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

by Harrison Davies

  ‘Hey, sleepy head, wake up.’

  ‘Just another five minutes,’ Coinin complained and turned over.

  Marrok nudged his brother with a toe. ‘Come on, Coinin, wake up.’

  ‘What is it? Morning already?’

  ‘Yes, the envoys should be back anytime soon.’

  ‘Oh, of course. I’ll freshen up first and join you on the riverbank.’

  Coinin watched Marrok leave and sat up, glanced around and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He flung the woollen blanket away and stretched his stiff muscles with satisfaction.

  The sun had been up a long time, and its rays crept through the small holes in the roof of the cavern, cascading light across the landscape.

  Life was stirring. Haggard, bruised and exhausted groups of people, shuffled about sleepily. Campfires made from dry moss spread across the riverbank and warmed cold hands or cooked small fish and mussels caught the previous day.

  All in all, the situation was a miserable affair. Many felt despondent and nervous of what was to come, and squabbles would break out randomly. More than once Marrok had found himself cracking heads and separating individuals at odds with one another.

  The pressure was getting to everyone, and it was no wonder tempers had begun to boil over.

  Coinin exited his tented sleeping quarters and strolled down the riverbank. Once out of sight of the camp he relieved himself behind a large rock, thankful at least for one pressure to have been eased.

  He heard a skitter of stones behind him and whirled quickly. Annoyed and embarrassed, his heart thumped in his chest.

  ‘Aniol, what are you doing here?’ he snapped, feeling self-conscious and turning beetroot red.

  ‘I’m still your personal guard, am I not?’

  Coinin grunted. ‘Just don’t sneak up on me.’

  ‘I wasn’t sneaking. Don’t worry; I didn’t see anything.’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ he said. ‘I’d prefer it if you’d announce your arrival in future.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Aniol pouted.

  Coinin’s heart began to slow to normal, and he felt remorseful at having spoken to her so rudely.

  ‘I’m sorry, Aniol. I should’ve held my tongue. In fact, I’m pleased you’re by my side.’

  ‘You are under a lot of stress, Coinin. I understand totally.’

  ‘Nevertheless, it was rude and uncalled for.’ He held out a hand in friendship.

  Aniol shook her head and refused the hand. ‘I’m not shaking that until you’ve washed it.’

  Coinin looked at his hand and sniggered. He found a puddle of water and washed himself clean before wiping the excess water on his leggings.

  They began their walk back towards the raft in silence until Coinin stopped and lightly held Aniol’s wrist, effectively stalling her.

  He faced her, looking very sheepish. ‘About that other thing—’

  Aniol raised a warning finger and shook her head. ‘It’s forgotten; let’s talk of it no further.’

  ‘But I—’

  ‘No buts, Coinin. We will say no more on this subject,’ Aniol said firmly.

  Coinin nodded, deflated, and they continued their slow amble back to the camp.

  ‘I am sorry, though.’

  Aniol growled, flung her arms in the air in frustration and strode ahead of him.

  Coinin smiled to himself and then felt suddenly flat. He was forgiven, and things were back to normal, except there was a problem. His heart to his puzzlement had begun to beat for her, and he knew he could never divulge it.

  Arriving back at the camp, Coinin stopped off to collect a chunk of toasted bread dipped in olive oil. He devoured it and headed over to the rafts where he stepped inside his makeshift tent to retrieve his uniform. A minute later, and with a bundle under his arm, he exited the tent and hopped ashore.

  Clattering across stones, he stepped from one rock to another until he came to a sheltered pool well away from the camp.

  ‘Aniol, stand guard and ensure that I am undisturbed. I’m going to bathe.’

  ‘Bathe? Why?’

  ‘If there is a chance that I will be visiting the leader of Underworld today, I at least wish to be clean. In fact, please go back to camp and tell Marrok that I want him and Jericho bathed and in uniform by the time I get back.’

  ‘I can’t just leave you like that,’ Aniol protested.

  ‘It’s a direct order Aniol. Now please, I wish for some privacy.’

