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

by Harrison Davies

  Before setting off they had negotiated two plans of action between them. Firstly, they agreed on a potential method of entry into Prince Jarek’s palace, but unknown to his brother, Prince Riley, Coinin and Menin desired to assess the truthfulness of Riley’s story before they committed.

  Riley had claimed that his brother Jarek had murdered their father, the king, and had taken his throne by force, despite Riley being the next in line to succeed him.

  Menin felt it prudent to visit the city and frequent several taverns or other establishments to strike up casual conversations with the regulars. Sufficiently lubricated at The Brotherhood’s expense, they would undoubtedly talk openly. Once satisfied that they had verified Riley’s story, Coinin and the others would enact the second phase of their plan. Infiltrate the palace.

  Red-crested gulls, resting on a rocky outcrop, chattered away noisily and screeched in protest as the boats sailed by and disturbed their roosting grounds.

  Out of the gloom, Rodine City loomed large and unusually well lit by Rosthagaarian standards.

  ‘Oh, no, not more flying ships,’ Marrok cursed.

  ‘These look to be very different.’ Coinin peered at several enormous objects that floated above the city.

  The glow from the city lit the undersides of the airships, considerably larger than any they had previously encountered. The craft were lumbering and not streamlined in the same fashion as a pirate airship. The simple truth was that these were cargo vessels, designed to carry heavy produce.

  Many were constructed similarly; however, others were built differently to ships they had seen previously, and one sported multiple leather air bladders that held the vessel aloft. This particular craft had six smaller bladders connected by a series of pipes and ironwork and was designed to hold a section of the Palace of Rodine high above the ground. It was, in fact, a floating watchtower that housed the ever-watchful palace guard.

  ‘A good design,’ Jericho admired. ‘Should one or two bladders fail, the vessel would stay afloat or at least sink slowly to the ground.’

  ‘You mean it won’t crash like our last ship,’ Marrok said, with a scratch of his thick beard.

  Coinin shuddered, remembering the terrible loss of life sustained when the airship they had commandeered had plummeted out of the sky to impact the desert floor of the Dead Lands. ‘I never want to travel on one of those things ever again,’ he declared.

  ‘Here, here,’ those around him agreed.

  ‘I’ve never had that pleasure,’ Archmage Menin mused.

  ‘It’s a terrible experience,’ Zaruun announced. ‘I’d rather be hung by the ankles for a week.’

  Menin looked at him incredulously. ‘When have you ever been a passenger on an airship?’

  ‘Forty years ago. My father, Lord Sherin, and I had a run in with sky pirates. I was only a child, but I remember it well, like it was yesterday.’

  ‘Get comfortable gentlemen, here comes one of Zaruun’s famous tales to bore you to tears.’

  Zaruun gave Menin a withered look and pursed his lips. ‘Well, I was going to tell you the short version, but now –’

  ‘No, please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,’ Menin mocked, her eyes smiling in the moonlight.

  Jericho stood up and squinted at something looming in the darkness. ‘I think your story must wait, Zaruun. Look.’ He pointed to a dark, angular shape that bore down on them. ‘Douse the lights, quickly,’ he hissed. ‘Everyone is to remain quiet, and do not move a muscle.’

  To the sizzle of lamps being extinguished, Coinin strained his eyes in an attempt to make sense of the object moving swiftly towards them. ‘What is it?’ he whispered.

  ‘Shush, it’s another boat, possibly a guard patrol. I don’t, however, think they’ve seen us.’ The general crouched low and unhitched a halyard that held the sail upright. As silently as he could, he let out the rope, and the sail lowered. A quick look behind told him that their companion boat was following suit, as instructed prior to casting off. “Mirror all that the lead boat does,” Jericho had advised.

  With the sail lowered the progress of the boat was now subject to the will of the lake’s motion. Thankfully, the moon had disappeared behind a cloud, or they would surely have been spotted.

  They waited in silence as a ship ten times their size bore down on them with frightening speed. Jericho knew then that he had done the wrong thing and scrambled for the oars. However, the straps holding them to the sides of the boat had swollen with the moisture in the air, which prevented a quick release.

