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

by Harrison Davies

  Nerves built as the dock loomed and fiercely bearded faces glared at them, the owners with weapons at the ready.

  Finally, the boat bumped into the wooden dock, and Coinin offered a weak smile and scrambled from the vessel.

  He held his hands open in submission and waited for Marrok to join him.

  Together the brothers walked slowly forward through a parallel line of soldiers, all considerably shorter than they, though twice as strong. Some growled, and others tapped spears in their impatience to fight.

  Coinin and Marrok headed towards a smartly dressed dwarf at the far end of the column. He, too, looked just as fierce as the rest, though wore no armour, just a velvet doublet and matching pants. He seemed out of place considering those who surrounded him.

  Perhaps, this is the king, Coinin thought, and prepared his greeting mentally.

  As the brothers reached the dwarf, they bent to one knee. Marrok saluted, and Coinin withdrew his sword, eliciting archers nearby to draw their bows. Unphased, he placed the sword across both hands and proffered it with a bowed head. ‘Great King Henfal, I greet you well. I am Curator Coinin Wulf, and I present my sword as a token of friendship from The Brotherhood of The Wulf. We have travelled far and seek an audience with your majesty.’

  The resplendent dwarf took a step forward and pushed Coinin’s sword down. ‘As pleasing as it is to be called King, I am no such thing. I am the Lord Regent, his highnesses right hand.’

  ‘My apologies, Lord Regent. I trust I have not offended.’

  ‘Never mind that. You say you are of The Brotherhood of The Wulf, and not Rodine?’

  ‘While it is true we arrived in a craft of Rodine origin, I assure you we come as friends. May I stand?’

  The Lord Regent waved his hand in assent and pulled at his beard. ‘We have had no dealings with The Brotherhood in many a year. How can you prove this to be true?’

  Coinin stood, as did Marrok. ‘I have aboard someone the king will recognise and perhaps be glad to meet.’

  ‘Then I shall fetch His Majesty, and we shall see. Whom will I say is aboard your vessel?’

  Coinin weighed up whether to tell the regent. ‘Tell the king, Archmage Laliala Menin, formerly Curator Menin, requests his company.’

  The Lord Regent nodded and then turned to the guard nearby. ‘Watch them carefully.’

  He strode away, his boots clacking along the wooden deck, and disappeared into a line of guards.

  Seconds later a bellow issued forth from behind the line.

  ‘What?!’

  The line of guards parted hurriedly, and an unassuming dwarf raced ahead of the line, a broad smile upon his face. ‘My friends, so good to see you. Where is she? Bring her out to me. I must see my old friend.’

  Coinin breathed out in relief and bowed to the king. ‘Your Majesty, at once.’ He turned back to face the ship and raised his left arm, the signal prearranged that would indicate all was well and that the archmage should join them ashore. He turned back to the king. ‘Archmage Menin will be but a moment. If I may introduce myself, I am Curator Coinin Wulf, and this is –’

  ‘Archmage?’ the king interrupted. ‘So, old Orodor finally dropped off the edge of the world. That is sad news indeed.’

  ‘As I was saying –’

  ‘Ah, yes of course. Please, continue.’

  Coinin smiled graciously and tightened his jaw before continuing. ‘This is my brother, General Marrok Wulf.’

  The king nodded but appeared to be lost in thought and eager to see the arrival of Menin. His interest lingered on the vessel arriving across the harbour.

  Menin stood upright within the small boat, her long white robe flowing in a warm breeze. Jericho sat beside her, his gold trimmed steel breastplate with the relief of a wolf’s paw within a sun disc upon it, shining brightly.

  Thruup rowed the small craft until it gently bumped against the dock. He steadied it against a light swell and waited as Jericho exited the craft first and assisted Menin onto the shore.

  The archmage opened her arms and smiled widely. ‘Henfal, you old dog!’ she cried, leaving convention behind.

  Jericho looked at Coinin and raised a brow. Coinin in return shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Laliala, my dear friend, let’s have less of the old, shall we?’ Henfal embraced Menin. ‘I do miss our times together. Come, I shall show you the changes to the city, and I’m sure Lerial will be pleased to see you.’

