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

by Harrison Davies

  Coinin entered the room and tossed the keys to Hur’al who caught the ring deftly, despite his lack of depth perception. He closed the door after him and heard the lock engage at a turn of the key. Coinin sank into deep concentration and pictured himself in his own body, and like before, a waterfall of emotion and light overcame him, and his essence floated above the jailer’s body. Seconds later he found himself back in his own, and not until Jericho heard the jailer yelling furiously from the other side of the door did he release Coinin.

  ‘Welcome back, Curator.’

  ‘I have to say that was a great trick,’ said Hur’al approvingly. ‘Did Lala teach you that?’

  ‘No, I did not,’ said Menin haughtily. ‘And how many times have I told you to stop calling me Lala?’

  Hur’al winked secretively at Coinin and smirked. ‘Sorry Laliala, old habits die hard.’

  Menin suddenly cried out and rushed to Coinin, tilted his head forward and looked at the back of his neck. ‘What has happened to you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Coinin asked, attempting to remove himself from her grasp.

  ‘Your neck bleeds. Are you hurt?’ She lowered two fingers covered in blood for him to see.

  ‘I don’t recall any injury. Do you have a rag to clean the wound?’ Coinin replied apprehensively.

  Zaruun tore a strip of material from his shirt and handed it to Menin, who wiped away the blood.

  Immediately Coinin’s neck began to weep again, and she wiped it away as before. ‘There is no wound, just a scar,’ Menin said puzzled.

  Upon closer inspection, Coinin’s neck bled from the skull shaped scar he had acquired during an altercation with Death.

  ‘The skull?’ Coinin asked, a panic rising in him. ‘What if Death is close by?’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Draken asked. ‘He cannot take physical form.’

  ‘Death gave me the scar on the back of my neck after my battle with him, and now it has suddenly begun to weep blood. It’s not a tall order to assume he is close, perhaps even possessing the King in some way,’ Coinin said, holding the fragment of Jericho’s shirt to his neck.

  ‘It would make the most sense to explain why the King has acted out of character,’ said Menin. ‘Did you not feel Death’s presence?’

  Coinin shook his head. ‘No, I felt nothing, and it’s far too much of a coincidence to be unrelated. Death, if he is here, has succeeded where others have failed. He has successfully delayed us in our quest so far.’

  ‘Then we need to get out of here as soon as possible. No more talk, let’s move,’ Jericho ordered.

  No one argued with him as he led the way along the damp corridor to the exit ahead. Draken spotted his leather pack laid upon the jailer’s table and swiftly retrieved it. He opened it and checked the contents with a satisfied smiled. The jailer had not seen fit to rummage through it, to Draken’s relief.

  Jericho opened the wooden door at the end of the corridor and peeked up the flight of steps. ‘It appears empty,’ he hissed and opened the door wider.

  They crept up the steps and felt a cold breeze filter through a crack at the bottom of the door at the top of the flight.

  Coinin bit his lip and held back a yell. He had scraped his knuckles on the rough stone wall of the stairwell and sucked at the raw flesh with his mouth.

  Jericho repeated his door peek before stepping cautiously into the castle corridor. Ahead of him, two castle guards were deep in conversation, facing away from him. He turned his head and brought a finger to his lips to indicate silence. As quietly as a cat he crept towards the men, and mere inches from his target he wrapped a strong arm around the throat of the man to his left. Using his right arm, he whipped his captive’s sword from its scabbard, and with a swish, he held it against the throat of the other guard before he had a moment to react. With both guards shoved against the wall, he signalled for the others to rejoin him.

  Moments later, the others arrived to subdue the guards and relieve them of their remaining weapons and uniforms.

  ‘Take this pair downstairs, lock them in a cell and come back here. Quick now,’ Jericho hissed to Hur’al and Draken.

  Draken held a hand over the mouth of his captive and cooed into his ear. ‘Come quietly, and you will not be harmed.’

  Jericho worked quickly to don the uniform and armour of a castle guard and looked most uncomfortable to be wearing the rough woollen undershirt.

