited earlier. They moved swiftly on and soon reached the same run down slum as before. Here, dozens of hostelries and boarding houses lined the main thoroughfare, each with a swinging sign above the main entrance.

  Coinin turned to Jericho. ‘In which boarding house are they staying?’

  ‘I’m unsure.’

  ‘That’s going to make things difficult,’ Aniol said. ‘There must be two dozen boarding houses in the street alone.’

  ‘Thank you for stating the obvious.’

  ‘General,’ Coinin said sternly, ‘I don’t think that’s an appropriate way to talk to Aniol.’

  Jericho looked staggered for a moment and then bowed to her. ‘My apologies Aniol, your master is correct. It was inappropriate of me to speak that way. I am merely concerned for Laliala’s safety.’

  ‘As are we all, General,’ Coinin reminded. ‘Perhaps now if we can move to the task at hand? I propose that to search for these men the traditional way would take too long. I suggest that I search the soldiers out with my gift. It may offer us speedier success.’

  Aniol and Jericho stepped back while Coinin closed his eyes and brought his hands to his temple. Very quickly, he allowed the noise and smells of the city to fade into the background as he entered a state of deep concentration, focusing his mind on solely locating Lieutenant Reena Lifor who he knew had joined them on this critical mission. He had used this simple gift given to him by Rindor hundreds of times over the past months in his search for Marrok, and to find Reena would pose no problem for him.

  Almost as if a pail of water had been thrown over him, he became immersed in a world of colour and light, enabling him to distinguish groups of people as red and the houses as yellow. He had learnt that when he sought out an individual, their aura appeared as either green or blue.

  A trailing turquoise light, almost like a silk ribbon, undulated its way from him and he followed it, his eyes closed to the real world, and yet he never faltered in his step. Several buildings down on the left, the ribbon of light stopped and passed through the door. Coinin snapped awake to find Jericho and Aniol already by his side.

  ‘That was a strange sight to see indeed,’ said Jericho. ‘I was certain you would trip, with your eyes being closed like that.’

  ‘So did I at first, but Laliala taught me to trust in my abilities. We will find Lieutenant Lifor inside that building,’ he pointed.

  Aniol leant in close to Coinin and smiled knowingly. ‘Trust you to search her out.’ Coinin did not respond. She was right, he did harbour deep feelings for Reena, though sadly his office forbade him to interact on a personal level with her.

  Jericho pushed open the wooden door to a rather weatherworn boarding house and stepped inside, followed closely by the others. His hand automatically wrapped around the hilt of his sword in readiness for any eventuality that might occur.

  He peered into the gloom and waited just a moment for his eyes to adjust to the new light level. He had heard them before he saw them, as each soldier rose sharply at his presence and stood to attention. Jericho shook his head and closed his eyes in dismay. So much for staying incognito, he thought. ‘Sit down you fools,’ he growled and stepped into the unlit room.

  The only illumination came from dirt-ridden windows that cast streams of light only visible as dust particles flittered in and out of them. He saw several wooden tables around which sat his troops. Jericho noted that Lieutenant Lifor stood and waited beside a grubby desk, which he presumed the owner used to check in guests. He joined the young woman a moment later.

  ‘Lieutenant,’ he said in hushed tones. ‘I need you to lead the men back to the boat and kit them out in temple armour.’

  ‘Temple armour?’ she asked. ‘I thought we were here in secret.’

  ‘I don’t have time to explain right now; please do as I ask,’ Jericho urged. ‘All will become clear later.’

  ‘At once, Sir,’ Reena nodded, and hurried away. She approached each table in the room and whispered to the men sat there. They at once stood and filed from the room into the daylight outside, with Jericho, Coinin and Aniol following close behind.

  ❖

  The boat rocked slightly as the temple soldiers hurried down the stairs and into the storage area below. They had been told to dress in temple attire and be prepared to move out within thirty minutes.

  ‘So you see, Reena, we need to march to the castle and rescue the Archmage,’ Jericho said.

  ‘And Draken,’ Coinin added.

  ‘Of course, him too,’ he agreed, though he did not look too thrilled at the prospect of Draken rejoining them.

  Lieutenant Lifor looked perturbed by the news of Menin’s apparent capture and turned to bellow into the space below decks.

  ‘Hurry up, this is urgent! Waste no time!’ She yelled. A clamour could be heard under their feet, and heavy boots moved quickly and noisily ahead of the owners who appeared one by one up the flight of steps. Nineteen men and women stood proudly to attention. Gleaming armour with red sashes adorned them, and sharp, serrated swords hung ready at their sides. Two standard bearers headed the column that had automatically formed in front of Jericho. On red cloth, wolf paws over a sun disc fluttered in the breeze. Thick, rectangular steel shields, held facing outwards, protected the sides of the column.

  Jericho dropped his cloak and reached behind him. He dug inside a wooden crate and extracted a suit of armour from within. With the aid of Lieutenant Lifor, he donned it quickly. He next placed on his head a shining helmet topped with a plume of red feathers. Looking every bit the General, he saluted his unit with a crash of steel bracer on plate armour.

