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

by Harrison Davies

  ‘Hey, what’s going on? That’s not my ship,’ Hur’al demanded loudly.

  Coinin and the others shook their heads in confusion.

  Quindil’s head reappeared over the side. ‘You lot ready?’

  ‘What have you done with my ship, Quindil?’ Hur’al asked furiously.

  ‘Sorry about this Hur’al, but we had to leave her behind. I felt that this ship, being fully stocked and armed to the teeth, would be far more valuable for our rescue bid,’ Quindil replied. ‘Listen, can we discuss this when you are all safely on board?’

  The cannons boomed again, and the ship swayed. Seconds later, the cage began to make its way down to greet the captives.

  ‘Right you lot,’ Jericho addressed the gathered, ‘those who want to get out of here, form a line behind me.’

  No one needed to tell the prisoners twice, and as one, they quickly and quietly did as he instructed, eager to get as far away from their own personal nightmares as soon as possible.

  The cage, large enough to accommodate several men, landed with a bump and without wasting any time Jericho opened the door. ‘Inside, quickly now,’ he waved.

  A second cage had been lowered to the ground on the starboard side of the ship and waited to be filled.

  ‘Curator? If you will follow me please,’ his temporary personal guard motioned.

  Coinin did as asked and stepped inside the large cage alongside a host of other hot and sweaty bodies. Once filled, the door was bolted, and the ropes holding the pens were pulled taut, as the winch gear strained to lift such a heavy mass.

  I hope this thing holds, Coinin thought, and then realised for the first time that he was missing someone important. He turned to his guard. ‘Where’s Aniol?’

  His guard looked puzzled for a second. ‘She’s taking care of Captain Hur’al’s first mate.’

  ‘Lacretia?’

  ‘Yes, that’s her.’

  ‘Why would Aniol need to take care of her?’

  ‘She was injured when—’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll have time later to discuss this. Right now, we are still very much in danger,’ Len’i interrupted.

  ‘Yes, you are correct,’ Coinin agreed.

  The cage came to a stop at the same level as the poop deck and swung slightly. A muscular shipmate wielded a hooked pole and deftly snatched the cage rope nearest him. The winch operator loosened off and the cage was hauled aboard. On the opposite side of the poop, the same was happening to the other cage. A deckhand unfastened the bolt and swung open the door.

  The cages emptied and the former prisoners were escorted below decks to be cared for.

  Coinin watched as Marrok and Len’i disappeared below and regretted not being able to speak with his brother. Other pressing matters needed attending to first. The sound of Hur’al swearing interrupted his thoughts. He turned around to see what all the fuss was about. Hur’al was nose to nose with Quindil on the quarterdeck. He ventured that way to hear better.

  ‘What have you done with my bloody ship?’ Hur’al bellowed.

  Quindil rose to his full height to show that the burly man opposite him did not dominate him. ‘She’s right where you left her, safe and sound.’

  ‘Small mercies for that, and for you. You do know we have to go back for her?’

  ‘Impossible! We’re pushing our luck as it is. If those pirates find a way to their ships, we’ll be done for.’

  Hur’al went into a rage, cursing and flinging his arms in the air and pacing back and forth.

  ‘Captain,’ said a quiet voice that was lost in the humdrum.

  ‘Hur’al Philemon Menin!’ Lacretia yelled over the noise.

  Captain Menin stood stock still, his face turning white at the sight of Lacretia. She was grey-faced, pale and sweaty. She clutched at her side, nursing an injury, having exerted herself when she had heard Hur’al shouting. She was supposed to be resting and the pain from the wound she had received buckled her knees, and she sank to the deck, supported by the door frame of the Captain’s cabin.

  Hur’al forgot his argument and rushed to her aid, just as Aniol appeared behind her. Coinin walked down the steps from the poop deck and spotted Aniol. His heart fluttered, and he was bolstered to see her safe and sound.

  Hur’al knelt beside Lacretia and took her hand. ‘Lacretia, what happened?’

  ‘Never mind me; the healer has done what he can. We have to get out of here, and you’re stomping around like a child, worrying about The Peregrine.’