  ‘Who has a knife?’ Jericho said.

  Marrok, tall and well-built, appeared at his side and produced a long, thin blade with a flourish.

  The general seized the knife and nodded in gratitude. ‘Thanks.’ He sliced furiously at the leather thongs binding the oars.

  ‘Hurry,’ Aniol squealed.

  Jericho looked up and took a sharp intake of breath. The boat turned out to be a ship, a frighteningly large vessel that was almost on top of them. He frantically hacked at the straps in desperation. If he failed to release the oars, the ship could hit and capsize them.

  ‘Get down!’ Menin yelled.

  Jericho dove onto the floor of the boat just as the ship struck. With a screech of wet wood on metal, the small boat was violently thrust away, the wave at the ship’s bow threatening to sink them. Their craft spun on the water and bobbed there, thankfully remaining in one piece.

  From his new vantage point, Coinin, by the lights of several oil lamps that swung from poles attached to the sides of the ship, saw that the vessel was of iron construction. Water wheels either side of the vessel, and the size of four men end to end, churned the water, propelling the craft along. He had seen nothing like it, and he puzzled how the iron behemoth was able to stay afloat.

  The deck of the ship appeared to be laden with wooden crates of varying sizes, and as the craft departed it was clear that it was, in fact, a cargo vessel heavy with goods.

  Coinin and the others sighed with relief. They had avoided a sinking by the skin of their teeth, and each of them was visibly shaken by the thought of ending up in the dark waters of an unknown lake where they would likely freeze and drown within minutes.

  As if to punctuate the point, a horrible sound of wood splitting and anguished cries rocked the otherwise quiet of the night. All eyes turned to see the companion boat splinter and break in two as the iron ship overran it. Frantic soldiers dived to safety and surfaced again almost immediately in the freezing water. They called and waved in desperation and panic.

  ‘Break out the oars,’ Marrok ordered.

  Without needing to be told a second time, each of the occupants of the boat wrenched at the oars and freed them from their bonds as the partially cut leather straps gave way to brute force. The oars were then seated in brass oarlocks, and Marrok and several others began the task of rowing towards the stranded soldiers.

  ‘Quickly, we mustn’t waste time,’ said Menin, and relit the boat’s oil lamp.

  Marrok shook his head and bit his tongue, which stuck out beyond his lips. He was rowing as fast as he could, already conscious that it was unknown how many of the crew could swim, and so the race was on to rescue the stranded. The heavy, steel Brotherhood armour could very well drag them to the bottom of the lake if they were too late.

  By the time the rescue boat reached the stricken men, several were in full panic and were finding it difficult to keep their heads above water. The boat bumped into the first of the survivors, and a shocked face turned and scrambled to climb aboard.

  ‘Carefully now, we don’t want to be swamped,’ Zaruun cautioned, and assisted the young man into the craft.

  The other soldiers in the water noticed the lead boat had arrived and with it rescue from the icy waters. Panicked troops seemed to arrive all at once and threatened to tip the craft as they gripped its side.

  ‘Let us on,’ said one, and tried to climb aboard. ‘I beg you.’

  ‘Just hold tight, son.
We’ll get you to the shore soon,’ Jericho reassured, and forcefully pushed the soldier back down into the water.

  ‘B … but, it’s s … so cold.’

  ‘My armour is so heavy. It’s going to pull me under,’ another complained.

  ‘I know it is, stay calm; we’ll soon have you warm, just grip the boat tightly.’

  More and more cold hands gripped the sides of the boat as Menin stood and delved into her cloak. She withdrew a small phial of tonic and knelt beside each of the partly submerged soldiers, and offered them a snifter of her foul tasting liquid.

  ‘Drink this, it’ll warm you,’ she said, and moved onto the next.

  ‘No, thank you. My skin is much too thick to feel this cold,’ Len’i partially lied. His desire not to show weakness to the Archmage outweighed the sensible option of taking the concoction. In fact, the lake was incredibly cold by Rosthagaarian standards, so much so, that even an orc was in danger of succumbing to hypothermia in these waters.