  Aniol shook her head in disbelief and annoyance that once again, the Curator did not put his safety above everything else. ‘Aye, Sir,’ she said reluctantly and stormed away angrily.

  Coinin sighed. He was alone for the first time in months, and it was liberating. He clambered down to the pool’s edge, and in doing so disappeared below a natural hollow in the riverbank.

  He stripped off his clothing until he was naked and tested the water with a toe. It was freezing, though he was ready for that. He placed his left hand in the water and concentrated on heating the water. His bare feet gave him direct contact with the earth, and he was able to draw from and utilise the elemental forces more efficiently. The water heated quickly, and before long the ideal temperature was reached. He slid quietly into the balmy pool, enjoying the calm and soothing warmth.

  Allowing himself to close his eyes and relax, he let his emotions and problems wash away with the dirt and did not notice someone slip into the pool beside him.

  His eyes shot open as something stroked his leg under the water. He looked to his left and almost screamed with fright. A skeleton with remnants of skin that peeled away from the bone stared back at him with a toothy grin. Coinin tried to back away; however, the skeleton’s grip on his leg felt like a vice.

  ‘Let go!’ he yelled, trying to release the skeletal hand holding him there.

  ‘I have a message for you Coinin Wulf,’ the skeleton screeched.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Who I am matters not. The message is all that should concern you.’

  ‘Tell me the message!’ Coinin said, desperate to get away from the disgusting creature.

  ‘Mort sends his greetings and offers you one more chance to comply with his demands, or lest be prepared to die.’

  As the skeleton screeched its reply, maggots continued to eat their way through the remaining skin on its skull, turning Coinin’s stomach.

  ‘How many times must I tell Death that I will not do his bidding?’

  ‘My Master will not take no for an answer. You have until the equinox to comply, or your fate will be sealed.’

  ‘What happens at the equinox?’ Coinin asked, worried that the answer would be a grisly, painful death.

  ‘I don’t know, you tell me,’ Marrok said from the poolside.

  Coinin jumped and cursed. ‘Where’s the skeleton?’ he yelled.

  Marrok frowned. ‘Skeleton?’

  ‘Yes, a skeleton ... there was a skeleton right there,’ Coinin replied, pointing to the empty space beside him.

  ‘You must’ve been dreaming.’

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Long enough.’

  ‘And you didn’t see anything?’

  Marrok sighed. ‘How many times? No! Only you sitting there talking away to yourself.’

  ‘Am I going mad?’

  ‘Unlikely; you’re probably just over tired.’ Marrok shrugged.

  Coinin nodded unconvinced.

  ‘So, are you going to tell me?’

  ‘Tell you what?’

  ‘About the skeleton,’ Marrok replied exasperated.

  ‘Oh, that. Perhaps it wasn’t real.’

  ‘It was real enough for you to start yelling about it.’

  ‘There was a message. Mort has given me till the equinox to add his name to the Scroll of Life, or die.’

  ‘What’s an equinox?’

  ‘No idea. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.’

  ‘He’s taken his time, though. If he could kill you, sure
ly he would have done it the first time you met?’

  In a way Marrok made sense. Perhaps all Mort could do was to threaten, and hope that his victim caved to pressure. They knew already that Death could not step foot on Er’ath, though Archmage Menin had told them of the one and only time that Mort could visit and set foot on solid ground, and that was during the Cerathil Sword reunion ceremony.

  And of course, Death could manipulate physical beings to do his bidding. Perhaps Mort sensed that his time was running out and he was becoming desperate.

  ‘I suppose so,’ Coinin shrugged. ‘Although it’s not a nice having the threat hanging over your head.’

  ‘Well, little brother, there is no point sitting there worrying about it. We’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. Get out of there and let’s see if the envoy has returned.’

  ❖

  Coinin and Marrok waited impatiently for Quindil to return. Marrok kicked stones into the river and Coinin paced. Aniol had been asked several times by Jericho to cease tapping her spear on the ground, and she had complied on each occasion, though subconsciously the tapping began again.

  ‘Has the time been reached yet?’ Coinin asked.

