‘Leech, at your service. Where is it you wish to go, Sir?’
‘Do you know where my ship’s crew are being housed?’
Leech nodded. ‘I do, Sir. The crew is boarded at the guard barracks.’
‘Then let’s go.’ Coinin gestured. ‘Lead the way.’
The pair walked slowly through the grounds of the castle and Coinin listened as Leech explained some of the histories of the city. ‘It was the great God, Finir who founded the dwarf lands from fire and ice and set upon the first dwarf king one task: To rule fairly and honestly. We were a nomadic people at that time. Sadly, two centuries into King Dewil’s reign, he was struck with an unexplained illness. He died within hours, and it was left to his son, Dawil to rule. Only, his son forgot the one rule and oversaw his people with a greedy heart, and in turn, this greed for gold found in the Black Shiel Mountains turned to suspicion and paranoia that others were trying to steal his wealth. He locked down the mines and under servitude forced his people to work there relentlessly. Many died and then began a rebellion. Eventually, the rebels led by Zibo defeated Dawil in battle and his head was placed upon a spike as a warning to all. Zibo’s reign returned the land back to one of peace, agriculture and export, with appropriate levels of mining for gold and coal. As a sign of change, he built this grand city far from Black Shiel, and we have called this home ever since.’ Leech stopped before a red brick archway. ‘We have arrived at the barracks, Sir. Please go on inside. I shall wait here for you.’
‘Thank you, Leech, for the fascinating history lesson.’
Leech smiled and positioned himself against the wall to wait.
Coinin wandered through the archway into a smaller courtyard, lined with brick tiles. The court held four sides to it and offered some shade from the elements using a raised straw roof.
Ahead of him, a large opening led into the midst of the barracks where several doorways led off from the main entrance. At the end of the hallway, he saw an old friend and smiled, then waved. ‘Major Quindil, where is everyone?’
‘Ah, Curator, so good to see you. We were a little worried. They are through here,’ he said, saluting.
‘As you can see I am perfectly fine. How about you and the others?’
‘We have been taken care of, fed and watered as you’d expect, but I think you should visit with Aniol.’
‘What is wrong?’
‘I think Axl is worsening. She has been very weepy.’
Coinin felt guilt at having left Aniol alone at her time of need. She had given her all to him since day one, and now she was the one in need. ‘Take me to her.’
Together they walked through a dirty bunk room lined with wooden beds, caskets at the foot of each. Several beds were occupied by sleeping Brotherhood soldiers, some above rough woollen covers and others comfortably covered. They practically tiptoed through the room and managed not to wake everyone despite the creaking of bare floorboards. They exited into a dining area, where two long tables lined with wooden benches dominated the room. The room was empty and appeared to have recently been used as evidenced by a series of carved bowls sat dirty yet empty along the tables. Bowls of fruit, water jars and cutlery lay unused upon a long side cabinet, and other than a brazier warming the room, the room was sparse.
Beyond, a second bunk room lay empty, and Quindil led Coinin off this to a small side room, where he knocked and opened the door. ‘She’s inside.’
‘Thank you.’
Coinin entered the small rectangular room. The drapes were drawn, and only a small crack between the two halves permitted a stream of light into the room. The air smelled foul, and there was the sound of rattling breath. From the poor illumination, he saw a shape slumped over a bed in the far corner of the room. He strode to the drapes and drew them open.
Aniol was sat upon a small stool and laid across a prone Axl, who in turn was tucked under a grey woollen blanket.
Coinin crossed the room and placed his hand upon Aniol’s shoulder. ‘Hey, sleepy one, wake up.’
Her eyes flickered, and Aniol stirred. A moment later, red eyes blinked open and it took a moment for her to realise that Coinin was staring directly at her with a look of concern on his face.
Aniol jumped to her feet and unashamedly embraced Coinin. Shocked at first, he stood stock still, and feeling her need he returned the embrace. As he did so, she shook and sobbed quietly. ‘He’s dying.’
Coinin was unsure how to respond and so didn’t. Instead, he held her tighter.
