‘Such lovely weather. Why anyone would want to live here is beyond me,’ Marrok bellowed.
‘I ask myself the same question each time we resupply the citadel.’
‘This would be a perfect place to hide, for certain.’
‘Do you really think your enemy is here?’
‘If he is not, he has been, and someone inside knows something.’
The wind dropped without warning as they approached an outcrop of rock that overhung the pass. There the travellers rested. Dark ordered his warriors to eat, drink and rig their sleeping tents.
Coinin took this as a period in which to continue to practice his newly acquired skills. What magic will I need to use? he wondered.
Marrok passed the time speaking to Dark about what they would find ahead.
‘You say this dark wizard is a great enemy and is powerful in the magical arts, yet two boys are sent to kill him,’ Dark said, his heavily accented tones quite melodic.
‘It is our destiny to do so. The archmage herself has taught my brother. He believes he is strong enough to tackle him, and I am here to ensure he gets the opportunity. Coinin refuses to permit anyone else to join in the fight as is his right as curator. He needs The Brotherhood to remain strong and come to our aid or carry on the fight if we are killed.’
‘Then, if it is your destiny, how could you die?’
Marrok himself looked puzzled. ‘Good question. I guess fate will have intervened.’
‘What is fate?
‘I think it is a force that somehow knows the moment you meet your true love or when you die.’
‘Vague indeed, though I could see why that could override destiny. If you are destined to fulfil a task, it does not necessarily mean you will achieve it. Fate could intervene, as you say.’
‘Oh. Well, thanks for cheering me up.’
Dark laughed and clapped his stomach. ‘Anytime, my friend.’
When Dark had finished laughing, he poured two small goblets of ale from a pitcher sat on a small table set up in a communal area that held an open fire. ‘Drink up, my friend. Who knows what we will find beyond?’
‘Speaking of which, what can you tell me of the castle?’ Marrok took a swig of the strong ale and felt its warming effects travel down to his stomach. It was many times stronger than Rosthagaarian ale.
‘The citadel is built into the rock directly,’ Dark began. ‘I hear tell that it was cut from the cliffs with magic, though the occupants don’t permit visitors to venture much beyond the courtyard. There is a half-moon wall with a gatehouse leading up to the mountain pass.’
‘And what of defences?’
‘Light at best. A dozen guards and several archers at last count. They will not be of any consequence. My warriors will strike them down easy enough.’
Marrok growled. ‘There will be no killing. Coinin has forbidden it. The only death shall be Lordich himself.’
‘That is an unreasonable request. Shall I ask my warriors to stand still and be cut down by the enemy?’
‘No, but –’
‘There are no buts. Every one of those guards will do his duty to try to protect your wizard. If they show opposition, then we will strike them down.’
‘If you kill out of turn, I will have to answer to Coinin.’
‘I think in the heat of battle he won’t even notice,’ Dark reasoned.
Marrok looked confused momentarily. ‘You expect there to be a battle? You do not think that Tort will give up Lordich immediately on seeing your forces?’
‘If I know one thing, it’s that he who owns a castle possesses an arrogance so great, they never relent,’ Dark suggested.
‘More fool them then. I would prefer not to kill unnecessarily.
‘I will do my best.’
Dark and Marrok clinked goblets and drank.
‘We shall camp here tonight and approach the citadel at sunrise,’ Marrok decided.
‘Very sage, though night or day, there’s a storm coming in and that may make things a little more unpleasant.’
‘A little rain never bothered me.’
‘Good, because here it comes.’
Sure enough, a light rain began to wet the area. The dwarf army hurried to put up the last of the leather tents. They added the few to those they had already lined in a circle around a fire. It would now need to be continually monitored to prevent the rain from dowsing it.
As the storm worsened, there was no option but to take to the tents and curl up with sheepskin bedding and eat a little something.
‘I wonder what tomorrow will bring?’ Coinin wondered out loud.
