For the briefest of moments, Aniol froze and then her lips slowly parted, and she returned his kiss.
Coinin’s heart sang as Aniol’s soft, wet lips met his in a passionate embrace. It was as if a release of pent up frustration fuelled the fire. All worries and troubles left his mind in that moment of forbidden passion; only the beauty of it lingered in the air.
His eyes closed and a warm feeling of joy, happiness and peace engulfed him, and he trembled slightly. After what seemed like a lifetime, a nagging voice called out to him. Seconds later, he realised that it was his conscience warning him that he was in great danger of putting the future of the couple in jeopardy.
His eyes opened, and he gently pushed Aniol away from him, ashamed of his conduct. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly, and then made to leave.
Aniol gripped his hand. ‘It’s fine.’
With a heavy heart, the total opposite of that he felt a minute ago, he shook his head. ‘I have shamed myself, betrayed Axl, The Order, and you.’
He yanked his hand free and flung open the cabin door and disappeared into the gloom without looking back.
Aniol was left bewildered, shocked and flattered. Coinin had never shown her the least bit of interest in a physical sense, and she was puzzled as to why he had chosen this moment to show it. All she knew was that she needed to reassure him that although she had reciprocated, and that was her own doing, no real harm had been done. Or had it? The sudden realisation that her actions could be construed as unfaithfulness to Axl hit her. She had been caught up in the moment, though now guilt crept into her mind and nestled there, growing stronger with each passing second. She sat on Marrok’s bunk as tears welled in her eyes.
A burning question nagged at her. Should she tell her intended what had transpired or remain quiet in order to preserve peace and harmony? She needed time to think, but a horn sounded, muted by the decking above. It signalled that a mourning party had gathered to honour Lacretia.
❖
Almost everyone had gathered on deck including Captain Dalia and her guards, although Coinin was nowhere to be seen.
Hur’al paced back and forth in front of the prone form of Lacretia laid out on a hessian sheet in the middle of the deck. The crew had formed a large circle and many held in their hand a cap or a hat in reverence.
Marrok noticed how peaceful Lacretia looked, almost as if she were sleeping, though sadly this was far from the truth.
‘As is usually the custom, our departed are buried at sea. However, considering this ship cannot float, we will land and ... and bury our beloved Lacretia in the ground.’ Hur’al looked haggard and drawn. His normally sparkling eye looked dull and lifeless. He had spent most of the night mourning his first mate and saying farewell to his lover. He nodded to a piper holding a lambskin bladder with an array of pipes protruding from it. Next to him stood another crewman who held a wooden instrument in the shape of an oversized spoon. Strings of differing thicknesses ran from one end to the other and were plucked to produce sound.
An eerie tune began to play, and each of the ship’s crew familiar with the song began to sing in honour of their fallen first mate.
♫
Once cast away by those on land,
Found by brothers on shores of sand,
Fierce and strong and feared on seas,
We’re quick and swift upon the breeze.
Honoured by her brotherly fold,
Ever young and never old,
Now buried with her precious gold,
We lay to rest our sister bold.
We lay to rest our sister bold.
♫
A minute of silence followed the song after which two crewmen carefully wrapped the body ready for burial.
With one last bow of his head to Lacretia in honour, Hur’al addressed the crew. ‘Thank you, my friends. When this is over, we will give Lacretia a grand send off. For now, we must land. Go now and prepare this bucket for a landing.’
Marrok stepped forward to object. ‘Hur’al, I—’
Jericho grabbed his wrist and shook his head at the young man. ‘Not now,’ he hissed.
Marrok scowled; any delay meant Lordich was slipping further and further away from his grasp.
‘Yes?’ said Hur’al.
Jericho squeezed Marrok’s wrist.
‘Nothing, I ... I just wanted to say that I am sorry for your loss,’ Marrok replied.
Hur’al nodded. ‘Thank you Marrok,’ he said and walked away.
Once Hur’al was out of earshot, Marrok rounded on Jericho. ‘You do realise that Lordich is escaping?’ he snapped.
‘I, more than most, have a reason to chase that dog and put him down once and for all. Though right now we need to be mindful of this crew’s customs,’ Jericho reminded.
Marrok grew angrier, his face turning red. ‘I outrank you!’ he yelled, and then wished he had not. He had come across as a querulous child, and he knew it.
Jericho bore down on him. ‘You are in training, and until you have proven your worth, your rank of Knight General holds no more sway than the lowliest private.’ With each word, Jericho grew more annoyed, and spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke. ‘Until the Curator has signed you fit and capable of holding the rank and taking on the responsibilities attributed to a General, you will follow my orders. Is that understood?’
Despite the urge to strike Jericho, Marrok stood his ground and took the dressing down.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Good, and just so this is clear, this decision was taken after you were captured.’ Jericho left quickly, angry with the boy and himself for unleashing his temper in public.
Marrok caught sight of a crewman staring at him. ‘What’re you looking at?’ he spat.
The crewman averted his eyes and quickly walked away.
Marrok wrung his hands. He needed to find Coinin. For once he needed to talk to someone.
