‘Why are these people in chains?’ Coinin asked aghast.
‘Several reasons, most likely. They are either prisoners resulting from warfare, captured slaves, or pirates who have wronged the King in some way.’
The idea of slaves was abhorrent to Coinin and Jericho, and each had a similar thought of freeing the damned but rejected the notion almost immediately. The last thing they needed was to bring attention to themselves.
A quick scan of the area showed no visible signs of Marrok, to Coinin’s disappointment. The plan was to hide out of sight and use his gifts to search out his brother with his mind. It was decided ahead of time that they should head to an area of seclusion, and the only location Hur’al said suited was at the far end of the quarry.
Hur’al walked confidently past the guard who looked on uninterested until something caught her eye.
‘Nice boots,’ she called to Jericho.
Jericho shot a worried look at Hur’al who dipped his head almost imperceptibly, effectively giving permission for Jericho to respond.
‘Comfortable too,’ Jericho nodded with his best smile.
‘Bit unusual ain’t they? Look very military-like.’
Jericho felt suddenly uncomfortable; the only item of clothing he had overlooked in his disguise was his footwear. He looked down at the shiny leather with a sense of foreboding. They were too buffed and far too clean for a common pirate.
The woman approached him now; a hand resting on the hilt of her cutlass. She studied him intently. After a moment she poked his chest with her clay pipe. ‘I said—’
‘I know what you said!’ Jericho barked in response. ‘As it happens, I had to kill a General to get these.’
‘Which General did you kill?’ she snorted disbelievingly.
‘One of The Brotherhood’s finest. All who saw it fear my name now.’ Jericho attempted a self-satisfied expression that brimmed with smugness.
Coinin saw that Hur’al looked uneasy, and he too gripped his sword hilt tightly.
The guard stepped right up to Jericho, her face mere inches from his. She studied him for a full minute and then burst out laughing. She slapped her thigh in mirth. ‘That’ll teach the scum not to peddle their beliefs ‘round ‘ere. Well done, matey.’ She clasped Jericho by the hand and pumped in a congratulatory manner.
‘Thanks. We really have to be going now.’
‘Where are you headin’?’
‘The caves,’ replied Hur’al.
‘Perfect. If you see Lorin there, tell ‘im it’s about time he relieved me, or I’ll have ‘is guts for garters.’
Jericho nodded and smirked. ‘Righto, Lorin it is,’ he replied, having no idea who Lorin was, but it was far better to humour the woman. Jericho grabbed Coinin and led him away.
‘Honestly, I thought I was going to have a heart attack there when she approached you,’
‘You and me both.’ Hur’al breathed heavily.
‘Let’s get out of eyesight of the woman, and I’ll do something about these infernal boots.’
The trio raced ahead as quickly as they dared, careful not to trip over sharp rocks and debris that littered the quarry. Once out of sight, Jericho took a handful of sharp sand and scuffed his boots until they were unrecognisable, then built up a layer of grey stone dust with a few well-aimed gobs of spittle. Satisfied, he wiped his hands upon his tunic and nodded that they should proceed.
Hur’al bypassed several large boulders, glistening from the rain of the previous night, and led them to the mouth of a large cave. Stopping and dropping to one knee, he withdrew a knife from his belt and etched an extensive network of tunnels and caves in the dirt. ‘We are here,’ he said, pointing to the opening of the hastily drawn cave system. ‘Further in and to the left is a small cave where Coinin can perform his magic, and if Marrok is inside, we shall be able to locate him and extract him quickly and quietly, out of sight of the main city.’
He rose, secured his knife and walked into the brooding darkness. As he had said, after a minute or two of walking, to the left, a smaller cave opened out. They entered, ducking heads as they went to avoid the low rock ceiling. The cave was thankfully void of life, yet full to the brim with barrels. Sharp stalactites hung viciously from the low ceiling and water dripped into little pools below. The light came from half a dozen oil lamps scattered about the room. A small wooden table that held a candle and parchment, complete with a quill, sat near the entrance, the owner of which was thankfully nowhere to be seen.
