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

by Harrison Davies

  Coinin felt the orc’s large green hand grasp his arm and he tore it away. He did not deserve affection. He had killed a man with his own hand, not with magic, just brutal cold steel as his weapon. It sickened him, and he needed to escape.

  Meone silently joined them and shook Coinin, who was staring into the distance blankly. ‘Curator, we must move.’

  He, at first, did not hear her, and it was only after she struck him about the face that he returned to reality. ‘What did you do that for?’ he scowled, and rubbed his reddening cheek.

  ‘We cannot sit here moping. You have killed a man, yes, but we have a mission to complete.’

  ‘She is right, Coinin. We must finish, and you may ask your God for forgiveness when the task is done.’

  Coinin yelled into the air, a cry of rage and despair, and motioned forward. They were right, of course. They were so close to the finish line, and Lordich’s whereabouts awaited them.

  He led the way and came to the end of the corridor where an ornately decorated double door of oak barred the way.

  ‘Len’i?’ Coinin invited.

  The giant orc took the hint and set his shoulder. He charged the door like a flesh and blood battering ram and the hallway shook. The door itself held steady with only a slight sign of shifting. Len’i cocked his eyebrow and grunted. ‘This shall not better me.’ He repeatedly struck, until finally, they heard wood crack on the far side of the door.

  ‘Good work, Len’i,’ Coinin praised, and stepped forward. He pushed the door’s halves, and they parted with a creak. A thick wooden batten fell to the floor, splintered in two, and the small group cautiously entered the room.

  ❖

  Marrok dived left, avoiding the talons of a winged creature. Oddly, this creature resembled both lion and eagle as one animal. Huge, and sporting two heads, the creature was a formidable opponent, mercilessly slashing, diving, and snapping with its beak.

  Jericho found himself pinned down and struck out at a second creature of similar size and appearance. This particular beast seemed to be out of control, choosing whomever it wished to attack. It had already horrifically decapitated one of its handlers and now focussed its attention on Jericho.

  Fortunately, the general and several men had taken refuge inside a tunnel that led under the main entrance stairway. The monster stretched and reached inside, attempting to slash or grab its quarry by any means, alternating between squeezing one of its heads inside and snapping at the men inside who were jabbing at it with swords.

  Private Scroggins yelled above the din. ‘Sir, there is a door over here.’

  Jericho snapped his head up to look. ‘Show me.’ He sidestepped his men, hope high in his heart that Scroggins had secured them a way out of their current predicament.

  An unearthly scream followed by a wrenching sound interrupted his progress and Jericho turned to see two halves of one of his troop tossed aside by the monster.

  Jericho yelled fury and spat on the ground. ‘By all that is good, that creature will not see this day end. Keep it at bay, damn you.’

  His remaining men formed a shield barrier and took many blows as the gryphon, its blood lust high, tried to find a weakness in the blockade.

  Jericho joined Scroggins, who sported a self-satisfied grin. He had indeed figured out a way of escape, by way of a small doorway, almost hidden from view in the dark recesses of an alcove within the tunnel.

  The small wooden door was covered in a mossy growth, and after scraping away much of it, the door began to give a little.

  ‘Put your shoulder into it, Scroggins,’ Jericho ordered.

  Scroggins charged at the door, and he really had not needed to as it yielded with a satisfying crack and the young soldier found himself sprawling into the darkness of a room beyond. ‘I’m in, Sir.’

  Jericho rolled his eyes at the obviousness of Scroggins’ statement. ‘Well done, now get up and find me an exit. We’re right behind you.’

  Scroggins clambered up from the floor and dusted himself off. He peered into the darkness, wishing he had some light, and stumbled forward, where his foot kicked something metal. He reached down and to his relief retrieved an oil lamp, full by the feel of it.

  He withdrew a flint and striker from his belt kit, and Jericho led his men inside their new sanctuary just as Scroggins managed to light his lamp.