  Hur’al was affronted. ‘Not The Peregrine; you know why she’s important.’

  ‘I do.’ Lacretia lowered her voice to prevent being overheard. ‘It is safe.’

  Aniol, who was close enough to hear, found herself immediately interested in the secret exchange and feigned disinterest to listen further.

  Hur’al looked at her, assessing whether or not she had heard his exchange with Lacretia, and since she gave no sign of having done so, he felt satisfied and returned his attention back to his first mate. ‘You, get back in there and rest,’ he ordered.

  He and Aniol assisted Lacretia to her feet, and he left the two women to disappear back inside the cabin. Satisfied, he turned to the remainder of the crew on deck who were gawking at him and placed his hands on his hips. ‘What’re you lot standing around for? Let’s get this bucket of tar up in the air.’

  Hur’al sniffed, his previous outburst seemingly forgotten, although Coinin thought he spotted an air of embarrassment about the man.

  Coinin left the crew to it and headed to the Captain’s cabin to speak with Aniol. He needed her reassuring calmness since his nerves had been stretched thin and he would feel safe around her, despite being surrounded by other soldiers of The Order.

  He ducked into the cabin and closed the door behind him. It was dimmer in this room compared to the same place aboard The Peregrine, which was quite luxurious and a world of difference away from the rough and ready surroundings of the commandeered ship.

  Aniol had her back to him, and he patiently waited while she assisted Lacretia into the Captain’s bunk. It was functional and only marginally more comfortable than the bunks in other areas of the ship. Lacretia did not mind of course; the pain from her wound blocked out any other thoughts of bodily discomfort.

  Once she had tucked Lacretia in, she turned and beamed at Coinin. All protocol was thrown to the four winds, and she rushed into his arms, and they hugged like very old friends who had not seen each other in many years.

  Coinin was elated, and his heart leapt, a warm glow easing his stress. For a long time, they said nothing until Aniol pulled away and looked him up and down disapprovingly.

  She pursed her lips. ‘You, look a mess.’

  ‘That’s the first thing you say to me?’

  ‘Have you seen yourself?’

  Coinin shook his head and looked down at his body. He noted how dirty and dishevelled he appeared. His clothing was nothing more than rags, his knees protruding from ragged holes, and his cuffs no better than bare threads.

  Aniol retrieved a square of polished tin from an alcove built into the wall to her left and thrust it into Coinin’s hand.

  ‘Here, take a look.’

  Coinin held the tin mirror before him and peered at his reflection. In the dim light, he received a shock. His hair was matted and stood up in all directions. His face, aside from being covered in dirt, bore a dark blue and purple bruise to the temple and eye socket. Blood had encrusted around the wound, and the same dark liquid had at some point leaked from his nose. It had formed a burgundy moustache that clung to growing whiskers, far removed from the fine wisps of fluff masquerading as hair he once possessed.

  He lowered the mirror and smiled at Aniol, who looked on expectantly.

  ‘I think I should go and clean up.’

  ‘Your things are waiting for you below decks.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Find Axl; he’ll guide you.’ Aniol turned back to Lacretia who had moaned deeply.

>   Coinin shivered and hastened to find warmer clothing.

  ❖

  With the anchor raised and the boiler stoked, the stolen ship began to move. Jericho and Marrok stood at the prow ruminating at the missed opportunity to finish Lordich once and for all.

  ‘What troubles you my friends?’ said Quindil quietly joining them.

  ‘I missed my opportunity to end this. Lordich escaped,’ Jericho complained.

  ‘That may be, but I’ve a feeling we’ll have another shot at him.’

  ‘Why so confident?’ Marrok asked.

  ‘Because I happened to see the direction of his travel.’

  Jericho brightened and dared hope.

  ‘Really?’ Marrok asked.

  ‘Yes. It’s quite a sight to see a handful of dragons with a rider heading North. That’s one vision you’re unlikely to forget quickly.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news,’ Jericho laughed and embraced Quindil tightly. ‘Where’s Hur’al? We must instruct him to set a new course.’