  ‘How is your dear wife?’

  ‘As beautiful as ever.’ Henfal grinned.

  Together they walked through the line of soldiers followed closely by Coinin, Marrok, Jericho and the lord regent. Henfal stopped briefly. ‘Lord Regent,’ he turned to his advisor, ‘send the troops home. It was a false alarm. My congratulations on a fast deployment.’

  The regent flourished and walked away clicking his thick fingers. ‘Return to your barracks. Friends are amongst us.’

  Menin patted the arm of the king. ‘Henfal? I’d almost forgotten in the excitement. Must my men remain aboard the ship? Would you be a dear and accommodate them?’

  ‘I will ensure they are housed adequately,’ Henfal replied. ‘Lord Regent,’ he called, ‘when you have completed your other task, ensure that the crew of the ship are fed, watered and lodged in the barracks.’

  The Regent turned red in the face and nodded. ‘As you command, Your Majesty.’

  Continuing their journey through the entrance to the city, the king stopped to mount his horse. He urged his personal guard to join him at his side.

  A beardless dwarf acceded to the king. ‘Yes, Sire?’

  ‘Bring horses for my guests.’

  Without hesitation, the guard dipped his head. ‘At once, Sire.’ He turned and raced away towards the king’s outriders who were standing by not so far away. Half a minute later he returned with the reins of four horses, two either side of him.

  Menin took the first with a smile and lithely hopped onto the back of what was effectively a pony-sized horse. Upon resting firmly in the saddle, she felt a little nervous of hurting the animal.

  Henfal guffawed at the ridiculousness of the horse’s size. ‘That’ll not do at all. As hardy as dwarfen horses are, I do not wish its spine to collapse. The sun has made its presence felt and must have known you were coming. Let us walk instead.’

  Each party dismounted their rides and handed the reins back to the king’s guard.

  ‘This way, my lady,’ Henfal said cheerfully.

  The walk was pleasant enough. City folk ventured from stores and houses to watch the king and his procession walk by. Henfal graciously waved as he passed and pointed out to his guests the improvements to the city he had made.

  ‘Over the brow of that hill yonder, I have begun building a new forge, one to rival any found on Er’ath. Inspired by your example, Laliala, I have built a vast library where our past, present and future endeavours will be recorded, and along those lines, since you afforded me much assistance many years ago, I have permitted the building of a small temple to your God, Rindor, within the city. You will need to provide a scribe to oversee it.’

  Menin placed a hand over her heart at the sweet gesture. ‘I am most humbled, Your Majesty. You honour us indeed.’

  ‘It’s the least I can do for my old friend.’

  Twenty or so minutes later, the small group arrived at the main doors to the castle. It rose several storeys high, square and functional, with crenellations that ran the full circumference. The walls were carved from a dark grey volcanic rock and stood in stark contrast to the white marble courtyard. Leaded windows, large and inviting on the upper floors, spread evenly and served not only as a light source but also as lookout posts.

  ‘You have been busy, Henfal. Almost the whole of the city bears no resemblance to what your father left. I don’t remember there being quite so much white marble when I attended your coronation.’

  ‘I took a leaf out of your book. Though, Lerial says I overdid it.’ Henfal chuckled.
/>   ‘Speaking of which,’ Menin nodded towards the castle entrance.

  ‘As I live and breathe, is that really you, Laliala Menin?’ Lerial said excitedly.

  ‘The one and the same,’ Menin replied, and accepted a warm, inviting embrace from her old friend.

  Lerial was a little taller than her husband with a proud shock of curly red hair running down her back. A braid ran across her forehead and through this a silver charm that dangled above her nose. She was born of Southern Dwarfs, and therefore her skin was darker than the pasty-faced Dwarfs of the North. Her ankle length dress of emerald green wool was tied with a knotted sash of golden thread. She wore upon her feet a pair of simple leather three-thonged sandals.

  ‘You haven’t changed one jot,’ Menin complimented.

  ‘That makes two of us. But look at you all, you appear all done in. Bring your friends inside.’ Lerial scolded Henfal and turned back to Laliala. ‘Food and rest first. The introductions can come later, I think.’

