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

by Harrison Davies

  He stood and kicked the body of Meroth viciously and crossed to an oak table situated in the centre of the room. There he found a pile of rough sacking that would serve him well.

  He headed back outside avoiding the body of another Orc. He marvelled at this family’s tenacity and ability to kill a small group of experienced hunter Orcs.

  The human still clutched at his side when Len’i leant beside him. The man, although weakened by the loss of blood, tried to throw a punch. He failed to connect, and Len’i caught the offending hand in mid-air.

  ‘I am not here to hurt you. I only wish to help,’ Len’i attempted to reassure.

  ‘Like you helped my wife?’ spat the human.

  Len’i wiped away the spittle and soaked a piece of sacking in the bucket of water.

  ‘Don’t move; you’ll make it worse.’

  The human stopped fighting and permitted the Orc to check his wound.

  ‘I am Len’i of Clan Logii. I did not do this, nor did I order the murder of innocents.’

  Len’i wiped the sacking across the human’s wound and pitied him, as the pain was evident.

  ‘You ordered this attack on our village?’

  ‘I did not order it as I said; I was merely following orders.’

  ‘What were those orders?’

  ‘Locate and abduct your elders, or kill them, whichever came first.’

  ‘Why would you do this?’

  ‘They failed to repay a large debt owed to my people.’

  ‘You did this for money? Then why all this death if you only wanted our elders?’ the human cried out in pain.

  ‘My leadership was challenged by my Second who lies dead inside the farmhouse behind you.’ Len’i jerked his thumb. ‘He ordered my ... his men to kill me, though not before defying the direct orders of our commander and ransacking the village. I was guarding the perimeter, and by the time I knew what was happening, it was too late.’

  The human remained silent.

  ‘I have dishonoured the name Madorine by permitting the killing of innocents, and for that, the gods will punish me for all eternity.’ Len’i pressed the sacking over the human’s wound. ‘May I know your name?’

  The human male looked at him, searching for some deceit, a lie, in the Orc’s face. After studying him for a while, he sensed none. ‘My name is Ædelmær,’ he replied, ‘Ædelmær Wulf.’

  ‘In other circumstances Ædelmær Wulf, I would have hoped that we could have been friends.’

  Ædelmær looked at the Orc confused.

  ‘Surprised that a Madorine would say such a thing?’

  ‘A little,’ Ædelmær confessed.

  ‘It may come as a shock to you, but my people are changing, evolving from the wagers of war to peaceful masters of commerce.’

  Ædelmær snorted and immediately regretted the action as the pain that followed a fit of coughing prevented him voicing what was on his mind.

  Len’i knew what the man was thinking and asked the question. ‘Why this?’ He waved his arm to signal the devastation about them.

  Ædelmær nodded and spat a glob of blood on the ground before him.

  ‘This was never meant to be. Our target was the elders. This is a raid gone badly, and I’m truly sorry. Raiders also killed my wife many years ago. It hurts deeply, and that is why I detest these actions today. I am sorry for your woman’s death.’

  ‘Tell that to my children.’

  ‘You have young?’ Len’i stood and roared in anger. ‘It was not meant to be this way. If I could turn back time and put right this terrible deed, I would.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’ Ædelmær asked.

  Len’i considered his response. ‘Despite what you think of me, or what you have come to believe about my kind, we are an honourable breed. By my father’s name, I must make amends today. Please, what must I do to right this terrible wrong?’

  Ædelmær looked at Len’i with a puzzled expression. No Orc he knew had ever shown even a glimmer of remorse or sympathy for anyone or for that matter any action performed in their name. How could he trust him knowing his kind was responsible for the death of his wife? Yet, there was something honourable about him, the way he had attended to his wound and spoken so openly and honestly.

  ‘There may be something you can do. Although, I need you to look at me in the eyes and tell me why I can trust you.’

  Without hesitation, Len’i knelt beside Ædelmær and stared him in the eyes. ‘By the bones of my father’s father and our family name, Morii, I swear to you this day that I will do all you ask without question and I will honour the faith that you place in me.’