  It was obvious that they had entered a small storeroom laden with rotting boxes of goods and old furniture, but more importantly, ahead lay another door. Maybe this would lead them to safety.

  Wasting no time, Jericho clicked his fingers and motioned to the doorway. Two sturdy men strode forward, deposited their shields at the sides of the door and tried it.

  Jericho smiled, not believing his luck. The door was open. He hushed for silence. ‘Whatever is beyond that door, show no mercy and take no prisoners. We not only have those beasts to deal with. Move out.’

  Collecting their shields and re-joining the troop, the soldiers piled up the stairway beyond the door at a trot. At the top, they exited into the rear of the main hallway. Ahead of them, two giant cages stood empty at the palace entrance doors, and several guards stood watching the events outside, cheering, oblivious to the new arrivals.

  Jericho had several men at his side and feared for the safety of those left outside, barely a handful, or worse. He raised his sword and swung it downwards as a sign that his men should advance.

  Without a word, and as silently as they could, the troop raced forward and struck down all who stood in their way. Thankfully, most of the garrison found themselves trapped in the guard tower, unwilling to advance down the ladder for fear of the monstrous flying guard dogs in the courtyard below.

  The guard tower soldiers closely matched his own troops in number, and that gave them a chance of defeating them in close quarters.

  After quickly dispatching the enemy, Jericho and four others marched forward, while one soldier was left to tend to the wounded. Even in this desperate time, Jericho upheld the Order’s moral code of conduct.

  He stopped at the cages barring his way to the outside and looked for his men trapped in the courtyard. To his relief, they had sheltered in one of the stables on the far side of the grounds.

  Thinking quickly, he formed a plan. ‘We’ve got to get these beasts trapped. Scroggins and Wahid, hop up onto the cage and be ready to drop the doors on my order. You’ll find a switch of some kind up there.’

  Scroggins looked upwards through the cage bars and noticed that an iron sheet ran the full length of the cage, protecting anyone who stood there. ‘How do you know, Sir?’

  ‘It’s a hunch, now move it.’

  Scroggins saluted and climbed a wooden ladder laid against the cage and disappeared over the top and out of view. He returned moments later and called down. ‘You are right, Sir, there is a switch. It looks as if the doors will slam shut.’

  ‘Good work. Man that switch.’

  Scroggins disappeared alongside Wahid and awaited the order.

  Jericho studied the bars of the cage and noted them to be good and reliable. He had already planned his next steps and also the risk he was about to take. He stepped aside and removed his clothing. The two remaining soldiers looked at him oddly, until he barked at them. ‘Protect Scroggins and Wahid at all costs. You hear?’

  They nodded and stood underneath the ladder, weapons at the ready.

  Naked and cold, Jericho summoned all his strength to transform. He had only used his unique skill half a dozen times before and although transforming into a jet-black leopard sapped his strength, he found the whole process easier with each try.

  His frame shrunk and fur sprouted from all parts of him. His limbs elongated and adjusted alignment, though not painfully, until there stood a proud and silken-bodied form of a leopard.

  His yellow eyes flicked around, and he padded forward, offering a low growl of acknowledgement to his guard.

  Each looked at one another wordlessly and nodded at their commander with an att
empt at a smile.

  Jericho squeezed effortlessly through the cage bars and surveyed the scene before him from the top of the palace stairs.

  To his right, one of the giant gryphons was engrossed in trying to enter the tunnel where Jericho and his men had taken refuge, and the other was still attacking the stables with an extreme furiosity.

  Jericho took a deep breath and padded silently, looking down upon the two-headed monster below. He hissed and growled to attract its attention, and it worked. One of the beady-eyed heads flicked up and spotted him. It turned its head sideways and eyed him keenly. The other head joined the first, and even though Jericho could not understand them as they squawked and clicked beaks together, he knew that they were deciding whether or not he was worth the trouble.

  After a moment that question was answered as the two-headed creature flapped its gigantic wings and rose into the air with a terrifying scream.