  The main entrance of massive, iron-studded oak creaked and opened directly onto the throne room. Lerial wasted no time and whisked them from the hall and through an archway concealed behind the ash throne.

  She removed an iron key from a purse strapped to her sash and unlocked a door on the far side of the arch. Silently, the door opened upon her push, and she waved the friends through.

  A long hallway, lit with torches either side, afforded enough illumination to ponder, as they journeyed, a series of oil paintings hung from the walls. Most appeared to resemble Henfal and Lerial, and others, dark and oppressive, depicted hard times in the mines of The Black Shiel Mountains.

  ‘This way, almost there,’ said Lerial cheerfully.

  No sooner had she said this, a quick turn left, and the visitors found themselves in luxurious living quarters belonging to the king and his queen.

  The apartments had a distinct female touch about them. The furnishings were soft and luxurious, considerably more inviting than the straw mattresses or wooden stools found aboard the galleon.

  A fire warmed the room from its hearth set into the far end of the chamber. Either side, two suits of plate armour silently watched the newcomers.

  Dark wood panelling ran from floor to ceiling the entirety of the room. If it had not been for the high windows, the room would have been very gloomy indeed.

  ‘Please, be seated. I shall fetch some wine.’ Henfal gestured to two large textile couches opposite each other and facing into the room.

  The room-length rug, patterned in concentric circles, was soft underfoot and bisected the space.

  Menin and Jericho sat to the left and Coinin and Marrok to the right. Lerial joined her husband at a large, wooden cabinet where she assisted in pouring drinks for the guests. Silver goblets of wine were placed upon a tray, which Lerial carried to a short table situated between the couches. Once there, she offered a goblet of deep burgundy wine to each of the guests. ‘I believe you will find this particular vintage to your taste,’ she said.

  Menin took a sip of the beverage and smiled. ‘Heavenly. If I’m not mistaken, this is one of Master Ignatius’s finest vintages.’

  ‘We could never get anything by you.’ Henfal chuckled.

  He wandered over to the fireplace and warmed himself while sipping at his drink. ‘Laliala, I get the distinct impression yours is not a social call, and I will understand if you wish to rest and eat before you tell your tale. But the truth be known, I’m a nosey old soul.’

  Menin laughed heartily. ‘Never has a truer word been said. I’ll tell all if Lerial, here, brings us vitals. It wouldn’t hurt to eat and talk.’

  ❖

  Two hours of feasting, laughing and the telling of an extraordinary tale later, Henfal and Lerial sat back, gobsmacked that such events could have transpired.

  ‘You certainly know how to spin a yarn, Laliala.’ Henfal raised a brow. ‘You still haven’t divulged what brought you here.’

  ‘We thought,’ began Coinin, ‘we would save the best for last.’

  ‘So, there really is more?’

  As comfy as the couches were, Menin stood and stretched her legs a little. ‘Henfal, have I ever given you any sign to mistrust me?’

  Henfal cocked his head and frowned. ‘No, of course not. Do I have reason to be concerned?’

  ‘I don’t believe so. I need some direct help from you. The warlock, Lordich, we told you about is thought to be located in the Black Shiel Citadel on the Southern border to your kingdom.’

  Henfal nodded grimly. ‘I know the citadel well. I’m just not sure how it is I can be of help.’

  ‘The only way to stop this madman is to take the battle to him and finish him once and for all. I need … or, more rightly, the curator needs your assistance.’

  Coinin coughed and rubbed his stubbly face. ‘My Lord, I intend to track Lordich down and exact justice upon him, and as such, I need two things. Permission to cross your kingdom and, if at all possible, the use of your warrior army to storm the citadel.’

  Henfal nearly choked on his drink and spluttered red wine across the floor. ‘Curator Wulf, you ask of me so much. The citadel you speak of lies deep within the mountain with only a treacherous pass to access it. There, a man who studies something called science, a human by the name of Tort, took residence after making supplication to my grandfather. He built the citadel as an observatory to the stars, citing it as the most worthy place to watch the planets and perform his experiments. He has lived there in peace ever since, never causing harm.’ Henfal paused and looked conflicted. ‘You ask me to betray the trust Tort placed in my grandfather, without proof and only words.’