‘Most likely a lot of posturing from Tort, and waiting.’ Marrok pursed his lips. ‘I despise waiting.’
‘Well, the sooner you sleep the sooner we’ll be at his gate, demanding entry.’ Coinin yawned, turned over and snuggled into his blanket. ‘Good night, Marrok.’
Marrok sighed, too excited to sleep. ‘Good night. Coinin.’
❖
Morning brought with it a respite from the rain. Breakfast was cobbled together from leftovers from the night before and a handful of dried meat.
Marrok ate heartily, though Coinin refused any sustenance. He was nervous, and butterflies were gnawing away at his insides. He was either going to die today or Lordich would be brought to his knees, finally.
‘Marrok.’ Coinin pushed away his meal and looked sad.
The older sibling stopped eating briefly and looked quizzically at the younger. ‘Don’t say it, Coinin.’
‘If things go awry today, I want you to know that I love you and you mean –’
‘Stop, now brother, unless you want to see what I’ve just eaten returned to the plate.’ Marrok faked sticking fingers down his throat.
‘Come on Marrok, I’m trying to be serious.’
‘Always so serious, far too much, if you ask me. What will be will be, and I know you love me. What, do you want me to say it too?’
‘We could die today, so yes, for once, it would be nice.’
Marrok rolled his eyes and shook his head. ‘Little brother, I love you. Now, can I finish my breakfast?’
‘I’m serious –’
‘And so am I. My breakfast is getting cold.’
Coinin growled in frustration and clambered from the tent. He turned back to Marrok. ‘You’re impossible.’
Marrok smiled and bit into a chunk of dried meat. ‘I know,’ he said, and smiled.
One hour later Coinin and Marrok stood as lone figures before the great portcullis to the Black Shiel Citadel.
Coinin knew this place, he had seen it before in his dreams. He wondered how it was possible, though, before he could contemplate the question there came movement from within the citadel.
From above, two guards wearing iron helmets and green smocks over leather breastplates looked down upon them from the outer wall.
‘Who goes there? Identify friend or foe,’ the guard to the left challenged.
‘Greetings. I am Curator Coinin Wulf, Brotherhood of The Wulf, and this is General Marrok Wulf. We seek an audience with Tort.’
‘That is a fancy title there, young man, with far too many wolves in it for my liking. Why don’t you run along? The Magister sees no one.’
Coinin persisted. ‘We have travelled a long way and require critical information from him.’
The guard aimed his bow, complete with an arrow, towards Coinin. ‘I said run along. I will count to ten.’
Coinin looked to Marrok for guidance and found nothing but a blank stare.
The guard began counting and had just reached three when a new face appeared next to him.
‘What is happening here?’ A tall, thin man, sporting a long grey beard and brown eyes asked.
The guard paled and turned to face his master. ‘Ah, Magister Tort. I was just engaged in driving away these two travellers.’
Tort’s old eyes picked out the brothers below the wall. ‘They are but boys, what do they want?’
�
�They gave some fancy title and identified as Brotherhood of The Wolf or some such name.’
Tort’s face turned from curiousness to fear in the blink of an eye. ‘Brotherhood of The Wulf, you say?’
The guard looked to his companion. ‘That’s what they said?’
‘Yes.’
‘Under no circumstances are you to permit entry to these two. They are a danger to everything we have here.’
‘Well, I wasn’t going to permit them to enter, Master.’
‘Good, keep it that way.’
Coinin was not about to give up and considered the newcomer. This had to be the master; he wore a fancy brocaded cloak of an amber colour. On his head, a hat of sorts flopped around his ears. ‘Do I have the pleasure of addressing Magister Tort? I seek an audience with you.’
‘Go away, boy. We have no need of you here,’ Tort spat angrily and gestured for them to leave.
Marrok looked to Coinin. ‘He’s angry at us for some reason. A guilty conscience on show if ever there was one.’
‘The Brotherhood of The Wulf demand entrance,’ Coinin continued.