  ‘What’s the plan General?’ Menin asked.

  ‘Hur’al and yours truly, dressed as guards, will escort you as prisoners from the castle,’ Jericho replied, looking a little on edge. ‘Where are Hur’al and Draken?’

  Coinin checked behind him and spotted them coming. ‘Here they are,’ he said.

  Hur’al arrived first, a little out of breath. ‘Sorry about that, they put up a fight down below. Didn’t last long mind you, the old man can really move.’ He nodded to Draken. ‘Quick as lightning they were both unconscious,’ he said animatedly.

  Jericho looked to Draken and gave him a courteous nod. ‘Hur’al, please dress in the guard’s uniform. I intend for us to escort these three from the castle.’

  Hur’al’s eyes lit up. ‘I love it,’ he smiled and bent to gather the first piece of uniform only to turn up his nose at the smell. ‘This I don’t love,’ he chuckled. ‘Smells like below decks on The Peregrine. That’s my ship, by the way.’

  ‘Which I am sure we will see very soon if you hurry up,’ Menin chivvied.

  Hur’al rolled his eyes and accepted the assistance of Jericho to dress quickly. The uniform felt snug but passable. He and Jericho placed heavy steel helmets over their heads that covered most of the face, and each retrieved a spear from the floor. Their own armour was wrapped in cloaks and carried by Coinin and Zaruun.

  ‘I suggest the Curator, Draken, Zaruun and the Archmage walk between Hur’al and I, and we will walk out of the front gate as bold as brass,’ Jericho told them.

  ‘And if we’re stopped?’ Draken asked.

  ‘Bluff our way out of the situation, or kill. The choice will be clear,’ Jericho replied directly. ‘If things turn sour, I will shout for you to run, and that is exactly what you should do.’

  Jericho led the prisoner escort down the same long corridor that led to the exit; thankfully no guards patrolled this section. He pushed open the great entrance doors to the castle and stepped into the courtyard. A guard to Jericho’s right stiffened.

  ‘Hey, you can’t bring prisoners out of this door,’ said the guard gruffly.

  Jericho thought quickly. ‘The Captain’s orders; the dungeon exit is frozen with ice.’

  ‘Where are you taking them anyway?’ the guard inquired.

  Jericho was stumped for a second and Hur’al answered hurriedly. ‘The King wants them to undergo the trials. He’s ordered us to take them to the stadium,’ he said. ‘Now enough with the questions, we have to get moving.’

  The guard grunted and waved them on. ‘I just hope they survive longer than the last lot,’ he called after them.

  They ignored him and hurried as quickly as they dared towards the gated entranceway, ever aware at any moment they might be discovered.

  That event came quicker than expected. Without warning, a single arrow whizzed past Hur’al’s head and embedded itself above the man-sized hatch of the exit gates. This caught the attention of the guard manning the gate, and he withdrew his sword and stood ready. An alarm bell rang from somewhere above them. They had been discovered, and that meant one thing. They had to run.

  Jericho wasted no time; he lowered his spear and charged the guard ahead of him. The guard attempted to bat the spear from his path, except Jericho had been prepared, and the guard was impaled through the shoulder and into the gate. He screamed in agony and held onto the long shaft of the spear in an attempt to lessen the impalement.

  ‘Quickly now, through the gate,’ Jericho yelled as he unfastened the hatch. A fresh volley of arrows impacted around them and spurred them through.
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  They would be unable to secure the hatch, and more guards were streaming from the castle entrance and running their way. Jericho took one last look at the men bearing down on them and swung the hatch closed. He saw the others stood there waiting and shook his head. ‘Run!’ he yelled. ‘They’re coming!’

  Draken took the lead, with Zaruun left to assist Menin to hurry along, her wounds still sore. A noise above them stopped them in their tracks, and they craned their necks to look. A dozen archers had arrived on the battlements above them and aimed, though did not shoot. Next, King Hantestum stood gloating down at the escapees trapped in the small killing space between the two entrances. The ground shook as two heavy portcullises thundered closed, trapping them.