  Menin crossed the rug and sat next to Henfal. She looked him deep in the eye. ‘Do you remember the Pass of Na, how I saved you from certain death? I never asked for anything in return and, in fact, The Brotherhood has come to your aid on several occasions, and yet we ask nothing of you. If you insist on proof, all I can give is myself and my word. Should that fail to be sufficient, then I offer myself willingly to be judged by your court and to be sentenced accordingly if what I say is false.’

  Coinin stood. ‘I must object, m’lady.’

  ‘Curator, please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is,’ Menin urged. ‘I will remain here under Lord Henfal’s charge until the return of your troops, successful or not.’

  Lerial looked at her husband pleadingly. ‘You cannot deny she holds a convincing argument. You must not even entertain the thought of keeping her captive, it would be –’

  Henfal stood with a roar and threw his goblet clear across the room, where it crashed into the wall and sent wine flying in all directions. ‘Never tell me, your King, what I must do. I am able to keep my own counsel. Do you hear me?’

  Lerial dropped to her knees and bowed deeply. ‘Forgive me, my Lord. I would never … I grew with excitement to see our old friend –’

  Coinin had sat down during the altercation. He felt uncomfortable and tried not to stare. ‘Lord Henfal, if I may interrupt?’

  The dwarf chieftain harrumphed and stormed over to the drinks cabinet. ‘Feel free, everyone seems to have things to say.’

  ‘Thank you, Sire. I am of humble stock, unlike yourself, and have seen many wondrous things. Are you not at all concerned with the prophecy surrounding Er’ath?’

  The king returned with a new goblet of wine. ‘My people possess our own beliefs. Why would I choose to believe that a human called Aduramis predicted catastrophic events so far into the future?’

  ‘I do not ask that you abandon your beliefs, merely consider the possibility that some truths exist beyond your own understanding. Can you reasonably risk all that you know and love by inaction?’

  Henfal gave Coinin a curious look. He paced in thought. This boy speaks sense. If I remain blind to even the remote possibility that this fantasy tale has any merit, I do my people a disservice by not acting upon the information presented to me. And yet, if I acknowledge there is truth to this ta
le, would this mean in the eyes of my people that I admit to the possibility of our gods being nought but liars?

  Henfal sighed and shook his head to clear his thoughts. ‘I have weighed your argument, and I do agree to assist you, but with one bargain. Not one word of your true intent is to pass your lips to my warriors, and they will not bear the armour or insignia of my people. I will also stress that your hunt is for a traitor to your kind and in no way does this constitute that I believe in your gods.’

  Coinin stood and offered a hand to Henfal to seal the deal. ‘And Archmage Menin?’

  Henfal wrapped an arm around Lerial. ‘There is not a force on Er’ath that would see me hold my dearest of friends captive. If you need my help, I will gladly give it.’

  ‘Then I think this calls for a celebration.’ Lerial clapped.

  ‘Kind King, I thank you for your assistance. Your help will not be forgotten, but there are a few personal matters I must attend to. Perhaps I may join you later?’

  Henfal graciously took Coinin’s outstretched hand and shook it heartily. ‘By all means, my boy. Lerial, will you escort our guest from the castle?’

  ‘At once, my Lord.’

  ‘Is everything good?’ Marrok asked as Coinin and Lerial departed.

  ‘Everything is fine. Please, enjoy yourselves.’

  Lerial led Coinin on a familiar route from the living quarters and through the castle, before exiting the throne room into the courtyard. There she called for a guard.

  A young, blue cloaked guard, slightly taller than the average dwarf, jogged over to the pair and removed his steel helmet, which he clamped under his arm. ‘My Queen?’ He saluted.

  ‘Lieutenant, escort our guest to wherever he wishes to go. Whatever he needs, see to it and when he’s ready to return, ensure that he is not waylaid.’

  ‘Yes, M’lady.’

  ‘Coinin, I wish you well.’

  ‘Likewise, Your Highness.’

  Coinin watched the queen re-enter the castle and turned to the guard. ‘I’m Coinin, and you are?’