  ‘My children, two boys—’

  ‘Yes, your young. Are they safe?’

  ‘I have sent them on a journey to their uncle’s home.’

  ‘This is good. Your young will grow to be strong and carry on your name.’

  ‘I’m dying, that much is obvious. If you are truly an honourable Orc, I beg you to find them and ensure a safe passage to their destination. In return, I offer my forgiveness.’

  ‘You have the word of Len’i Morii that your children will be safe. What are you children’s names?’ said Len’i, and held out an arm.

  Ædelmær took the arm and gripped it in a bond of trust. ‘Coinin and Marrok Wulf.’

  ❖

  Coinin sat on the hot deck of the ship and unashamedly sobbed.

  ‘We talked until he passed to the dark lands and then I left in search of you and your brother,’ Len’i finished, his head held low.

  Coinin wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand and sniffed. He did not look at Len’i; instead, he stared at the decking.

  ‘I could see that he was a good man and did not deserve that fate. We told each other stories about our lives, and I came to learn that our races are not so different. I was genuinely sad when he died. Which he did happily in the knowledge that I would honour my pact with him. My father always said that an Orc’s true wealth is measured by the good he does in the world. His words are what have driven me to be truthful with you today.’

  ‘I don’t remember you coming to our aid or guiding us to our uncle’s home,’ Coinin accused.

  ‘I did as your father asked. I tracked you and located you. However, I kept my distance. You would not have appreciated my presence after what had happened in your village.’

  Coinin looked at Len’i incredulously. ‘How can I believe a word you say?’

  ‘I know that you had a dog with you that day and that your father trusted me. I suppose that counts for something. I promised that day, should the opportunity arise, I would offer my life willingly to protect yours. This is my sworn honour and duty and recompense for the actions of my kind.’

  Coinin was satisfied that Len’i had spoken some truth. No one but he, Marrok and Draken knew that Jip the wolfhound had journeyed with them to their uncle’s home.

  ‘You are an unusual man ... I mean Orc.’

  ‘I’ve been told that before,’ replied Len’i. ‘You may not trust me; that needs to be earned. I know this, and I appeal to the young man who accepted me without reservation in Thuun’s prison to judge me apart from my people. Please understand that I never meant any harm to come to your parents and that I will do what I must to repay you and Marrok for your loss.’

  At the name of his brother Coinin stood up, suddenly concerned. Inside, his mind battled with so many choices. On the one hand, he could ask the Orc to leave his company and never return, and on the other, he could tell Marrok, though what would that accomplish? Another senseless death perhaps?

  Coinin looked at Len’i who appeared oddly distant and withdrawn. Perhaps the magnitude of what he had just done telling Coinin the truth was weighing heavily on his mind?

  ‘If I asked you to leave and never return, would you?’

  Len’i closed his eyes and screwed up his face as if in pain. ‘I would,’ he replied.

  ‘I can sense that you would rather not.’

 
‘My father instilled in me the need for honour and to repay what is owed. I owe you my life.’

  Tears welled up in Coinin’s eyes once more. Slowly, he held out a hand in forgiveness. ‘As much as it has pained me to hear your words, I cannot condemn you for the sins of others. I thank you for your honesty and the bravery it took to tell me the truth of what happened that day. It has hurt more than you know, yet I see good in you. I sensed that the moment we met.’

  Len’i took Coinin’s hand and shook it, thereby forging a new friendship based on honesty and mutual trust.

  ‘But know this,’ Coinin added. ‘To serve me, you must dedicate your life to The Brotherhood of The Wulf. Join their ranks and become a guardian of the faith. This is my price of redemption.’

  Len’i let go of Coinin’s hand with a pained expression. ‘It is no small thing to ask an Orc to switch allegiance to a god he does not know.’

  ‘I do not require you to do so. You may believe what you wish; your allegiance is to me, and you will serve my ends. Protect me and mine is all I demand if you want to make amends.’

  ‘Then we have an accord.’ Len’i dropped to one knee and yet still towered over Coinin. He bowed his head. ‘I pledge my life to your service, and by my honour, I give it willingly until death.’