  ‘I suggest that you give yourselves up; you have nowhere to run,’ the King called down to them.

  Menin whispered something into Coinin’s ear; he nodded and then stepped away from her slowly and deliberately.

  ‘We know who you are demon,’ Jericho yelled back.

  ‘And who might I be?’ the King asked.

  ‘Death has possessed the King; he is under his control.’

  Hantestum laughed heartily. ‘What nonsense this man speaks.’

  ‘Look around you, how different everything is. The city is practically in ruin, his castle is crumbling, and now he imprisons his allies. Is that the workings of the King you know?’ Jericho appealed to the guards.

  A murmur ran around the archers. They had indeed witnessed a great change in their King.

  ‘Enough!’ Hantestum shouted. ‘Kill them!’

  Coinin reacted with surprising speed. He had been preparing for this moment. He had silently gathered strength from the elemental forces around him and struck in a heartbeat. Menin had taught him a simple destruction spell during their lessons, and he had become adept at using it. He released the force he had built with such ferocity that Menin, Draken, Hur’al, and Jericho were all blown off their feet as a ball of expanding energy blew a hole in first the wall leading to the city and then partially destroyed the crenellated wall above them. Debris fell around them, and a dust cloud blocked the view from above. Despite this, several arrows whizzed over their heads. The archers were taking pot shots.

  Zaruun heaved Menin to her feet. ‘Come on; we don’t have much time,’ he yelled.

  Hur’al assisted Draken to stand, and noted how pale the man looked. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked.

  Draken stared at him, though his eyes appeared unfocused. ‘I think so,’ he replied, a stain of blood running down his face.

  ‘We’ll get you out of here and see to your wounds,’ Hur’al reassured.

  Screams of pain and yells of anger followed them as they exited the castle and fled into the city. Ahead lay the stone bridge that led to the city’s main street. Shocked citizens stood back, awed by the gaping hole in the side of the entranceway. Four guards at the entrance, who had been bowled over with the force of Coinin’s spell, picked themselves up from the ground and charged the runaways. Jericho withdrew his sword from its scabbard and prepared to defend the fleers.

  Seconds later he swung, and with a clash of steel, the first guard’s sword fell away, giving Jericho enough time to grab him by the throat and thrust the sword deep inside the gut of his attacker. He kicked the body away, and it collided with an oncoming guard who collapsed on the ground under the dead weight. The remaining two guards roared and charged him, swords drawn. Jericho twisted at just the right moment and sliced at one fatally. The last remaining guard saw his dead comrade fall and took flight.

  Jericho rejoined Menin. ‘That’s not getting any easier,’ he breathed heavily.

  ‘I should discuss promotion with you, General,’ Menin winked.

  ‘Perhaps now is not the time,’ Jericho advised. ‘They won’t stop till they’ve recaptured us.’

  Running feet caught his attention, and he drew his sword once more to face the threat. He relaxed; Aniol and Reena were running to their aid.

  ‘We saw the wall disappear and came running. What happened?’ Aniol asked puzzled. ‘And why are you dressed as a castle guard?’

  ‘No time for questions, Aniol. Please assist Zaruun with the Archmage; she is injured,’ Jericho ordered and hurried over to Hur’al. ‘Do you have any idea how to get out of this city quickly?’

  Hur’al smiled and raised an eyebrow. ‘I know of a place we can hold up. We have to reach the west of the city. Follow me,’ he replied.

  Jericho turned back to the others. ‘Right, we’re following Hur’al. Keep moving and don’t stop,’ he called. He helped Hur’al support Draken, and they hurried away down the main street, pedestrians backing away from them. They had just crossed the stone bridge when they heard yells and taunts behind them.

  The castle guards had retracted the courtyard portcullis and were now exiting the hole in the castle wall. Another minute and they’d be a formidable force to contend with.

  ‘Guard the rear,’ Jericho ordered his men.

  Menin looked left and right for a means of escape. ‘Wait; there’s no need. Move everyone forward,’ she waved, ‘beyond the first set of buildings. Coinin, I need your help.’

