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

by Harrison Davies

  ‘Not quite. Why don’t you visit Underworld, sample her delights, rest a while and allow us to take care of your injured? Aside from that, I’d like to discuss a few other important things with you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Mutually beneficial things, don’t worry. They are delicate and not for all ears. Will you do me the courtesy of visiting my city?’

  Coinin smiled. ‘I would be happy to.’

  ‘That is wonderful news. I will leave one of my … aides here to guide you, though right now I have a city to run. We will meet again soon.’

  The Prince and Coinin shook hands in farewell and parted ways. Riley retrieved his animals, while his aides collapsed the table and chairs. Once completed, Riley clicked his fingers at the closest aide and ordered him to stay behind. Then, with the remainder of his entourage, he disappeared into the gloom on his way back to the city.

  Coinin breathed easier and approached Riley’s aide, a heavily scarred Roderian male of average height and build who stood warily amongst strangers. ‘Greetings friend, what is your name?’

  ‘I am of the unnamed,’ replied the aide with a frown.

  ‘Oh, you’ve stumped me now.’

  The aide looked horrified. ‘Apologies, my Lord. It was not my intention to—’ he trailed off and looked down at the ground.

  ‘Firstly, my friend, I’m not a Lord, and secondly, no harm has been done. However, it is going to be difficult to address someone with no name. Is there a name you like?’

  The aide lifted his pale grey eyes to meet Coinin’s and smiled, as would a cunning child. ‘I’ve always liked the name Arzadad.’

  ‘Then you shall be named Arzadad,’ Coinin decided.

  The aide looked instantly terrified. ‘You cannot name me; it is forbidden,’ he screeched.

  Jericho tapped Coinin on the shoulder and interjected. ‘If I may, Curator? It would be best if we refrain from interfering in this culture’s established practices. It would not do to cause an incident that could be the source of enmity between our peoples.’

  Coinin took his counsel and nodded approval. ‘Tell me, how should we address you?’

  ‘With a click of your fingers or a clap, my Lord,’ the aide demonstrated.

  ‘Then we shall address you in this manner.’

  The aide visibly relaxed and Coinin looked at him, puzzled.

  ‘Out of curiosity, why aren’t you named?’

  The aide frowned and looked at Coinin with yellow-flecked eyes, astonished that the stranger did not know the reason. ‘An unnamed is not classed as an individual; only people have permitted freedoms and status. I am from birth an unnamed, and therefore a thrall, beholden to my position of bondage in the service of the Prince’s court until my death.’

  ‘What is a thrall?’

  The aide considered his response carefully. ‘The closest word in your tongue would be servant or slave.’

  Coinin and the others baulked. To The Brotherhood, the idea of slavery was wicked, unjust, and serviced only those who chose to control by force.

  ‘What?’ Marrok roared. ‘You are a slave?’

  ‘If that is the correct term, then, yes, I am.’

  ‘I have half a mind to storm that city and—‘

  ‘You will do no such thing!’ Coinin interrupted.

  ‘I will not sit idly by and watch this poor wretch be taken advantage of.’

  Coinin’s heart leapt. The old Marrok he missed was returning. He turned to the others. ‘Would you excuse me for a moment? I wish to speak with my brother privately.’ He led Marrok by the arm and out of earshot. ‘What are you doing, embarrassing us like that?’

  ‘What do you mean? I only said—’

  ‘I know what you said, and you have no right saying it. Jericho rightly pointed out that we cannot interfere in their customs, no matter how much we despise them.’

  ‘This is just wrong.’ Marrok gritted his teeth.

  ‘That may be, but who are you to judge? I understand only too well your passion, though you cannot save the world one person at a time. We have a whole world to save first.’ Coinin placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘I love you Marrok. However, you represent The Brotherhood now, and outbursts like these can be damaging. Let’s not have any more, or I’ll have to discipline you.’

  Marrok cocked an eyebrow and sniggered. ‘I’d like to see you try.’