  ‘I’d say another five minutes,’ Jericho replied.

  ‘I’m getting hungry,’ Marrok added.

  Coinin looked at Aniol and rolled his eyes. She giggled in response.

  ‘What?’ Marrok said, catching the look they gave one another.

  ‘Nothing,’ they said in unison.

  Marrok shook his head. Yes, he liked his food. Their eye contact hadn’t gone unnoticed either.

  For the hundredth time, he checked around him once more to ensure that the guard he had placed under Dalia’s direction was in a position to protect the camp should the need arise.

  Not too far away, anxious groups of onlookers eagerly awaited Quindil’s return. Perhaps they too were becoming tired of stale bread and bony fish or mussels.

  Out of the gloom and passing under the city entrance, several figures came into view making their way along the riverbank towards Coinin and the others.

  From the corner of his eye, Marrok saw his bowmen draw back on their strings slightly from their positions high above the river.

  Everyone was on edge, and Coinin found himself flanked by Aniol and Marrok. Quindil had returned, to everyone’s relief, and had brought with him a handful of residents from the city who remained on the far side of the city entrance.

  Quindil approached and saluted.

  ‘What news?’ Coinin asked and returned the salute.

  ‘I have returned with an envoy from the city who wishes to speak with you.’

  ‘Then bring them forth.’

  ‘I would, but they cannot venture beyond the entranceway.’

  Coinin looked over Quindil’s shoulder to see figures in the gloom. ‘Did you ask why?’

  ‘Something about a magic barrier, Sir. I’m sorry, I should have asked.’

  ‘Nevermind, all will come clear. Let us greet these newcomers.’ Coinin replied.

  ‘I object,’ Marrok stepped in. ‘We do not know what risks there are approaching these people.’

  ‘Do you wish to stay here, never going forward, since we cannot go back?’ Coinin countered. ‘Besides, I have you and Aniol at my side.’

  ‘I don’t like it. If you insist, run on my order if there is trouble.’

  Coinin nodded and confidently strode forward. ‘Time to introduce me to this envoy.’

  The small party, ready for the first signs of danger stepped through the high archway of the city entrance and stopped before a handful of people.

  Coinin knew instantly that the newcomers were Roderians from Rodine, thanks to a mine of information stored in his brain.

  The Major stepped between Coinin and a male twice his height who held before him two hungry-looking wolves on leashes.

  The stranger towered over Coinin, and he felt tiny, though thankfully safe thanks to his personal guard.

  The tall, robed individual handed his leashes to an aide who took the animals aside.

  Quindil cleared his throat. ‘Curator Wulf, may I present Prince Riley Thymes, Lord Protector of Underworld.’

  Coinin thumped his fist against his shining breastplate in salute and held out an arm in friendship. ‘Lord Protector, I bid you welcome and offer you friendship and hospitality, although, I dare say that our conveniences are a little wanting at present.’

  ‘Curator Wulf, mai frund, cepta und stenda hund frund,’ replied the Prince.

  Coinin shook his head. ‘Excuse me?’

  The Prince chortled, and Coinin looked to Jericho for advice. Had he said something wrong?

  A small child wearing a grey hood stepped forward. She held in her tiny hands a small bowl of water, and over her shoulder a rough cotton towel. She knelt on one knee and proffered the bowl to Coinin.

  Coinin reached to take it in his hands, and the small child shook her head.

  ‘You must wash your hands and face, Curator,’ Quindil informed him. ‘It will help you to understand the Prince for a short time.’

  Coinin frowned at the Major and did as he was instructed. He sloshed water across his face, feeling the cold nip him. He rubbed his hands with the water and then flicked away the excess. Once finished he was given the small red towel by the child. He dried his face and hands and then passed it back. ‘Now what?’ He turned to Quindil.

  ‘I don’t fully understand it, Curator. It seems that their magic water permits you to understand their language for a time,’ Quindil replied. ‘Without it, communication would be hopeless. You will not speak their language, though you will understand.’

  ‘Ah, good. Thank you.’ Coinin nodded gratefully. ‘I ask that everyone else follows suit.’