  ❖

  Marrok sat alone in the darkness of his cell, confused and disorientated. Unknown hands had taken him at regular intervals to new larger chambers, bound and gagged. There they subjected him to regular beatings, and all the time he felt he was being watched. He never once heard a sound from his captors. His jailers wore hooded cloaks and gloves that disguised their faces and hands, so he had no idea if they were human or not. He got the sense that they were softening him up in preparation for something.

  Today was different. The noise of keys in the solid wooden door startled him from his thoughts. The usual hooded figures entered the room, and strong hands lifted him to his feet. They then marched him from the cell and escorted him unbound. Instead of going left, they turned right.

  He had become so used to the daily routine that now this change in the norm had him concerned. His breathing quickened, and he resisted his jailers. They gripped him harder and hoisted him from his feet and marched forward. This reminded him of his initial capture.

  His journey in a large wooden ship supported by a large bladder of air was far from idyllic. He had been shackled to a large wooden beam in the hold and subjected to taunts and the amorous
attentions of the Captain. They had thankfully fed and watered him, and although not a huge amount, it was enough to sustain him.

  They had travelled for many days, and he saw neither the sun nor the direction they had travelled, nothing useful he could use for escape. The conditions in which he was kept were filthy, and he was forced to spend each day in his own soiled clothing.

  Jailers dragged him unceremoniously into a brightly lit room, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the new light level. He saw the fuzzy outline of a tall figure ahead of him, and then a heavily scarred face looked down at him with cold green eyes. He saw in his periphery a crowd of dark-hooded individuals sitting in a semicircle around the central figure.

  The room was little more than a rocky cavern with sharp stalactites hanging from the ceiling. Marrok felt as if he were being led to the slaughter and the onlookers around the room were a bloodthirsty crowd in some sickening game.

  ‘Welcome Marrok to my home from home. I am only sorry that your treatment has been inadequate.’

  Marrok eyed Lordich warily. He got the sense that this man had not been entirely truthful with him. ‘Then why let it happen?’ he asked.

  ‘I was unaware of your treatment until today. I have been otherwise engaged.’ The hideously scarred man stepped closer to Marrok who found himself pushed to his knees by the strong hands of his jailers.

  The figure held out a long bony hand and rested it upon Marrok’s head in a fatherly fashion. ‘I assure you that this treatment will stop today. Though I do require a little something in return,’ said the grey-faced man.

  Marrok studied Lordich, the heavily malformed face sickened him, and a revulsion rose like bile within him. ‘What could you possibly want from me?’ he asked.

  The man walked slowly and deliberately around Marrok, all the time playing with the young man’s hair, looping it around his long fingers. ‘I want you to join me on a quest,’ he said.

  ‘And what is that?’ Marrok enquired.

  ‘I believe you have the strength and will to follow me. I want you to help me rid this world of The Brotherhood of The Wulf, remove any trace that they existed, and bring to power The Brotherhood of The Dragon.’

  ‘So, that’s your plan?’ Marrok spat.

  ‘I thought that was self-evident,’ Lordich sneered, and then his face relaxed quickly.

  ‘I will not join you; my loyalties lie elsewhere.’

  ‘Why do you align yourself with that archaic brotherhood, when you can become mightier and more powerful than you ever imagined by my side?’

  ‘One reason: my brother. He will never join you and because of my loyalty to him neither will I.’

  ‘A misplaced loyalty indeed. I had hoped to persuade you without resorting to magic to achieve my goal.’ Lordich grabbed a handful of Marrok’s hair and snapped his head back.

  ‘You realise, of course, that with or without my aid, Rindor will destroy this planet if we do not unite the Swords of Cerathil,’ Marrok fumed through the pain Lordich inflicted upon him.

  Lordich laughed hollowly and addressed the other onlookers in the room. ‘You see, an old wives tale I assure you. The Brotherhood of The Wulf and their pathetic obsession with rusty old swords,’ he mocked, although Marrok sensed the man did not quite believe his own rhetoric. ‘It is a tale designed to keep the masses in order, nothing more.’

  ‘It is not a tale, it is true. The swords exist. I know; I have located one of them.’ Marrok insisted.

  ‘It is a myth boy, created by The Brotherhood merely to gain control. The Order of The Dragon has permitted their lies for far too long. They deserve to be punished for deceiving the people in this manner.’ Lordich’s voice rose an octave. ‘I will relish the day they fall, and the new world order rises to lead the people. And you, Marrok, will be at my side to witness it.’

  ❖

  Castle Rostha loomed, its high walls dominating the landscape and effectively hiding what lay behind. Guards walked the battlements and paused upon seeing unknown soldiers approaching. The column, headed by General Jericho and Coinin, marched quickly up the incline and over a stone bridge to an archway just off the main road. It was guarded by a handful of castle guards who looked bored and unkempt in their tattered green tabards that hung loosely over rusting armour.

  ‘No pride in their appearance,’ clucked Aniol, shaking her head.

  The castle guards stood to and brandished long spears worriedly at the approaching force.

  ‘Make way for The Brotherhood of The Wulf,’ Jericho bellowed.