Quick as lighting, Marrok raised his shield and deflected an arrow aimed directly at Coinin’s heart. The arrow rebounded with a clang and a whine before striking the dirt.
‘Definitely guilty,’ Coinin said, a little shocked.
Marrok stepped forward a pace, angry himself now. ‘By what right do you have to fire upon my brother?’
‘Every right. This is my domain. The Brotherhood have no business here. Begone boy,’ the old man retorted.
There was nothing for it. The reason they had ventured so far needed to be laid bare. Coinin coughed and put on his most authoritative voice. ‘Magister Tort, we have it on excellent authority that you harbour the criminal and traitor known as Lordich Secracar and demand that you turn him over to the Order of The Wulf.’
Tort laughed. ‘Fool boy, you demand nothing. This man you speak of is not here.’
‘I warn you, Tort, open the portcullis and permit me entry to inspect for myself, or there will be consequences,’ Coinin continued.
Tort guffawed. ‘I know not of this man you speak of, and I see two young boys in the habit of insulting a master of his house. I have a mind to come down there and put you over my knee. Leave this place before I send a detachment of guards out there to dispatch you.’
‘Coinin, don’t push it, our troops are not as close as I’d like,’ Marrok urged.
‘Magister Tort, I will return at the head of an army, and we will seek out this traitor from your midst. You have until sundown to decide. Hand over the traitor or suffer the wrath of The Brotherhood.’
With that, Coinin and Marrok turned and walked away to laughter from above.
‘That’s it boys, turn tail and run,’ the guards mocked.
Tort looked apprehensive and a little green. Did the boy really have an army at his disposal?
As predicted by Dark the dwarf, a ferocious storm lashed rain down the mountainside and cascaded into the citadel below. Thunder shook the foundations and struck fear into the hearts of young and old alike as they cowered in their beds. Lightning flashed across the sky and lit the castle towers within.
Such a storm had not been seen for hundreds of years, and many feared it was a bad omen. The wind blew dark clouds across the sky, scudding across momentary glimpses of a full moon. All around, debris flew so violently that only the foolhardiest ventured outside. A flagpole lay broken, its standard in tatters. Horses kicked at their stables in terror, eyes wide and mouths frothed, while stable-hands dodged kicks in a futile attempt to calm them.
Atop the castle walls, sentries found it near impossible to hold on to the ramparts. The wind and rain blurred their vision, and their green woollen cloaks flapped wildly.
At the entrance to the castle, two shadowy figures, Marrok and Coinin, observed the chaos. Drawing on the elements and the new skills he had learned, the interior of Coinin’s cowl began to glow with a golden hue, obscuring his face. Wolf-like eyes shone brightly and illuminated the ground around him.
His hands extended and his fists formed claws. The castle’s portcullis gates began to vibrate noisily and slowly bent inward to his will until they shattered in a blast of air. The remainder of the gates lay in ruins, and the edges glowed softly as would a sword in a blacksmith’s forge.
The pair moved forward into the portcullis and heat radiated from the remains of the gates. A flash of lightning momentarily lit the features of the taller figure and glinted off the hilt of a sword.
‘Are you ready, brother?’
‘Yes.’
A sword rose and motioned forward. The two figures ran into the castle followed by bloodthirsty roars as a horde of armour-clad warriors piled into the courtyard.
The castle guards unfortunate to stand in the way of the dwarves were struck down one by one as the horde slew all in their path, despite Coinin’s orders to do no such thing.
The brothers headed the crowd and made their way through a courtyard of low buildings, mostly stables, towards a high tower, the way barred by heavy oak doors.
‘Brother, if you will.’
Coinin frowned for a moment in concentration and then reached with his hand as if for the door.
He clenched his fist and pulled his arm back quickly. As he did so, the massive oak doors ripped from their hinges, flew twenty feet into the air and crashed through the roof of a nearby stable. As the dust settled, they saw a guard, stationed at the gaping entrance to the tower, scream and run terrified into the night.
‘Brother, you are scary sometimes,’ Marrok said, wide-eyed.