How long they held each other for comfort, he had no idea. They parted only when Axl coughed and opened his eyes. He was exceptionally pale, dark circles formed around his eyes and his lips were severely cracked. Weakly, he raised a hand and beckoned for Coinin to join him. Letting Aniol go, he sat on the edge of the bed and leant in.
Axl lifted his head slightly and said something not audible enough to hear, so Coinin put his ear to the sick man’s mouth.
After a moment, Coinin stood and took the young man’s hand. ‘I promise,’ he said tearfully with a nod.
Axl lay back satisfied and smiled before all that he was left his eyes like a light that was suddenly extinguished. His final breath signified that he was gone. His mouth gaped, and his pupils dilated alongside a sigh of evacuating air.
Aniol screamed and threw herself upon the lifeless Axl and cried in great sobs.
Coinin placed a hand over his mouth, feeling sick, and backed away slightly. Axl was so young to die, and now this new death weighed heavily upon Coinin’s heart. If Axl had not been coaxed from his rooms beneath the Golden Temple, he would be alive now. The question remained, why had Axl become ill so quickly? It was true four other soldiers had reported with similar symptoms but had improved within a few days. Axl had not.
Aniol stood and joined Coinin, seeking solace. She placed her head against his breast. After several moments she looked him in the eye. ‘What did he say?’
Coinin grimaced. ‘He said, “above all else, take care of Aniol for me, nothing else matters”.’
The pair returned to the bed and sat with Axl. Coinin took Axl’s hand to place it beneath the covers and from nowhere a white light blinded him, and the sensation of a white-hot poker being thrust through his brain enveloped him. He screamed in agony and fell to his knees.
Shadowy images floated before him, though nothing he could recognise. ‘Still, you toil with the illusion you can defeat me,’ a deep thunderous voice mocked. Instantly, Coinin knew the individual who owned it. Mort, or Death, both one and the same to him.
‘Mort, what is the meaning of this? Why do you pursue me like this in my hour of grief?’ Coinin demanded.
Still, the white nothingness intermingled with shadows remained, as did echoey voices, calling his name.
‘Hear that? That is death calling to you, boy. Wherever you go death will follow, and you only have yourself to thank for that.’
‘What did you do to Axl!’ Coinin screamed.
‘His mind was weak, and unlike our last encounter, he was unable to rid me from his mind. I was able to destroy him from the inside. I tried several others, with varying success, but none as fruitful as Axl.’
‘Why are you doing this?’
Mort whispered menacingly into his left ear, which gave Coinin a start. ‘I’m going to kill you all one by one with such satisfaction. I just needed to find an effective way in.’
‘You failed before, with several of my men. What makes you think you will succeed again?’
‘Axl was my latest attempt, and I succeeded. Now, I can repeat this with success whenever I choose.’
‘Then why don’t you do it? Go on, do it now, get it over and done with,’ Coinin yelled. ‘Coward.’
‘Impatience does not become you, little one. Your comrade’s deaths will be at the hour of my choosing and when you least expect it.’
Coinin lashed out but came up empty handed. ‘I’ll kill you,’ he cried.
Mort mocked him with laughter. ‘You will fail.
I am going to enjoy your pain. You shall witness the deaths of all those you love, and then I shall finish with you.’
Coinin felt himself spinning, as if falling, and the next minute the whiteness had vanished to be replaced with the blackness of his closed eyelids as he hit the floorboards, once again in the small room with Aniol and Axl.
‘Coinin, what is it?’ Aniol asked, terrified, and joined him on the floor.
He trembled, the pain in his head slowly subsiding. It was several minutes before he was able to speak properly. Aniol had propped him up against the bed and waited.
‘Aniol, I am so sorry. I know why … why Axl died.’ Coinin looked at her morosely. ‘If only I had been strong enough in the Temple to have finished him once and for all, he would never have killed Axl.’
Aniol looked at him worriedly. Was he, too, sickening? ‘Coinin, what are you saying? I don’t understand.’