‘Do your thing Coinin. Jericho and I will wait by the entrance to ensure we aren’t disturbed. I would recommend staying behind those barrels over there.’ Hur’al pointed to a cluster of them to the right of the cave, behind which Coinin would be effectively hidden. ‘We may receive uninvited visitors at any time.’
Coinin’s guardians sat either side of the cave mouth walls, and Hur’al withdrew a deck of cards from a pouch around his waist. ‘Let me teach you pirate cards,’ he smiled and shuffled the deck expertly.
‘Now is not the time, Hur’al,’ Jericho objected.
‘What do you mean? It’s a perfect time; it’s all part of the disguise.’
Jericho huffed and relented.
Coinin turned away and secreted himself behind the large barrels Hur’al had indicated. A sudden whiff of pitch hit his nose, and he saw that one of the containers had leaked a black puddle of the thick, sticky liquid onto the ground. He stepped over it lithely and sat on the floor, cross-legged and out of sight.
He closed his eyes and breathed in and out deeply at a steady pace, permitting his mind to still alongside his body. A tingling feeling soon slowly made its way along his arms to the ends of his fingers, not uncomfortable like pins and needles. Instead, it was a pleasant, warm feeling. As he sank into a deeper state of relaxation, the tingling subsided to be replaced by an intense sense of well-being accompanied by a blue and red haze. After a moment, the blue haze transformed into a ball of invisible energy and left his body to snake its way from him in search of Marrok. In his mind’s eye, he followed the energy ball. One moment he was in the damp cave in a mined quarry, and the next he was floating above the city of pirates watching the proceedings.
The ball of energy that guided him dived gracefully, invisibly, and headed for the Pirate King’s abode.
He saw a well-dressed pirate strutting like a peacock in the courtyard of the palatial home. The man was of gigantic proportions and surrounded by scantily clad females who tended to his every need. There was a self-important air about him, and several visitors to the compound knelt in reverence as he passed by. Coinin figured that this had to be the King, but where was Marrok?
His magic had not worked the same as before. There was no ribbon-like stream of light leading him directly to him. It was different; it felt like a hunt. Was his brother even here? With what would have been a stomach-churning dive, the ball of light led him through the main doors to the King’s home and along a sweeping corridor, before passing through a solid wooden door at the far end. Down a flight of stone steps the energy raced. At the bottom, the blue haze stopped short and vanished just short of a rock wall. It was then that Coinin was aware of a distant voice calling him. He tried to focus on the voice, and as he did so, he sensed an urgency to the tone.
‘Coinin ... Coinin, we have to go, come on!’ Jericho yelled.
Coinin snapped out of his trance-like state and peered around the barrels that hid him. Several bodies lay motionless at the entrance of the cave and Hur’al, back-to-back with Jericho, was defending a vicious attack from a sword-wielding pirate.
Jericho beckoned to Coinin urgently. ‘Move! We’ve been discovered. We need to get back to the ship.’
‘Marrok is here, I sense it,’ Coinin announced.
‘We’ll never get close to rescuing him now that the pirates know we’re here. We will come back for him, I promise.’
Coinin let out a yell of frustration and stepped over the body of a downed pirate Hur’al had just dis
patched.
The trio ran full tilt back towards the tunnel entrance, half expecting to meet a horde of angry pirates waiting to cut them down. The entry to the tunnel, however, was eerily quiet.
‘I don’t like it, it feels like a trap.’ Hur’al breathed hard as he ran, attempting to clean blood from his face.
‘Regardless, we have no option if we intend to escape,’ Jericho wheezed back.
They raced forward with ever-increasing urgency, knowing their escape route could be cut off at any moment. The rock debris underfoot threatened to twist ankles, and clouds of dust tickled the throat and made it hard to breathe. How far word had spread that there were impostors in the city was anybody’s guess; they just had to make it to the ship and affect a quick departure.
The tunnel, dark and oppressive, seemed to stretch on forever, heightening Coinin’s panic. He had a stitch in his side, and his lungs felt as if they were about to burst. His throat was raw from breathing hard and his calf muscles burnt horribly.