  ❖

  ‘Nephew! I’m so glad that you are safe and sound. I was so worried,’ Draken drawled, his tone insincere.

  ‘Uncle,’ said Coinin, and breezed past the old man without so much as a glance.

  Draken frowned and stalked away to sulk. Coinin had never dismissed him in that manner before, and that worried him. Had he lost the boy’s respect?

  The truth, of course, was that Coinin was simply tired, exhausted by the events of the past few days, and too weary to deal with his uncle’s neediness.

  He scoured the bowels of the ship looking for Axl and eventually found him lugging a cannonball from one side of the fore gun-deck to the other. He was stooped low as there was barely room for a cabin boy to stand up in the chamber. Oddly shaped fat-bottomed barrels of powder, bales of cloth and cannon shot sat in neat piles at the door end of the deck, as far away from the cannons as was possible, to minimise the chances of an explosion. This meant a lot of humping of heavy shot from one side to the other to make smaller more manageable piles. Four cannons, two on each side of the deck, faced outwards and forwards through ports cut into the sides of the ship. The cannons had been wheeled backwards and secured with stout ropes and chocks, and the portholes too had been secured.

  Axl was covered head to foot in soot and powder. The air choked with it, so he and the others had fashioned strips of dampened cloth to tie across their noses and mouths, yet the acrid emissions still stung their eyes. Axl’s looked a sorry sight, bulging, red and tear stained.

  ‘Curator, is that you?’ Axl blinked away tears to see better and dropped the cannonball.

  ‘Yes, Axl. You look as bad as I feel.’

  ‘Have you seen yourself?’ Axl chuckled.

  ‘I have, and it’s not pretty,’ Coinin nodded. ‘Who took down that ogre with the masterful cannonball shot?’

  Axl thought for a moment, reliving the rescue in his head. ‘I believe that was Private Melor. Yes, most definitely, Melor.’

  ‘Will you thank her for me? She saved me from being an ogre’s breakfast.’

  ‘I will do that, Sir. Oh, and for the record, welcome back.’

  ‘It’s good to be back, Axl.’ Coinin sighed.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. I’m tired, hungry and in need of clothes. Aniol said you would know where there are some.’

  ‘Indeed I do. If you go down one more deck and head along the corridor to the far end, there is a storage room. It’s the last door on the left and will hold all you need.’

  ‘Thank you, Axl.’

  He need not have thanked him; the young man was already focused on his next task.

  With a cough to rid his lungs of powder, Coinin headed out of the chamber and soon found a new set of steps that led to another deck below.

  FAREWELL & REVELATIONS

  The pirate ship made good time with a strong wind urging them ever onward. The constant whirr of the propeller blades and the gentle sway of the hull cradled Coinin into a sound sleep the moment his head hit the makeshift pillow he had fashioned from his newly acquired cloak. After collecting his clothing, he retired immediately to bed, too tired to speak to anyone.

  Marrok had joined him a few hours later and also slept deeply and peacefully in the bunk opposite.

  In the darkness of the deepest recesses of the ship, a lone figure talked quietly to a softly glowing globe.

  ‘They’re coming for you, Lordich. They’ve given up searching for the swords; their focus is on you,’ Draken hissed.

  ‘They will never find me. Why do you bother me with this?’ the voice of Lordich spat from the globe.

  ‘Because of the prophecy. Without the Swords of Cerathil, this planet will be destroyed.’

  ‘Nonsense. How many times must I tell you that this is an old wives tale?’

  ‘You once believed in such things.’

  ‘And then my eyes were opened.’

  ‘Closed to reality, more like,’ Draken muttered.

  ‘Watch your tone Draken.’

  Draken ignored the man. ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘I am gathering an army to meet The Brotherhood head on. Your role will be to keep me updated on their movements. Stick to those boys like your life depended on it.’

  Draken suddenly felt a shiver that ran down his spine. He had no doubt that his life would depend on compliance.

  The globe gave off a slight hum, and the blue glow faded, leaving Draken in total darkness.