❖
Coinin had secreted himself behind a couple of barrels on deck at the prow of the ship, and away from prying eyes. He stared through a gap in the bulwark and watched the desert pass by far below like a waterless sea.
He had sought solitude to get away from his thoughts and other people. Instead, all that occupied his mind was the death of Reena. He missed her smile and the way she would scowl at him if she caught him looking at her.
He knew his affection for her was one-sided, yet that had not stopped him imagining his life with her on a farm somewhere with several children or grandchildren. Now, he had done the unthinkable and potentially ruined his relationship with Aniol. Why had he kissed her? Was it grief or lust? All he knew was that of late she brightened his day whenever he saw her.
Hot air escaping from the giant bladder above disturbed his thoughts. The ship had begun to descend to the featureless desert below.
❖
Marrok had almost given up searching for Coinin and ventured into his cabin to find Aniol sitting aboard his bunk cradling her legs.
‘Hello, Aniol? Why are you crying?’
She looked at him, and a fresh tear rolled down her cheek.
‘I’ve done something, no, Coinin and I have done something foolish.’
Marrok listened and waited; she would tell him without a need to prompt her.
‘He kissed me, and I let him.’
Marrok held off from saying, Is that all? Instead, he pursed his lips and frowned. ‘I thought he had his eyes set on that girl, Reena?’
Aniol looked sad again. ‘Reena is dead.’
‘Reena, dead? But then why—?’ Marrok trailed off.
‘I think he’s looking for comfort—I should never have allowed myself to be placed in that situation in the first instance.’
‘Why not? He’s a boy, and you’re a girl.’
‘Well, there’s two reasons. One, he made an oath to The Order to be chaste and free from the bonds of marriage, and two, worst of all, I am betrothed to Axl.’
‘Who’s Axl?’
‘Oh,
you haven’t met him, have you?’
Marrok shrugged and looked vacant.
‘He’s the one I intend to marry when all this is over.’
‘Oh, I see. You’re feeling guilty because you kissed Coinin.’ Marrok sat down on the bunk opposite and clasped his hands while resting his forearms on his knees. ‘I wouldn’t allow yourself to feel guilty. By your tears, it’s obvious to me that you regret your actions. Everyone is stressed, and emotions are running high. If anyone’s likely to crack under pressure, it’ll be me. I’m supposed to be the headstrong one.’ He smiled warmly. ‘As it is, I’ll speak to Coinin when I find him. You shouldn’t worry. You were caught up in the moment, and I’m sure you won’t let it happen again.’
‘Most definitely not,’ replied Aniol defensively.
‘Then that’s settled. If you’ll excuse me, I need to find my brother.’
Aniol watched Marrok prepare to leave, perplexed at his help. She assumed, wrongly, that counselling others would be beyond him; that he would have no interest in such things because his interests lay in swords and battles. How wrong she had been. There was obviously a deeper side to Marrok than first appeared.
‘Thank you Marrok.’
‘Anytime,’ he smiled, and left the room.
❖
The great airship descended as gracefully as a giant swan and landed with the merest of bumps, such was the skill of the pilot. Stabilising struts that were winched open dug into the soft sand of a natural valley created by a series of dunes.
Under a cloudless blue sky, the heat of the desert shimmered across the undulating sand banks, and the scorching sun baked all in its path. The only sign of life here was the pattern in the sand left by a passing snake.
The outboard sails of the ship fluttered in a breeze that stubbornly refused to cool the shipmates, several of whom stood fanning their faces with whatever they had to hand.
Jericho trotted up the steps from below decks, followed closely by Captain Dalia. ‘While we are here,’ he said to the woman, ‘I want you to set up a perimeter defence for the duration of our stay. We cannot afford anyone to breach our camp.’
‘I will need to use all of the troops we have to provide an effective guard,’ Dalia pointed out.
‘Take what you need, Captain. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.’
‘Sir.’ Dalia nodded and jogged away, calling soldiers to her as she went.
❖
Marrok looked lost as he stared out at the endless desert from the poop deck. This visage was far removed from that of his beloved Arromithia, and he was feeling homesick.
Footsteps clattered up the steps behind him and then clomped towards him. He inclined his head expectantly. ‘Yes?’
‘Brother, I owe you an apology.’
Marrok had not expected that and turned to look Jericho squarely in the eyes, his anger at the man reignited.
‘I spoke out of turn, and I am sorry,’ said Jericho humbly.
‘Is it true?’ Marrok replied quietly.
‘Is what true?’
‘That I am not a General.’
Jericho sighed and mopped his brow with his hand. He took a moment to remove his over tunic and folded it over the railing that surrounded the poop. The heat was getting to him. Not so long ago it was mid-winter in Rosthagaar, yet here it was the height of summer. He placed his hand on the rail and looked sideways at Marrok.
‘You do realise that you are the youngest General ever?’
‘But you said—’
‘I know what I said.’
‘So, I am a General?’
‘Yes, Marrok, in name. However, as I stated, you are still in training and therefore subject to my authority.’