A tear of pain mixed with sorrow rolled down his cheek. ‘Mort killed Axl. He plans to make me suffer by killing all those around me, one by one.’
Aniol gasped and sat back heavily on her rear. ‘We need to stop this monster.’
‘I intend to.’ Coinin scowled.
RELIEF AND GRIEF
Menin clucked and sighed. Before her, Brotherhood troops sat cross-legged upon the cold brick tiles of the barracks’ courtyard. ‘How many times do I have to teach you this? The only effective way to fight Death is to close your mind. Permit nothing through. Shut it tighter than a barn door. You need to concentrate, and the moment you sense an invasion into your mind, close the door.’
She paced the courtyard, huffing and puffing every few minutes as she attempted to invade the mind of everyone in turn. ‘Do not be fooled, Death is a hundredfold stronger than me. I will be back shortly, and I expect you all to have mastered occlumency. Keep at it.’
With a swish of her robes, she stormed from the courtyard, closely followed by Jericho and Zaruun.
Once out of earshot she vented her frustration. ‘Why do these fools not realise what is at stake? If Death takes them, we have lost the battle.
‘It’s only been three weeks, give them time,’ Jericho reminded.
‘We do not have time, Dareth. The curator sets off for the citadel tomorrow.’
‘Is he ready?’
‘Ready?’
‘His own studies. You have spent nearly every waking hour with him in intense magical study. Is he ready to go it alone, and be self-reliant?’
Menin stopped pacing, a look of anguish on her face. ‘Dareth, if he is not, then I am sending Coinin to an almost certain death.’
‘That cannot happen, the Prophecy –’
‘Prophecies will always be interpreted differently to each reader,’ Menin said.
‘What does that mean?’
‘One must not put our faith in prophecies. They are written by a man after all, and open to corruption.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m speaking as an old friend, forget I said anything.’ Menin stood and walked away with a thunderous look.
Zaruun followed at a discreet distance, though he did turn to face his general and mouthed, ‘What did you do?’
Jericho shrugged and raised his brow and mouthed in return, ‘I don’t know.’ He watched the pair head over the brow of a small hill and disappear from sight soon thereafter. He then headed further into the grounds of the castle, confused by Menin’s outburst. ‘So unlike her,’ he muttered.
After a short journey he found Coinin amid a small copse of beech trees, sitting on a stump of one such tree, his eyes closed, focussing on the elemental forces the planet provided him as a wizard in training. Birds chirped nearby, and a shaft of light warmed the small opening in the trees.
Archmage Menin had spent a considerable amount of time preparing him for what lay ahead, and he had learned so many new skills that his head swam. The only way to relax with so much information was through meditation and the act of absorbing his lessons.
Some of the spells and incantations Menin had taught him downright scared him, while others excited him. She had glossed over the spells designed to kill and asked him to focus on those that could be used to destroy, protect and disable.
Repetitious repetition was the order of the day and not once did Coinin become tired of repeating spells and casting them. He had a destiny to fulfil alongside Marrok, and he was going to give it his all to succeed.
‘Curator Wulf, may I interrupt your training?’ Jericho said quietly from behind the young man.
Coinin opened his eyes slightly. ‘What is it, General?’
Jericho stepped into the light of the sun and kneeled before Coinin. ‘I am making final preparations for your journey to the citadel. Might I ask if there is anything else you require before tomorrow?’
Coinin considered his response with closed eyes. ‘I believe that you have seen to every last detail with General Wulf. Therefore, the only thing I require is your presence at Axl’s funeral. The prerequisite three weeks has arrived and we are now permitted to inter him. I want all to pay their respects.’
‘Splendid. The service will commence at three this afternoon.’
‘Was there anything else, General?’
‘Not at this time.’
‘You are dismissed. I have a particularly difficult spell to master, one I’m sure we will need if we are to take the citadel.’