  ‘That’s better, that’s the Marrok I know and love,’ Coinin smiled. ‘Oh, if this meeting with the Prince turns sour, you have my permission to tear the city apart to rescue your precious thralls.’

  Marrok smiled happily. ‘Deal.’

  The brothers ambled back to the small group waiting patiently for them. Coinin rolled his eyes and held up a palm to Jericho who appeared to be making a move to intervene. ‘Everything’s fine,’ he mouthed.

  Jericho nodded and fell back.

  Coinin stopped before the thrall. ‘You will guide us, but tell me, will our rafts reach this city or will walking be the order of the day?’

  The thrall walked over to the first of the rafts, that had been piloted beyond the entrance to the city. Jericho escorted the thrall and watched as the slave inspected it bow to stern, measuring it with strides. After judging its size, he returned to Coinin. ‘Indeed your craft will navigate the river successfully.’

  ‘Wonderful news. Thank you,’ Coinin said.

  The thrall winced, unused to thanks, but continued. ‘It is almost half a day’s march to the city, considerably less in your contraptions.’

  Coinin nodded that he understood and turned to a growing mass of onlookers who were eager to hear the news.

  ‘Friends, brothers and sisters.’ He held his arms wide. ‘After talks with the city leader, Prince Thymes, we have been invited to lodge there and tend to our wounded.’

  A clapping broke out, and an audible sigh of relief followed.

  ‘If we could pack up the camp, we will make all haste to the city.’

  The crowd hesitated, unsure of what to do, and Jericho felt the need to step up and support his superior. ‘Do as the Curator says and pack up the camp,’ he ordered.

  The crowd complied then and hurried to quench the campfires and collect the meagre provisions they had gathered.

  Coinin patted Jericho on the back. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Not a problem. Sometimes it helps to have a big mouth,’ Jericho chuckled. ‘Can I take a moment of your time?’

  ‘Is there something wrong?’

  ‘Maybe not. Perhaps it’s just my cynical self. Are you certain you are doing the right thing trusting this Prince?’

  ‘I’m never certain of anything, and I understand your concern, but what other option do we have? I’m not fool enough to think he doesn’t have a hidden agenda. He’s already indicated that he wishes to discuss a matter important to him.’

  ‘We’ve exhausted all other options of escape from our predicament. While you were in talks with the Prince, I was speaking with Quindil, and he says there is no way we can merely float by the city undetected. Apparently, there is a series of locks that the rafts would need to navigate.’

  ‘Locks?’

  ‘Water gates.’

  ‘Oh, I see. That is unfortunate.’

  ‘Indeed, therefore I’d like your permission to scout ahead to get the layout of this city and ascertain their strengths and weaknesses, or perhaps a way of escape should we need it.’

  ‘General, you do not need my permission. I welcome your forethought. Just don’t get caught spying.’

  ‘That’s the last thing I want. I’ll be careful.’

  Coinin suddenly remembered something that Jericho had said not so long ago. ‘I thought you wanted to take a less active role?’

  Jericho laughed. ‘You can’t keep an old dog down.’

  ‘Or a jaguar,’ Coinin winked.

  Jericho chuckled at Coinin’s quick wit. ‘I’m going to head off immediately. Will you delay your departure for a few hours? Also, please will you
distract the thrall? I don’t wish to be seen leaving which may raise suspicion.’

  Coinin nodded and clasped arms with the General. ‘May Rindor keep you safe.’

  ‘He’s done a good job so far. So long, Curator.’

  ‘Good hunting.’

  Jericho hurried to his tented sleeping bay and collected a leather pouch containing a small amount of dried meat, his pipe and tobacco and a flask of water. He attached it to his belt next to his sheathed sword and backed out of the tent. Laid over the apex of the canvas was a thick woollen cloak that he took down and draped around him, effectively hiding his armour.

  Checking about him, he nodded to Coinin and snuck behind the raft and out of sight. He waded through the river that rose to just below his waist, lifting the sodden half of his cloak over the crook of his arm and above the waterline. He carefully made his way, conscious that he could slip at any moment and be carried away in the fast-flowing current.