  Several moments went by while each of Coinin’s support also washed in the water, and when sufficient time had passed for the water to work, Prince Riley smiled and offered his arm to Coinin.

  ‘Curator Wulf, my friend. I accept your offer wholeheartedly and extend my own arm to bind our friendship.’

  This time, Coinin was relieved to be able to understand the Prince, and they gripped forearms and shook. A coldness seeped up his arm, and he was grateful when the shake had ended.

  The Prince’s skin was grey and clammy, and the hollow face was almost skeletal. His smile held a series of sharp pointed teeth on the upper row, surrounded by dark grey lips. He was completely bald, and although he appeared imposing, his smile was genuine.

  There was no way that Coinin could see to age the Prince. He was neither wrinkled nor smooth, but mottled and covered head to toe in small liver-type spots that could be found on an ageing human gentleman. They were too large to be freckles and resembled the speckling found on a Dunlin’s egg.

  What intrigued Coinin the most was the wispy, see-through material the Prince wore as a robe. He had never seen anything quite like it and found it to be hypnotic in its undulations caused by the breeze.

  ‘Perhaps I can interest you in a drink or a morsel of food?’ Coinin enquired.

  ‘Ah, as kind as your offer is, I have very specific food requirements. Perhaps I can interest you in a sample of a particularly fine tasting vintage wine?’ Riley held up his arm and clicked his long, thin fingers.

  His aides quickly set up a folding wooden table and chairs where they stood. The whole thing was over so fast, Coinin had no chance to see where the aides had acquired the furniture and was impressed.

  ‘Please, sit,’ said the Prince, and gestured to the rightmost seat.

  Coinin smiled and nodded, and took the invitation. He waited for the Prince to sit first and the joined him at the small table, with only the minor inconvenience of having to move his thick cloak out of the way before he could do so.

  Quick as lightning he found that a glass of red wine had appeared at the table.

  ‘Please drink,’ Riley urged.

  Coinin noted the lack of a glass for the Prince. ‘Are you not d
rinking?’

  ‘One does get terribly bored of one’s own wine after many years of consumption. Perhaps later.’

  Coinin reached for the glass and found to his surprise that Aniol interjected and snatched the glass from his hand.

  ‘Allow me.’ Aniol bowed respectfully. She took a gulp of wine and waited a moment before giving it back to Coinin. ‘Seems good,’ she said and stepped back.

  Coinin shook his head in disbelief. What was she doing?

  The Prince, on the other hand, chortled loudly. ‘You can never be too careful,’ he declared.

  Coinin realised then what Aniol had done and silently thanked her for such bravery. Then the thought that it could have been poisoned sickened him, and he felt angry at her for risking her life for his.

  ‘I apologise if it appears that I do not trust you.’

  ‘Think nothing of it. I would do the same. Here you are in a strange land, at the gates of an unknown city and starting a new friendship based on trust alone.’

  Coinin instantly liked this Prince; he seemed at ease in his company and relaxed, and that gave him a good feeling that things were about to look up.

  ‘This is an excellent wine,’ Coinin complimented.

  ‘Thank you. I wonder if we might talk for a while about your journey here?’

  ‘Certainly, perhaps if we walk and talk?’

  Coinin and Riley stood and meandered deep in conversation. At Coinin’s request, Aniol stayed a little way behind while he and Riley talked.

  They conversed for almost an hour with the Prince delving into every detail of their adventures. Coinin was happy to discuss the reason for being underground and the quest to find Lordich. It was not a secret, and he knew anyone he spoke to could hold information about Lordich and his whereabouts.

  ‘I’m sorry for your losses, Coinin. I may call you Coinin?’

  ‘Absolutely, your Highness.’

  ‘Ah, now, you must call me Riley.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me asking, Riley is an unusual name. Where does it come from?’

  ‘My father, King Thymes, named his two sons after the traits he most embodied. I was named Courageous, or Riley in our tongue and my brother was named Fierce, or Jarek.’

  ‘You are Prince of an underworld city?’