  Everyone did as told and backed off, and Coinin joined her to face the oncoming guards. Behind them, the stone bridge and a drop into a deep crevice divided them. Menin grabbed Coinin’s hand and held it tight. ‘Coinin, I am weakened, but I think we can do this together. We are going to destroy the bridge, that should slow them down,’ she advised.

  ‘How?’ Coinin asked.

  ‘As I have taught you, concentrate on the completed task, not the action. I need you to gather the necessary forces from the earth for me, and I will do the rest.’

  Coinin closed his eyes and concentrated on the outcome. He called upon the elementals to provide him with the forces necessary to transfer to Menin. Almost immediately the earth gave freely of its power and he began to soak up its energy as would a sponge. It built to the point that he felt as if he was going to explode.

  ‘Now!’ he heard Menin yell.

  As quick as lightning he expended the energy along his arm and transferred it to Menin. With a cry and a shockwave, she sent the energy racing towards the bridge. A dozen men had already begun to cross when the ball of bright blue light hit, and the bridge cracked and crumbled. Seconds later, it gave way in sizeable chunks and noise. It plummeted into the dark crevice taking the guards with it amid terrified screams.

  Menin sank to her knees exhausted, and Coinin assisted her. Together they slowly made their way through crowds of frightened onlookers. Jericho came running and helped Coinin escort the Archmage to safety.

  ‘I thought you weren’t supposed to involve yourself in conflict,’ Coinin reminded the Archmage.

  ‘I merely channelled your energy,’ Menin expressed unashamedly.

  ‘Speaking of which, I think I used just a little too much force back there in the castle.’

  Menin looked at him with expressive eyes. ‘You know, it doesn’t matter that you nearly demolished the castle entrance, you saved us from certain death, and I for one will be forever grateful. However, we do need to discuss reducing the effectiveness of your spells just a little bit,’ she smiled through her pain.

  At the battered castle entrance, King Hantestum looked on furiously and kicked the dead body of a guard nearby. ‘You’ve not seen the last of me,’ he bellowed.

  Those last words echoed around the vast square, and Coinin had no doubts that what the King had said would prove to be true.

  SEWER RATS

  Like sewer rats, Hur’al led them through damp, dark tunnels under the city that were formerly used as the sewerage system when the city had been built. It had long since fallen into disrepair and was still largely abandoned. King Hantestum had permitted the city to fall into ruin for a decade, and the result was squalor and depravity on a scale never before seen.

  Coinin thought back to how Aniol had described the city as one that was beautiful, and after running
through most of it to save his life, he couldn’t agree with that statement. Hantestum, or Death, had a lot to answer for.

  They had entered the sewers via a small raised grate hidden in a dark alleyway off the main thoroughfare. A ladder led down to a high domed brick tunnel. They had lit several torches and followed this for several hundred metres, avoiding the trickle of dirty water that passed beneath them, and stopped at an intersection. Here six exits waited to be taken, and with no idea which one to take, Coinin worried that they could spend all day walking in circles.

  ‘Now where do we go?’ Draken huffed.

  ‘Patience; there is a key to this,’ said Hur’al. One by one he ran his fingers over the bricks surrounding the exits and nodded approval at the fifth. ‘This way,’ he urged and entered the archway.

  Everyone began to file into the cramped enclosure and ducked their heads as they did so. Coinin stopped momentarily to view the brickwork and spotted a small carving there. He brought his torch to better light the relief and saw the outline of a hand with a key shape raised within the palm.

  Draken, unable to move since Coinin blocked the way, answered the unasked question. ‘It’s the thief’s mark. Hur’al, as a pirate, would know of it. I assume it marks a route to take us to some hideout,’ he informed.

  Hur’al led them like this for many more turns and exits until finally, as weariness set in, they arrived at a large barrel-domed space. The room had been divided into two sections with storage in one area and shoddy beds in another.

  ‘Welcome to my second home,’ said Hur’al.

  Aniol frowned. ‘What is this place?’

  ‘I swear you all to secrecy.’ Hur’al looked at them pointedly. ‘This is where we store our catch of the day.’