‘Not far now, keep going, we’ve almost made it.’
The tunnel exit neared and with it the hope of escape. Sadly their getaway was immediately thwarted the moment they hit sunlight. A heavy rope net that stank of fish and pitch was dropped onto them from a height. The weight was such that they fell to the floor, unable to escape its grasp. Coinin began to struggle like a frightened animal in the death grip of a hungry predator.
‘Don’t bother Coinin, we are trapped,’ said Jericho sadly.
‘Like rats in a barrel,’ a mighty, yet breathless voice laughed above them.
Coinin craned his head to see who had spoken. There, towering above him, stood the Pirate King, Mathius ‘Thunderfist’ Thuun, dressed in an outlandish purple tunic, seamed with gold thread. He wore a thick golden band around his greying head and his two chins wobbled as he laughed. A gold tooth glittered in the sunlight, and the golden head of a ram sitting solidly atop his cane shook as he pounded it into the ground.
‘Finally, I’ve got me a prize worthy of my games! Hur’al, ‘tis good to see you again.’
Hur’al visibly sagged. Being recognised wasn’t the worst part about being captured, it was the thought of what was to be done with him. Thunderfist had mentioned the games, terrifying feats of daring designed for one thing: to punish and to entertain. He would be subject to ridicule, and the whole pirate city would witness his death at the hands of the King.
‘Lost yer tongue?’ Thunderfist boomed when Hur’al remained quiet. ‘I was hopin’ to save it for me fryin’ pan.’
Thunderfist clicked his chubby fingers and summoned several of his men to his side. ‘Bind and gag ‘em, then take ‘em to the dungeons. We’ll have some fun with ‘em later.’ He curled his finger, pulling a tall, thin man from the crowd. ‘Fetch some men and board that ship,’ he growled, pointing to The Peregrine. ‘I want the lot of ‘em held, ya hear?’
The pirate saluted, turned on his heels and quickly retreated.
Thunderfist bent low to Hur’al and whispered into his ear. ‘You reveal my secrets, and I’ll rip the tongue from yer mouth. Keep it shut, an’ I might just wait till yer dead.’ The King stood and strode away.
Strong hands held the captives tight, while others hauled off the heavy netting surrounding them. With their hands tied roughly behind their backs, sharp cutlasses prodded painfully at their backs, prompting the trio to march forward along the walkway. Passersby stopped to ogle the sight, and Coinin found he needed to bow his head as a jeering crowd hurled vegetables and rotten fruit.
‘What did he say to you?’ Jericho asked Hur’al.
‘That I’m a dead man.’
‘You took a great risk coming back here.’
‘Anything for my sister.’
‘Coinin here knows all about that. Sadly, I don’t think we’ll get out of this unscathed.’
Coinin looked ashen. He had escaped death on numerous occasions of late, though only now did reality hit home that he may not survive to be reunited with his brother once more. He did not particularly fear death; just regret that he had led his friends to their doom.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.
‘What was that?’
‘I’m sorry I brought you into this. Because of me—’
‘Because of you, I would not have had a great adventure doing what I love most,’ Jericho interrupted. ‘You did not drag anyone into this; I volunteered. I could have refused back at my cabin.’
‘It’s a pirate’s life; risk and uncertainty that you’ll live out the day is all part of the game,’ Hur’al shrugged as best he could.
Coinin knew they were only trying to make him feel better and silently thanked them for it. He did secretly wish that it was all a game, though he knew better; it was a childish dream. He had never been in more danger than he was in right now.
‘Shut it and get movin’.’ A burly pirate prodded each with the sharp tip of his cutlass. He wore thick fur and a leather cap with flaps that hung over his ears. His moustache drooped as far as his chest and intermittently blew about his face in the wind.