  ‘I accept your service. Please report to General Jericho for your orders.’ Coinin paused. ‘I’m trusting you.’

  Len’i stood. ‘Your trust will not be misguided.’ He turned and walked away.

  As soon as Len’i was out of view, Coinin collapsed in grief. He knew he would never be able to tell Marrok what had transpired and he hated himself for it. He felt he had somehow betrayed his brother, and yet he could not bring himself to condemn what was essentially an innocent party. Len’i was complicit in the events leading up to the horrific events those long years ago but guiltless of the actual crime.

  ‘There you are you big crybaby,’ Marrok mocked.

  Coinin nearly jumped out of his skin. He had not heard his brother approach. ‘Damn you!’ he cursed, ‘don’t ever sneak up on me like that again.’

  ‘Why so grumpy? I thought you’d be over the moon.’

  Coinin placed a hand over his thumping chest to feel his heart desperately trying to escape his ribcage. He let out a steady stream of air. ‘Over the moon?’

  ‘Your thing with Aniol.’ Marrok nudged Coinin with an elbow and gave him a wink.

  Coinin blushed and stammered. ‘H … how do you know?’

  ‘There isn’t much I don’t know, little brother.’

  Not as much as you think you do, thought Coinin. ‘Well, that’s private,’ he said out loud.

  ‘There’s nothing private on this ship. So, why don’t you tell me what happened?’

  Coinin looked about him, self-conscious for the first time. ‘Not here. Follow me.’

  ❖

  Draken rested his elbows on the bulwark and watched the funeral taking place below, bored of life on board ship.

  To be home, curled up warm in front of a roaring fire in his quite bare yet functional abode, would be heaven compared to this. His nephews were dragging him along on a fool’s errand to capture or kill Lordich, instead of searching for the Swords of Cerathil.

  He decided there and then to broach the subject with his nephews in the hope of appealing to the sense of urgency they once possessed.

  Carrying his leather satchel, now his constant companion, he skirted the Captain’s quarters, and as he passed an open porthole, he stopped to listen. He had heard Coinin’s voice.

  ‘I never meant it to happen,’ said Coinin.

  ‘I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner,’ replied Marrok.

  ‘How am I going to be able to face her?’

  ‘By being a man. Apologise and move on. What’s difficult about that?’

  ‘Everything, if you have to face her every day.’

  ‘Seriously Coinin, grow a spine will you? Complain, complain, complain is all you do. Have you once asked how I am? What happened to me? Do you hear me bleating?’

  Coinin rounded in frustration. ‘I didn’t even get a chance to see you yesterday, what with escaping and everything.’

  Draken did not hear Marrok’s response as a loud hissing sound of escaping air from the bladder above him drowned out any sound. He listened once more as the hissing ceased.

  ‘What a fool I’ve been.’

  ‘That’s nothing new,’ Marrok joked.

  ‘Yes, I get it. I’m fair game. We have time, why not tell me now what happened to you.’

  Draken had to hear this and rushed to the cabin door. He barged inside to find Marrok leaning against the Captain’s desk with his bottom resting on the smooth surface and his right leg swinging lightly off the floor.

  ‘Ever heard of knocking?’ Marrok growled.

  Draken ignored the rebuke and marched over to Coinin who stood by a second open porthole in the rear wall of the cabin and hugged him in an awkward embrace.

  Coinin felt oddly comforted by the old man’s actions and reciprocated. He craved the love of his uncle and had never received it, except the night of his parents’ deaths, and it was an incredible feeling to be wanted and loved by the elder of the household, his surrogate father.

  Draken let go after a moment and slapped Coinin on the back. ‘Well, Marrok, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Welcome back.’ He turned to the elder nephew and opened his arms wide in expectation of a hug.

  Marrok hopped off the desk and backed away. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said.

  ‘Suit yourself, but it is good to see you too.’

  Marrok saw no truth in his uncle’s eyes and knew the old man did not care for him one jot. No matter, he did not care for him either.