  After finally reaching the other side of the river he gave a sigh of relief and shed his cloak and sword. Sitting down on the hard rock, he tore off his boots one by one and poured a cascade of water from each and then pulled them back on. Removing his sword from its scabbard, he dried it and replaced in its sheath, thought not before pouring a spout of water from it. Next, he picked up his cloak and wrung the water from that and donned it once more. Replacing his sword on his belt, he was thankful that his tobacco had remained dry. Taking one last look at the camp, he crept silently away into the gloom.

  From the corner of his eye, Coinin saw Jericho slip away and smiled.

  UNDERWORLD

  Jericho had found it hard going in the dim light and rough terrain, yet despite this, he had hardly stopped since he had set off. He sweated profusely, and his legs felt as if someone had speared the muscles with hot pokers. As a younger man, this would have been a light march, though as he aged, his body began to slow him down, and he felt the effects of the strain more and more.

  He rounded a bend in the river and bypassed a large boulder, then stopped and marvelled at the most incredible sight he had ever seen. Quindil had not given his description justice. This was even more astonishing than the first time he clapped eyes on the Golden Temple as a young soldier.

  The river took a gradual downward turn, and before him, the cavern opened out into a vast basin of expansive proportions. Dozens of almost evenly spaced columns of gigantic rock held up the roof, and he immediately saw that the residents of the city had carved dwellings into the structures. Each column appeared like the core of a hungrily eaten apple—wider at the top and bottom than in the middle.

  Access was granted to the full height of the rock supports by open; spiralling walkways cut into the rock face itself. Hundreds of windows and doors cut into the columns gave off warm inviting light, and chimneys fashioned from tin belched thick coal smoke.

  He saw people climbing the stairways and entering or leaving their homes and wondered how anyone could live there. Several wooden additions with slanted rooftops could be seen protruding from the nearest column, and he assumed the residents had outgrown their homes and had built extensions.

  Connecting the many supports were a series of rope bridges that sagged over frightening drops.

  He ventured closer and came to a stairway leading down into the basin and stood to take in the new scene before him. To the left, where the river had formed a lake, a series of locks barred their exit. What appeared to be small fishing boats bobbed about in the murky water.

  Between the columns, buildings of all shapes and sizes had been erected, which appeared to Jericho to be mainly industrial in nature. Giant cogs that turned with metallic clanks and rumbles told him this. Molten metal spewed from orifices high in one building and travelled along small channels to enter another, giving off an orange glow that lit the high bluestone walls.

  From his vantage point, the only sounds of the city that rose above the river were that of the cogs that turned endlessly. He decided that to get a feel for the city, he needed to venture closer and headed down the wet, slippery stone steps.

  As he walked, he noticed that the residents of the city on either side of the river were growing simple foods, amongst them cabbage and turnip. Light had found its way from high above him through a series of holes in the rock roof and provided just enough illumination for the plants to grow. He slipped near the bottom of the steps and was thankful that a wooden handrail had been provided for such an eventuality.

  Reaching the bottom, he took a deep breath and then immediately regretted it. The air was sulphurous, and yet he doubted it was from the metal works; it was more probable that there was another source nearby. He took shallower breaths and ventured deeper into the industrial area of the city. Clangs and bangs were the predominant sound that invaded his ears. He walked by an open doorway and saw several sweaty, heavy-set males pounding hot metal with hammers. Sparks flew, and steam billowed from quenching buckets. It appeared to Jericho that they were making swords and other weapons on a grand scale.

  He marched by, avoiding the lingering gaze of a passer-by, and wrapped his cloak tighter around him. Extracting his pipe and tobacco he prepared it for a smoke, and after a minute successfully lit it with a striker and puffed away merrily. He walked casually along a wide alleyway and sidestepped small rivers of urine-snaked paths through detritus littering the way. The smell made him gag, and he was relieved to reach the end.