‘I scare myself,’ Coinin said, amazed at his own abilities.
‘Let’s find the traitor.’ Marrok tipped his head and withdrew his sword.
‘Father’s sword?’ Coinin raised a brow.
‘It seemed fitting.’
The brothers wound their way up an almost never-ending spiral staircase and encountered resistance. They engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the few remaining guards of the castle, Coinin freezing his opponent to the spot and Marrok striking deadly blows to the others. As the last was dispatched, the two brothers reached a small wooden door and entered a dark tower room, a little out of breath.
A cowering Tort greeted them.
‘You know why we are here, old man?’ Coinin asked.
‘Yes, but please, spare my life; I am merely a pawn in the game,’ the old man replied. He shook and prostrated himself before them.
‘Game?’ Marrok roared. ‘This is not a game!’
‘Oh, no, of course it isn’t, I merely meant –’
‘I know what you meant. Where is Lordich?’ Marrok towered over the old man menacingly.
‘He is not here, I tell you.’ The brown eyes of the man pleaded.
‘So, he has been here?’ Coinin crowed.
‘I didn’t say that, I –’
‘You didn’t have to, your eyes said all I needed to know.’
A ruckus outside distracted them, and Marrok stepped over to the small slit window of the tower. ‘The dwarves are running amock. Perhaps I should go and calm them before they tear this citadel apart.’
‘Go, Marrok. I have things under control here,’ Coinin replied, his eyes fixated on the old man.
‘Holler if you need me.’ Marrok ran from the room, taking the steps three at a time.
Coinin listened to the clatter of his brother’s boots recede and studied his foe a little longer.
‘I gave you fair warning, Magister. You thought me a mere child, and yet here I am before you in your stronghold. How do you account for that?’
‘You are versed in the arts of the mages. I have never seen one so young able to wield such power enough to destroy a portcullis.’
‘Does it terrify you?’ Coinin leant in for effect.
‘Y … yes,’ the old man squeaked.
‘My secret is simple; I have been imbued with the collective knowledge and experiences of ma
ny curators before me. I am a veritable library of information, plus I had the greatest of tutors, Archmage Menin.’
‘You were taught by an archmage? You must be an important individual.’
‘The order seems to think so, but lately –’ Coinin stopped and changed his mind. ‘So what can you tell me about Lordich?’
‘I know nothing of the man, save for the name.’
‘Ah, but if that were true, you would not be sweating so much.’
‘I … I sweat because you have cornered me like a wild animal of the hunt.’
Coinin nodded. ‘Mmm. Here is the thing. Above your door, behind me, hangs a standard. Do you know what the image it contains represents?’
All innocence lost, Tort admitted defeat. ‘It is the crest for The Brotherhood of The Dragon.’
‘Excellent, and that means either you are a member of that order and Lordich is here, or you are a collector of unusual curios. Which do you think I am inclined to believe? I ask you again, though, bear in mind your answer will be truthful, or the only remnants of the citadel remaining will be that of rubble. Where is he?’
Marrok was in the middle of a blazing row with Dark. They jabbed at each other with pointed fingers and squared up to one another.
‘I thought I told you there would be no killing of innocents.’ Marrok pointed to the corpse of a stable hand nearby.
‘Say that to the five warriors who now lie dead outside of the castle wall,’ Dark spat in return.
‘I’m ordering you to retreat unless you wish your king to hear of this.’
‘Do not threaten me.’
‘I already did. Move along or answer to your king.’
Dark spat on the ground at Marrok’s feet. ‘Never trust a human,’ he growled. Nevertheless, he retreated, calling his warriors to him as he went.
Marrok watched as the horde of dwarves exited the citadel gatehouse and ventured up to the wintry pass. He shook his head. He’ll make me pay, one way or another. I best watch myself.
He felt eyes watching him from the small windows of several dwellings nearby, and he fingered his sword nervously. Enemy or innocent? he wondered.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 106