  Draken crossed the room once more and sat in the Captain’s chair, slinging his feet up on the oak desk. ‘We’re waiting, Marrok. What happened?’

  Marrok gave an exasperated look and sat down on the Captain’s bunk. He looked far away in thought for several moments until Draken rudely interrupted his thoughts with a loud cough.

  Marrok glowered at his uncle and then began his tale.

  MARROK’S TALE

  The heat was unbearable. Sweat ran in rivulets down his dirty face leaving streaks of fleshly tones through the grime.

  Day and night he had been tormented by the band of pirates who had arrived unexpectedly during a dangerous mission into enemy territory to recover one of the lost Swords of Cerathil. The pirates had spared several of his comrades who had survived their vicious attack and promptly abducted him.

  He spent hot, sweltering days and freezing nights shackled in chains to a deck support in one of the ship’s cannon bays. The Captain, Wilhelmina, or Will Kelley to her friends and enemies, visited him in the middle of the night on numerous occasions and tried all manner of persuasions to seduce him. Marrok sensed, to his relief, that she had no desire to force her passion on him. He had to be willing to accept her advances.

  As the days wore on, she visited him less often, and with only the company of his guard, he was beginning to withdraw into himself.

  An unusual amount of activity above deck had woken him that morning. Already the sun cast beams of light through cannon ports on the side of the ship and blinded him as he opened his eyes. Thankfully he was able to wipe his sweaty brow, now that he had been chained by the ankle and not the wrists, which was often the case when the Captain visited him.

  ‘Morning Munch,’ he said civilly to his guard lounging several feet away.

  Munch did not hear him and scratched his beard, deep in thought. Munch was not the most vocal of companions, and yet there was no stopping him when he did decide to speak. His mouth, though, was more often than not used for other pursuits. Namely eating, hence the name Munch that Marrok had given him. Marrok could not remember a time he had not witnessed Munch shovelling food down his throat.

  Marrok coughed and repeated his greeting, louder this time.

  ‘What?’ Munch swivelled
his head. ‘Mornin’.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Marrok said, noting the guard’s concerned expression.

  ‘We’re headin’ into port today. End of the journey for ya.’

  ‘So you do care about me?’

  Munch gave Marrok a sour look. ‘No, it means I stays behind t’guard ya.’

  ‘Bored of my company already?’ Marrok quipped.

  ‘No, you’s a good man; I see this.’ Munch pointed to his left eye with a fat finger. ‘Bad man you’s goin’ see. Scares me.’

  ‘Would this man’s name be Lordich?’

  Munch looked like a child who had just received the strop to his behind. He nodded glumly.

  ‘Hey, don’t worry. If he’d have wanted me dead, Captain Kelley would surely have obliged him by now.’

  Munch pulled a nondescript gurn and nodded in agreement. ‘Tis true,’ he said, a little happier. He enjoyed the company of the human boy and had grown fond of him over the time they had spent together. He enjoyed the many tales Marrok retold from those he had heard his father tell. Stories of witches and wizards and battles against dragons on foreign shores.

  Munch was half elf, half orc, and as elves went, he was oddly shaped. The only sign that he possessed elvish blood was given away by his piercing yellow eyes and pointed ears. Yes, he was tall, except his love of food had expanded his waistline disproportionately.

  Munch did not know it, but Marrok had grown fond of him too. During one of their seldom discussions, Munch had told Marrok of the harsh upbringing he had endured as a child in his home village. His father and mother had fled the elven lands in fear of their lives during the great purge. Only pure elves were permitted to remain within the boundaries of Astanoth, and any non-elves who stayed died at the hands of the militia sent out to hunt for the impure. There was a fear that non-elves were watering down the bloodline and so a cleansing began to keep the bloodline pure.

  Nowadays, all elves, whether natural or born of the joining of two races, are invited to return to their ancestral home. Sadly, when the news came, it was too late for Munch’s mother who had succumbed to death in a farming accident. Munch’s father, as an orc, had no interest in residing within Astanoth; instead, he lived out his days alone in a small Madorine settlement and remained very far from content till the day he died.