‘Is this because I was captured?’
‘Partly. The Archmage felt she had put you in great danger without any real training. She relied too much on the prophecy surrounding you and so the decision was made to prepare you for the role ahead. You are still very young, and there is so much yet to learn. Don’t be so eager to run before you can walk.’
‘I understand.’
‘I want you to know that as far as the troops are concerned you are their superior. Until your training is complete and the ceremony to swear you in is performed, you remain without real decision-making authority.’
Marrok looked disappointed.
‘Don’t fret so, Marrok. You have the respect of the men and your peers with a chance of becoming a great leader. My own time is quickly running out. I can’t do this forever, and between you and me, I’m tired of all this running around.’
‘Speaking of which, why does the Archmage permit Generals to fight on the front line?’
Jericho guffawed loudly. ‘You couldn’t drag me away. Would you stop if asked?’
Marrok considered his response. ‘No.’
‘I’ve had blazing rows with the then Curator Menin over that very subject. The way I see it is that I cannot inspire or lead the troops hidden away from the battle. Our tacticians do the real work. We, as soldiers of God, just implement their tactics.’
‘But I was entrusted to find the swords.’
‘We needed to test your mettle. Why do you think we sent two other Generals with you?’
‘Now it makes sense. Is Coinin also in training?’ Marrok asked.
‘No, Coinin, during his initiation ceremony, acquired the collective wisdom of former Curators. He has the knowledge and skills learned over millennia embedded in his mind. Therefore, no training is required.’
‘It all makes sense now, though it is a shame I couldn’t undergo the same ceremony.’
‘So you see, so much yet to learn. Am I forgiven?’
Marrok held out a hand in friendship. ‘As long as my outburst is forgotten.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ Jericho said jokingly, a cheeky smile spreading across his face.
Both he and Marrok laughed loudly and then looked sheepishly at one another upon the realisation that a very solemn ceremony was about to take place. They refrained from looking around lest some crewman gave them an angry look.
They embraced each other like old friends and left the forecastle.
❖
Coinin caught up in his sulk, watched as Captain Dalia’s men surrounded the ship upon the high sides of the dunes and dug in. From his vantage point, his eyes followed a slow moving funeral procession with the body of Lacretia at its head held aloft by four strong crewmen.
His fingernails flicked at a stubborn section of pitch caught between the deck planks, and he felt sorrow for the crew who had lost a valued leader and friend.
He, of course, blamed himself for her death; so much loss had occurred recently that each death wounded him deeply. It felt as if a little piece of his soul detached with each one and he was concerned that at some point he would become immune to the senseless loss of life and that somehow, because of that, he would lose his humanity.
A horn blown by an attendee at Lacretia’s funeral roused him from a daydream he had slipped into. The first thing he noticed was a dark shadow blocking the sun and affording him shade. He looked up at the enormous mass of Len’i staring down at him.
‘Hail,’ Len’i greeted.
‘Hail.’
‘Why do you not attend the funeral? She is your shipmate is she not?’
‘I am confident I will be blamed for her death, so I stay away.’
‘Why would this be? You did not kill her; I am certain of that.’ Len’i’s deeply accented voice growled.
Coinin stood, stretched and sat on a barrel, feeling it wobble slightly as he did so. He steadied himself and looked into the eyes of the disfigured Orc and tried hard not to stare at the gaping hole where a section of his lips should have been.
‘If it were not for my quest to find Marrok, that woman would not have died.’
‘She could just as easily have fallen from her bunk in the middle of the night and snapped her neck,’ Len’i reasoned.
> ‘That’s not the same, and you know it.’
‘Maybe not, but no Orc or man controls his fate. If it is your time to go, it is your time to go. Nothing you can do will prevent that.’
Coinin’s posture and pursed lips told Len’i that he remained unconvinced. ‘You lead these people, yes?’
‘I suppose I do,’ he replied in the realisation that he was indeed a leader. The thought had struck him at that moment for the first time. He had assumed that he was along for the ride with Jericho leading the way. It may have started that way to some extent, yet had not his instructions and orders been those they followed since arriving in the City of Rostha? The reality was that it was his quest and drive that was giving their travels momentum. Without him, they would not even be here, and that was when guilt bit at him again. ‘So it is my fault. If I hadn’t led them, she would still be alive.’
Len’i rolled his eyes and sat next to Coinin. The barrel proved an uncomfortable choice for him, however.
‘A wise man once said: “Power thrust upon a weak man will either make him stronger or crush his spirit.”.’
‘Who said that?’
Len’i leant in closer and almost whispered his reply. ‘Your father.’
Coinin started. ‘You knew my father?’
‘Everyone knew your father. He gave the pirates quite a hard time in his youth. Though I only knew him very briefly.’
‘Tell me more, please.’
Len’i sensed the opportunity to tell the boy a few truths. Some he would not like—that could not be helped.
‘Firstly, let me just say that I respected your father. I met him at a troubled time, and we were on opposites sides, but that does not mean that I did not respect him or that he was unworthy of honour.’
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 68