  Jericho, with four mighty leopard legs, ran as fast as his appendages would allow. Like a black streak of wind, he raced around the courtyard in circles, pursued by the creature. Its friend was thankfully oblivious and had not noticed the commotion; it was far too busy in its own endeavours.

  Jericho knew that he had speed, but his stamina would wane quickly, so with a sharp turn he bolted towards the stairs, avoiding sharp talons attempting to grasp him. The wing beats of the animal thrummed above him and sent powerful downdrafts of air that kicked up choking clouds of dust.

  He dodged and weaved to the annoyance of his pursuer, the screams testament to that fact.

  At full tilt, he raced up the steps and piled into the cage. Praying with all his heart, he squeezed between the bars on the far side of the cage, thanks to his sleek leopard form, and heard a satisfying crunch and ding of metal. Turning, he saw that the creature had followed him, as he had hoped, into the cage and stunned itself momentarily. However, all too soon it began to stir and threaten to back out of the cage.

  Jericho partially transformed to the amusement of the two soldiers he had left to guard Scroggins and Wahid. Jericho’s human head appeared at the end of a long, slender leopard neck and he called out in desperation. ‘Scroggins, drop the door!’

  Almost instantly, there was a loud mechanical grinding sound, and the door slammed shut with a clang. He heard heavy bolts being driven home and he sank to the ground, exhausted.

  The trapped animal screamed and thrashed about in its prison, unhappy to be once again captive. The cage rocked, rattled, and threatened to unseat Scroggins and Wahid.

  ‘Come down from there,’ Jericho called weakly. He felt drained; the transformation had sent his body into shock. He had not had a reaction to shape shifting like this before.

  Scroggins clambered down the ladder, followed by Wahid, and raced to Jericho’s aid. ‘Sir, are you well? What can I do?’ he said, turning his eyes from his superior’s nakedness.

  ‘I just need a few minutes. There’s still one of those things out there.’

  ‘Wahid, bring the general his cloak.’

  The young soldier nodded and quickly raced to where Jericho had dropped his clothing.

  ❖

  Marrok had not had a good time of it. After diving out of range of the giant two-headed monster, he and a handful of others had darted for the relative safety of the stables.

  Inside, he knew instantly that the roof of the building would not hold. Certainly, not with the creature attempting to rip it off to get at the occupants inside. With little time to ponder an escape, he did the only logical thing. He began to tack a horse.

  ‘What are you doing, General?’ he was asked.

  ‘Well, I’m not staying here to be eaten. Perhaps I can draw it away, and you can get to safety.’

  The voice stepped forward and poked him in the chest. ‘Impossible. If you go, I go.’

  Aniol stood there, all spit and fire, hands on hips and a pout to her lips.

  ‘Where did you come from?’ Marrok demanded.

  ‘Curator Wulf sent me to watch over you; he has Len’i to guard him,’ Aniol spat the name and looked not too pleased.

  Despite the urgency of the situation, Marrok chuckled. ‘If you want to die at the hands of a winged beast, you best tack a horse. Just make it fast.’

  ‘Sir.’ Aniol grinned. She may not be caring for her charge, but Marrok was the next best thing.

  Marrok and Aniol mounted their horses minutes later and turned to face the door.

  ‘I do not leave you lightly. Do what you can to stay safe and head for the boats. Farewell, and if I should die, tell my brother that he is one of the bravest men I know and he will make it without me.’

  Without a further word, Marrok eyed the door to the stable and waited for a clear path. With a cry, he kicked his heels into the horse’s side, and it raced forward. Aniol followed a moment later, and they both ducked as they exited the stable. The horses’ hooves skittered on wet cobbles and Aniol nearly found herself unseated. Yanking the reins, the pair disappeared under the canopy surrounding the courtyard.

  The clack of horses’ hooves attracted one of the creature’s heads, and with barely the blink of an eye it was in pursuit. Thankfully, at this stage, it had not taken flight and slipped from the roof where it found trouble gaining ground on the wet cobblestones of the courtyard. It screeched in excitement and snapped at the heels of Aniol’s horse.