  ‘Damn,’ he cursed.

  ❖

  The room smelled faintly of hot bodies and morning breath as a shaft of daylight cast a beam across Coinin’s face. He stirred and stretched his back. Still semi-asleep, he turned and faced the wall only to strike it with his head. He woke fully then and rubbed at the soreness. Finally, he sat up and yawned loudly.

  ‘Shut up, Coinin, I’m trying to sleep,’ Marrok muttered.

  It was just like old times back in Draken’s home, where they would all share a single space to sleep.

  Coinin burst into laughter, and yet couldn’t ignore the mix of tears. It had not been a dream; they had indeed found his brother. He jumped from the bunk ignoring his stiffness and jumped on top of Marrok to pummel him playfully.

  ‘Don’t you ever run off like that again. I was worried sick.’

  ‘Get off,’ Marrok complained, ‘I’m trying to sleep.’

  ‘Yes, you said that already. Get up.’

  Marrok pushed Coinin from his bunk and propped himself up on his elbows.

  ‘You are annoying sometimes, little brother. Why I rescued you I don’t know,’ he said with the smallest of smirks.

  ‘It’s ironic that I came save you, and that’s what brothers are for.’ Coinin paused and looked at his feet.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Marrok asked.

  Coinin continued to stare. ‘I thought I’d lost you. I was sure you’d been killed.’

  Marrok hopped from his bed and wrapped strong, comforting arms around his younger sibling.

  ‘I’m fine, and I’m safe. You may be the Grand Protector of the temple of Rindor or whatever fancy title it is, but you’re still my baby brother. Chin up.’

  ‘Perhaps they chose the wrong person to perform these duties.’

  Marrok released Coinin from his grasp and attempted to look him in the eyes.

  ‘You got this far didn’t you? You and no one else did this. If Archmage Menin believes in you, then so do I.’

  Coinin raised his head to face Marrok and saw he bore a solemn expression. He offered a weak smile to his elder.

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘There’s no suppose about it. You’ve worked wonders. You’re the youngest Curator ever and look how far you’ve come.’

  Coinin glanced around at the barren cabin and bit his tongue, holding back his usual sarcastic tone, an unusual thing for him to do in the presence of his brother. Inside, though, he was screaming that they were surely living in the lap of luxury aboard a m
ost fragrant and luxurious ship fit for a King.

  Coinin faked a smile and nodded.

  ‘Well, then, stop worrying. I’ve told you before it’s my job to worry.’

  A rap at the door signalled the end to that particular moment of Coinin’s despair.

  ‘Come,’ said Marrok.

  The wooden door to the cabin creaked, and Aniol poked her head through the opening.

  ‘Curator, General, I have news.’

  Coinin saw that her eyes were red and that she appeared to have been crying.

  ‘What is it Aniol?’

  ‘The Captain wishes everyone on deck.’

  Coinin and Marrok looked at one another. It must be serious, they each thought.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s Lacretia; she has succumbed to her wounds. Hur’al wants everyone on deck immediately.’

  ‘Wait, Lacretia is dead?’

  Aniol looked as if she was about to cry once again. Coinin walked over to the young woman and wrapped an arm around her, much the same way that Marrok had to he mere moments ago. He bent his head to hers. ‘It’s not your fault. Whoever did this has her blood on his hands. You did your very best for her, I’m sure.’

  ‘I feel so useless. I could ... should have done more.’

  ‘Was there a healer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then it was the healer’s duty, not yours. What more could you have done?’

  Aniol shook her head. ‘I don’t know … something.’

  Marrok squeezed by them and mouthed that he would leave Coinin to it. Aniol barely noticed as the door closed quietly behind her.

  An awkward silence followed and engulfed the pair. Coinin released Aniol, and she looked at him tearfully. He carefully used his thumbs to wipe away her tears.

  ‘This isn’t you. You’re supposed to be my rough, tough personal guard.’

  Aniol was not listening; she had a faraway look in her eyes as she stared unblinkingly into his. Without another word, he leant in close and kissed her tenderly on the lips.