The men did as instructed and eventually arrived at a long rope bridge that spanned the gulf between the pirate city and the island that held the King’s citadel. Forced forward, they walked, feeling the bridge sway and flex as they did so. It was hard to balance with hands behind their backs and more than once Coinin fell to his knees, only to receive a clip around the head before being roughly dragged to his feet. After a minute or so, they arrived on the far side of the bridge and stopped short of a thick wooden door that led to a courtyard beyond. Several pirates guarded the entrance and laughed heartily at Hur’al as he passed. One short, plump woman kicked him viciously and spat at him. ‘Traitor,’ she cursed.
Hur’al silently took a severe beating from all those around him, until finally they grew bored and dragged him through the now open doorway of the compound. Inside, three stakes six feet in height had been driven into the ground, and to these, the trio was bound and gagged.
❖
On board The Falcon, Lacretia and the rest of the crew found themselves surrounded by an angry mob, eager for blood. The crew had initially offered resistance but were soon overwhelmed, and they realised it was futile to resist any further and to suffer more casualties.
Below decks, Aniol and Axl were hiding in two empty barrels at the rear of the main hold, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Fortunately, the pirates had passed by the barrels without checking, except now Aniol feared her heart would give her away as it was beating so loudly in her ears. She normally wouldn’t have hidden, preferring to be at the front of the battle line, however, this time she had been ordered by Quindil to take cover. Being small enough to squeeze inside, both she and Axl had a small hope of going unnoticed and might possibly escape bringing reinforcements in the form of a rescue party.
On deck, each member of the crew was bound and ordered to sit quietly while they awaited the verdict as to what was to be done with them. Lacretia was the only captive unbound who lay bleeding heavily from a cutlass wound. Her abdomen held a deep gash.
‘Please, she is going to die without treatment,’ Quindil begged a surly pirate standing before him. He had been tied to a mast with a stout rope and was unable to assist.
‘You’s all goin’ to die, no matter,’ the pirate growled in a heavily accented tone.
‘Your King will not be happy if you let one of his prisoners die.’
The pirate screwed up his face at this thought. A moment later, it appeared to Quindil that something clicked in his brain, and he looked suddenly concerned.
‘You’s right. Fix it.’
‘I’m not a healer,’ Quindil protested. ‘I only have one arm.’
‘Fix it!’ the pirate insisted forcefully. He heaved Quindil to his feet, unbound his arm from the mast and pushed him towards Lacretia.
Quindil stumbled, barely able to save himself from striking his head on a crate tethered to the deck. He leant over the pale
, bleeding woman and searched for a pulse about her neck. It was thready and faint. Turning away from her unfocused eyes, he looked up and pleaded to his captor. ‘I cannot do this alone; I need a cloth to bind the wound or she will die.’
The pirate sighed heavily and stormed over to Quindil. ‘You ain’t no bleedin’ good; I’ll fix it.’ The pirate once more tied Quindil’s wrist to the mast and returned to see to Lacretia.
❖
King Thuun gloated at the capture of Hur’al. He paraded the compound, munching on a hunk of meat, all the while taunting the helpless former pirate.
‘So, ya thought ya could sneak in ‘ere and go unnoticed? To do what? Tell me why you’d put yer life at risk and come back ‘ere?’ His breath fogged about him.
Hur’al looked at the King defiantly and remained silent.
‘Ne’er mind,’ he chuckled, ‘the boy’ll spill his guts soon enough.’
Jericho’s anger rose, and he tried to loosen his bonds, though all that prompted was a round of laughter from the onlookers. ‘Harm a hair on the Curator’s head, and you’ll have the might of The Brotherhood of The Wulf on your back!’
The King laughed loudly at Jericho’s threat, marched over to Coinin and grabbed a handful of his hair. Quickly whipping it away along with a fistful of strands, he thrust it into Jericho’s face. Those around him also joined in the King’s mirth.
‘The Brotherhood is nothin’; and no match for us. Let ‘em come, and I’ll send ‘em home with a tail ‘tween their stinkin’ legs.’
‘Then let me go, and I shall return with The Brotherhood and put your claims to the test.’
‘Yer, a funny man. Perhaps I won’t kill ya just yet.’
‘You think I fear death? It would bring relief to my mourning. The heavens await me, and I would once again be able to hold to my bosom my beloved wife, Eraywen.’
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 60