  ‘I’ll have double then,’ Captain Dalia quipped, and shivered uncontrollably until she received a drop of the liquid. Her cheeks flushed, and she immediately stopped shaking, but still the cold bit at her, though she was content to ride out the rest of the journey.

  ‘Right, that’s the lot of them. Get the sail up,’ Marrok instructed.

  Jericho gripped the halyard once again and yanked until the sail unfolded and caught the wind. It billowed, and the boat lurched once more on its way to the shoreline.

  Twenty cold and wet minutes later, as the hangers on were on the verge of collapse, the boat ran aground not too far from the City of Rodine.

  Coinin and the others jumped from the boat into icy cold, ankle deep water and assisted the shivering soldiers further up the stony shore and into a patch of hardy reeds that offered some small shelter from a biting wind.

  Coinin took his sword and hacked at the reeds until he had enough for a large pile, and with the aid of a little magic, a roaring fire soon warmed those who crowded around it. This sent ghostly shadows dancing around the freezing soldiers.

  Captain Dalia was the first to unashamedly strip to her undergarments and crouch near the fire for warmth, and soon others followed suit. Marrok took his dry cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. It seemed everyone was now semi-naked and warming when Coinin noticed that one of the soldiers had held back and remained dressed in a sodden cloak.

  Coinin stood and approached the straggler. ‘Come now; you’ll freeze.’

  With a hood covering his face, the soldier backed away and shook his head.

  Coinin was not about to lose a Brotherhood soldier to the cold. ‘Strip, now, that’s an order!’

  The cowled figure again silently refused and caution prompted Coinin to snap his fingers at Marrok. ‘Restrain him, brother.’

  Marrok rushed over and held the insubordinate soldier’s arms tightly, while Coinin pulled down the cowl hiding the face.

  ‘Draken?’ Coinin stepped back, staggered and confused by his uncle’s presence.

  Marrok released Draken’s arms and stood nose to nose with him, his scruffy beard tickling the other’s face. ‘What are you doing here, old man?’

  ‘Stop calling me old man. Show some damned respect. For your information, I am younger than Jericho.’

  Marrok’s eyebrows flicked upwards, and he looked to Jericho, who in turn shrugged his shoulders and then nodded. ‘I’ll show you some respect when you stop skulking around and turning up where you aren’t invited.’

  ‘Why are you even here?’ Coinin demanded.

  Draken looked about him, conscious that all were watching him. ‘Regardless of what you think of me, I do care for my nephews. I couldn’t see you travel this course alone.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you come forward and request to join us before we set off?’

  ‘You would never have agreed.’

  ‘He has a point there,’ Jericho said. ‘I’d never have let him come along.’

  ‘That decision is mine to make, and mine alone,’ Coinin spat. ‘But, do not assume, Uncle, that you would know my answer to your request.’

  ‘Would you have permitted me passage with you?’

  Coinin sighed. ‘On this occasion, no.’

  ‘There, you see? I told you so, and you ask why I did not reveal myself.’

  Archmage Menin glowered at Draken with her piercing green eyes, and he avoided her stare. He was her least favourite person, next to Lordich Secracar. ‘Perhaps you should return to Underworld in the boat.’

  ‘Be reasonable, Archmage. He cannot pilot the boat alone. Besides, I have a much better use for him now that he is here,’ Coinin said.

  Draken frowned. ‘Which is?’

  Coinin wrapped an arm around his uncle. ‘Secure us another transport back to Underworld. We are, after all, one boat down.’

  ‘How on earth do you expect me to do that? This is a strange city, and I likely don’t even speak their language, let alone have any currency.’

  ‘Beg, borrow, or find another cunning way, whichever you prefer.’

  ‘You mean I should steal?’

  ‘That would be against all The Brotherhood stands for, but since you are no longer a brother of the order, the choice lies with you.’

  Draken huffed and shrugged off Coinin’s arm. ‘I just don’t know if I can be of assistance to you in this matter. I mean, this isn’t my responsibility after all.’