  She spurred the horse onward and soon both she and Marrok had exited the palace and were free to race at full speed.

  Marrok knew they were sitting ducks if they stayed in a straight line and hoped the flying beast would not catch up until they had exited the long walkway to the palace and could head into the city streets.

  An angry cry behind him saw him turning to see that the gryphon had scrambled to the top of the entrance tower and beat its wings, as if unfamiliar with them.

  All of a sudden, it took flight with as much grace as a rock falling from a cliff. Which is indeed what happened. It fell to the ground heavily and was stunned for a moment. It shook its giant heads and recovered from its fall. Beating its wings once more, it took flight tentatively, the familiarity of the sensation returning, and just as Marrok and Aniol reached the end of the walkway, it took flight in great loops.

  ‘Break right, Aniol!’ Marrok yelled back to her and guided his horse in the same direction.

  They hurtled along the street, bypassing a tram, and turned left. After another short run they turned into an avenue lined with oak trees. Most of the trees bore full foliage, and this would offer the riders a place to hide.

  Marrok reined in the horse under the tallest of them and dismounted. He patted his ride, a black, silken mare, strong, powerful and panting heavily, its eyes bulging from exertion and fear.

  Aniol opted to remain seated and looked to the skies. They were safe for the moment.

  Marrok glanced about him and saw that several residents were gawping at him from behind curtained windows and the apparent safety of their homes.

  Had he not taken his eyes off the heavens he would have seen their terrifying enemy streak from the sky and whisk Aniol and her horse into the air. Powerful talons gripped and sliced into the animal’s stomach. Both rider and horse screamed in terror.

  Marrok turned at the sound. ‘Aniol, please hold on, I’ll find a way –’ But he knew it was useless, she was already out of earshot.

  Venting his frustration at the air, he climbed on his horse’s back and turned her around. A quick look skyward saw the gryphon, complete with horse and Aniol holding on for dear life, not too far away. He kicked his heels and raced after his quarry. He would do what he could to help Aniol but had no idea what to do to save her.

  Several city dwellers dived out of his way as he thundered along the street. Fortunately, the weight of the horse prevented the gryphon from making much headway.

  Aniol’s breathing was panicked, and she was unfocused, as she lay trapped between the horse and the gryphon’s giant talons. The giant creature had just passed o
ver the walkway leading to the palace and was heading out over the lake. Powerful wingbeats thrummed the air and sent a wake behind the animal as it skirted low over the water.

  The creature let out a sudden cry of triumph that brought Aniol out of her shock. Her instinct was to scream, but she fought back the urge, not wishing to make her presence known. It was likely that the gryphon was merely after a meal consisting of horsemeat.

  She wriggled and twisted, attempting to squeeze her way out from between the leather saddle, but after a minute gave up. Aniol was firmly lodged with only a single arm free that flapped uselessly in the breeze.

  Though not all that useless as she had first thought as her hand brushed the top of her boot. Inspiration hit her, and she delved into the thick leather footwear and withdrew a long, thin knife. This was her one chance of escape, and she was seizing it. Rather than stabbing at the animal with what would surely feel like a mere pinprick, she instead felt around for the leather strapping holding the saddle to the horse.

  Finding it, she slipped the knife between the strap and the horse and began to saw.

  After a minute of hard work and sweating profusely, her world gave way, and with it, her heart as it seemed to impact the back of her throat.

  Both horse and rider fell with terrified screams and plummeted into the icy lake. The water engulfed them. With pitiless waves crashing over her, Aniol sank into the blackness, weighed down by her clothing and boots, and she clawed fruitlessly at the fast disappearing light.

  Marrok yelled in sheer frustration as he witnessed a small black dot fall from the gryphon’s grasp and crash into the water. If that had been Aniol who had fallen, he knew there would be little hope of survival. He hung his head low. Aniol was lost, and he had the terrible task of telling Coinin.