‘Farewell, Curator.’ Jericho rose and proceeded to walk away. He considered returning and declaring his concerns that he felt Coinin not ready for such a large undertaking of storming the fortified mountain castle, but a sudden memory entered his mind in place of his doubts. Coinin, young and untrained not so long ago, was able to take down a fully grown giant. If he could do that, surely he has the ability to do so much more, considering his training in the magic arts. His thoughts swayed, and he continued on his way.
Coinin was visualising a stone wall, high and impassible that circled him, entrapping him. Menin had taught him to visualise a hole in the wall, not how to create a hole. He had been trying this magic for three days now and with only one small success. He was becoming frustrated and stood. The sun stung his eyes as he opened them and his legs ached from having sat for so long. He decided to wander the castle grounds for a while, perhaps find a walled section to give him inspiration, and then he remembered that the king was slowly demolishing the city and he’d seen many old buildings he could practice on.
Having rubbed life back into his legs, he set off at a great pace. To him, this was the final piece in his training. He would still be a novice by others standards, but with the advanced knowledge given to him, he would possess enough skill to fulfil his duties to the highest degree.
The sun warmed his back as he walked, and he listened to the sounds of the city beyond the wall grow louder as he grew closer to the exit. The dewy grass underfoot felt soft and bouncy and made the walk a pleasure, though all too soon that sensation ended as he was required to walk along a hard-cobbled road leading up to the gatehouse.
Two guards armed with sharp spears and wearing dragon scale armour stood to attention as he approached and simultaneously crossed the spears to bar the exit.
‘In the name of the King, all who leave the castle must give just cause,’ the guard to the left said with little sign that he had spoken, his ample grey beard covered his lips to such a degree.
Coinin thought quickly and after a few seconds came up empty. ‘I have no good reason. I wish to see the old city before I leave tomorrow,’ he lied.
The guard looked him up and down before standing easy and swinging his spear vertical. His companion followed suit. ‘Enjoy your trip, Sir. Please do be careful near the zones marked to be torn down. They are not suitable for men to visit. There is a real danger of collapse and injury.’
Coinin nodded, grateful for the advice. ‘Thank you, I shall heed your guidance.’
The guard nodded and turned to open a small access door inset into the giant oak doors
. With only a slight creak of hinges the door smoothly opened.
Stepping from the relative safety of the castle into an unknown city full of dwarfs was a little concerning to him. He worried over how they would perceive him, and if they would be welcoming.
He needn’t have worried. No sooner had he reached the first of the dwellings, a group of dwarven children began to follow him, chattering excitedly and trying to feel his robes. The luxuriousness, unlike their own rough woollen clothing, fascinated them.
‘Come and play, mister, we have a bladder and no catcher,’ one pale-faced youth with yellowing teeth begged. He held in his hands a brown leather orb filled with air.
The children pulled and pushed at him, all the while demanding his company.
Finally, Coinin acquiesced and threw his hands in the air. ‘Fine, I give in, I will play your game. Though I do not know the rules.’
‘We’ll show you, mister,’ a second dwarf child said. ‘Follow us.’
Off at a fair rate of knots, the children ran, and Coinin found he could easily keep up thanks to his longer legs. As he moved, he began to feel the children’s excitement rub off on him, and he found himself laughing along with them.
Soon, they had reached a broad field of short grass. Coinin saw that the likely reason for its length was a herd of sheep lazily grazing at one side of the field.
Either side of the greenery, two poles sat roughly twenty hand spans apart. Several of the children ran onto the field and began to toss the leather orb between themselves.
Coinin, a little out of breath, kneeled before the young dwarf. ‘What are the rules of this game?’
The dwarf smiled and flashed his yellow teeth again. He clapped his hands knowingly. ‘The name’s Albo an’ the rules is simple. We’s split into two sides. We start in the middle, and you’s got to get the leather from one end of the field to the other usin’ whatever you’s like. Kicking, throwing, charging. Gots to go the right way, though, it’s bad to score between your own poles. So you’s run the right way an’ then you’s ‘as to kick it between those poles, missin’ the catcher an’ you score a point. The side with the most wins.’
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 104