  Coinin closed his eyes and his shoulders dropped. ‘Then, leave. Go. Your usefulness is at an end.’ He gestured to the city. ‘Have a nice life in Rodine.’

  ‘N … now, let’s not be hasty, shall we? Perhaps if I –’

  ‘Too little, too late,’ Coinin said with finality and walked away. ‘Escort him to the city.’

  ‘With pleasure.’ Jericho seized the thin man by the arm and marched him away into the darkness.

  Protests and pleas followed and grew steadily quieter as the two men ventured towards the city.

  ‘Wait, hold on, I beg you.’ Desperation crept into his voice.

  Jericho relished this. For too long already this traitor had remained in their presence. ‘No, Draken. You’ve made your bed; now it is time to lie upon it.’

  Coinin looked out over the lake with sadness, and a surprising tear in his eye for his uncle. As awful and unkind as that man was, he was family. But even family needed to pull their own weight right now. Perhaps Marrok had been right all along, the man was of no practical use to them and only served to slow them down.

  HATCHING THE PLAN

  Gone was Draken, and with him, unknown to Coinin and the others, the stolen Sword and Rose of Cerathil.

  Jericho returned some time later after ensuring that Draken had indeed left their presence. Marrok was the first to approach him.

  ‘Where did you take him?’ he asked, secretly hoping that it was off the side of a cliff.

  ‘I just directed him to the nearest lights of the city with a warning not to return. Why?’

  Marrok shook his head. ‘It is of no importance. The main thing is that he is out of our hair.’

  Jericho clapped the younger man on the back in celebration. ‘That makes me a very happy man indeed.’

  ‘Likewise.’ Marrok smiled and set off back to camp with his elder in tow.

  ❖

  Draken, with his dark, lank hair unable to billow in a breeze, found himself alone in a strange city. He held back panic and frustration. The city, itself, was unlike any that he had seen before.

  He stood at the periphery of the main city square and felt small and insignificant next to its dominant features. Red brick buildings, solidly built by master craftsmen and designed unlike any he had come to know, rose three to four storeys high. They were mostly residential, other than the industrial structures dotted around the fringe. The white sash windows and dark tiled roofs of the abodes lined a cobbled square, but even these were dwarfed by a sixty-foot statue of the Goddess Taminoth who held aloft, in her right hand, a plant t
hat signified life. At her feet, a circle of stone engraved with sacred symbols and texts provided a platform for worshippers to pray. The statue itself was diminutive next to a highly decorated and stepped trapezoid that rose into the air, the regional temple for The Brotherhood of The Wulf. A shining beacon of prayers, in the form of a beam of blue light, ascended to the heavens from the apex of the structure, it’s form and function unmistakable to any worshipper of Rindor.

  The Brotherhood still hold some religious sway in this area, Draken reasoned, and decided then to visit the temple to seek shelter. Nowhere else appeared to be receiving guests at this hour. Dark shuttered doors and windows were testament to that. Inside the temple at least he would be warm and none would bother him.

  As he crossed the square, he felt each cold cobble through the soles of his thin, sodden leather boots, and cursed that he hadn’t dressed more warmly. He thrust his wet cloak over his shoulder and strode forward.

  The oddly shaped temple loomed, and he saw carved into a grey stone, depictions of famous battles between Brotherhood soldiers and enemies of the Order. Additionally, on alternating tiers, the Gods Rindor, Maresh, and Taminoth were carved in different poses of brotherly and sisterly affection, whereas others depicted more formal settings, namely the creation of Er’ath and the various judgements of its occupants taken across all of time.

  A yellow glow beckoned him invitingly into the expansive archway that protected a large, two leaf, oak doorway from the elements. Braziers cast a warming light as he walked past two Brotherhood guards, who clicked their heels as he entered.

  Inside, it took a moment for his hearing to adjust from the cold and for his eyes to become accustomed to the brightness. Almost immediately he felt a warmth, not the usual kind gained through heat, but a sense of belonging, a feeling he had not experienced for a very long time. Perhaps he was not alone after all.