  Upon exiting, he found himself in a run down, dirty marketplace packed with species of all kinds, although it did appear that Roderians were dominant. They wore mainly ragged clothing and were dirt ridden, though the majority seemed to wear a smile. Despite their apparent poor living conditions, they were making the most of a bad situation.

  The market had around it a handful of wooden barrows displaying the produce he had seen growing on the banks of the river. By the usual standards, he was used to seeing, these vegetables were of poor quality, small and wilted.

  He felt sorry for these people living in such squalid conditions and wondered what they had done to deserve such a fate. The other question that came to mind was why they were damned, as the city gates had referred to them.

  He heard children playing nearby and felt pity for them, having to grow up in this underground hell. Dogs wandered freely seeking scraps of food, and a drunkard sang a tune while sitting in the doorway of what appeared to be a hostelry. He had seen places like this before in some of the most run down cities on Er’ath, and he knew the fault always lay at the door of those in charge.

  He skirted the market avoiding the constant calls to sample wares and brushing off grubby hands begging for gold. Above him, he spotted a walkway from which two bodies hung from the neck. A dozen people crossed from one side to the other with not so much as a glance at them.

  Walking down a central plaza, he came close to one of the massive columns for the first time. He was impressed by the sheer size and the way in which the people here had used them. However, he was shocked to see that the majority of the lower surface was made up of skulls and bones of the dead.

  Wandering over for a closer look he saw that the bones were held in place with dried mud and he wondered if it was a ritual in honour of the dead or if they were the remains of enemies fought in battle. Either way, he did not relish the thought of ending up as a trophy on a wall somewhere.

  The plaza was broad and lit by flaming torches at regular intervals. It was deserted aside from several hooded individuals huddled around braziers warming themselves. Archways at the sides of the plaza ran the full length and led to a large, opulent bluestone building that was out of place with the rest of the surroundings. It was very well kept, and Jericho figured it was the Prince’s palace.

  Surrounding the structure was a wall interspersed with iron railings, separating it from the plaza. Tall windows, black and lifeless, were accented by light sandstone walls adjoining them. A single, thick wooden door lined with iron studs barred entry into the building, and aside fro
m that, there was not much more to see, other than two guards manning the door, complete with spears.

  With nothing else to see, Jericho looked skyward and decided that he would venture upwards and look for an exit. He walked to the nearest column and mounted the stairwell. Without the aid of a railing to prevent a fall, it was a scary proposition to venture so high.

  As he passed the various dwellings cut into the rock, he sneaked peeks through the open windows and doors. The rooms beyond were relatively clean and functional; simple mattresses dominated the rear, and an area to cook was often a fireplace. A few dwellings seemed to possess substantial personal belongings whilst others were bare. He climbed higher and higher, not daring to look down to his left for fear of the urge to jump overtook him to join his shakes.

  With aching limbs, and after what felt like a lifetime, he arrived at the top and was presented with two available routes. He chose to go right, which would take him to a tunnel carved into the rock wall of the cavern. At least the bridge leading to it had rope he could hold onto, and it certainly appeared to be the safest option. The bridge to his left spanned the gap between himself and the next nearest column. To his concern, it looked unstable.

  As he crossed his bridge of choice it swayed precariously, and peering down; he noticed that the wooden boards crossing the gaps appeared to be rotting. He prayed to Rindor that the boards would hold his weight, and he moved as quickly as he dared.

  Relieved to finally reach the tunnel at the end of the rope bridge, he gratefully stepped onto the solid rock floor. He rested with his back against the stone wall and breathed slowly trying to calm himself. He had never been fond of heights, and it took a while for his shakes to subside.

  A few minutes went by until he had relaxed enough to grab a torch and venture slowly through the tunnel. A breeze sent shivers through him as he made his way up the steep incline before him. He rounded a bend, and there ahead, an iron door barred exit. After cursing, he tried the door, and to his relief, it opened. Beyond, he saw a small pinprick of light. He ventured forward, and the light grew larger and larger until he was stood in the warm sun on the crest of a hill overlooking an endless wasteland.