  ‘You have no business here,’ said a brave guard, whom Jericho assumed must be their Serjeant.

  Jericho ignored the man and stepped forward to within a foot of him. He looked down at the soldier and gave his best commanding voice. ‘Curator Wulf demands an audience with King Hantestum. Now scuttle off and see that we are not waiting, or I will have your neck stretched.’

  The guard looked exceedingly unsure of himself and unconsciously reached for his throat. He thought better of it than to argue. He would consult with his Captain, and leave it in his hands. Backing off, he almost tripped over the man behind him, and then turned and rushed beneath the archway, his sword swinging at his side.

  Coinin heard him yelling, and being unable to discern the words he assumed that more guards were being called to arms. He looked nervously at Jericho who had rejoined him.

  Jericho winked. ‘Don’t worry Curator, I deal with this kind of thing all the time,’ he assured.

  ‘What happens if he comes back with a bigger army?’ Coinin asked.

  ‘He won’t trust me.’

  Heavy boots echoing through the archway ahead of them drew their attention. Out of the shadows, a dozen more guards marched behind the Serjeant and a new, more suitably attired soldier, a Captain judging by the insignia on his tunic, joined the troops. The guards fanned out to protect the entrance to the castle.

  ‘Then again, I have been known to be wrong on occasion,’ Jericho grimaced.

  Coinin sighed and stepped forward and held his arms apart in submission. ‘Friends, I bring you greetings from The Brotherhood of The Wulf. I am Curator Wulf, and I seek my friends who may be lost. Perhaps you could assist me?’

  The smartly dressed Captain stepped forward and sneered down at him. ‘I know nothing of your friends, and you have no business being here. You will leave immediately, or I will be forced to remove you.’

  Coinin continued as if the man had not spoken. ‘My friends are of exceptional importance to me, and it would sadden me greatly if I were unable to find them.’

  ‘Last chance boy; leave now, or you will regret it.’

  Coinin flushed angrily, his eyes focused intently on the man standing between him and the castle entrance. This was yet another delay on his quest to find Marrok, and he had had enough. He leant in close and whispered. ‘You do know who The Brotherhood are? People of exceptional magic ability and military might. I, for one, could, with one word, turn you into a rat and feed you to the kitchen cat. I would prefer that we settle this amicably. I know that my uncle has been taken inside this castle against his will, and if need be, I will return with the full force and power of The Brotherhood behind me. So I ask again, where are my friends?’

  The man before him turned white at the thought of being turned into a rat. He had seen the power of a mage once before in a battle many years ago. Then there was the thought what the King would do to him if he let these people enter the castle. Which would be worse, life as a rat, or a beheading?

  He looked sourly at Coinin and backed away. ‘The boy and one other may enter,’ he yelled to his men. At this, they parted to allow access to the archway.

  Coinin looked to Jericho for guidance. ‘I don’t know what you said to him, but you’ve done well so far by yourself. I do think, however, that I should accompany you inside, if only for your protection,’ said the older man.

  Coinin sensed Aniol stiffen at this, and nodded to the General. ‘It is better th
at you accompany me to handle any court matters that I am unfamiliar with.’ He turned to Aniol. ‘I need you to stay close by and gather what aid you can if we have not returned by sundown.’

  Aniol bowed, a little disappointed, and signalled to the troops to fall back. She then grasped Coinin’s arm firmly. ‘Be safe my friend,’ she told him, forced a smile and then fell back.

  Coinin took a deep breath and stepped into the shadow of the castle entranceway followed closely by Jericho. They walked together, escorted by the Captain.

  ‘You do realise we are about to accuse a King of kidnap?’ Jericho whispered.

  ‘The Brotherhood has served this kingdom without question at Rindor’s will for thousands of years. By what right does he dishonour us like this?’ Coinin replied.

  ‘There’s something not right about this; I feel it in my bones. The Order is supposed to be granted unfettered access to the King at any given moment. This is highly unusual.’

  They were shown through a high walled courtyard and along a cobbled footpath to a second archway complete with portcullis and thick wooden gates.

  The Captain knocked three times with the hilt of his sword on a small access door built into the gate. A panel slid back, and a pair of eyes peered out at them before the panel slid shut with a thud. The gates, as high as several men, opened ponderously, and a shaft of bright sunlight from beyond lit the darker courtyard. Coinin wondered why the guard on the other side had not just opened the access door. It would have been far easier. Or was this an attempt to intimidate?

  Castle Rostha looked drab in comparison to the Temple of The Wulf. The stonework, made from sandstone, was under attack from the elements and had begun to crumble. The joints between the mighty chunks of stone were green, and like the blocks around them, deteriorated. It rose a dozen storeys into the air with high windows that overlooked the city. At each corner, a tower reached into the sky. Smooth cobblestone made up the courtyard before them, polished through years of traffic, and they found it slippery underfoot. The yard was devoid of people, and the whole of the castle itself felt oppressive. Once luscious trees now stood dying or dead in rows leading up to a set of grand steps bisecting a portico. They took the steps and nodded to a single guard stationed outside of a high door braced with iron struts.