He breathed easier in this environment, acutely aware that the healing properties of this secluded place temporarily healed his scarred windpipe. If only it could do the same to my face, he thought.
Reaching the summit of the hill, he sat cross-legged and looked out over the valley. Serene and quiet, it was just the place he had hoped to retire to in his old age, with his wife, and to watch his child grow and take on a family of her own.
Sadly, that was never to be. He turned his head to his left and looked forlornly at the two gravestones beside him, poking out of the grass like the teeth of some large predator.
There, buried by his own hand, his wife and his daughter lay resting until the day he would meet them again. Pain and hate welled inside him as he thought back to the day they had died.
‘I have news, Chelia, Poree. The time is ripe to strike at the heart of The Brotherhood of The Wulf. I will make them pay for what they did to you. Your deaths shall not go unpunished. I will destroy the very core of the Wulf and bring it to its knees. Then, after I have killed all who failed to act that day, I will join you once more in the heavens.’
He prostrated himself on the dry grass and kissed the ground. After a moment, he stood, dusted himself down and strode to the caravan. Stepping inside was like travelling back in time. There, at the far end behind a half-drawn curtain, his old bunk complete with straw mattress sagged above a wooden washstand.
Every nook and cranny held knickknacks his father had collected over the years during his many travels across the lands of Er’ath.
An oil painting of his father in his heydey, dressed in the red tails of ringmaster, adorned a small section of wall above an old, blackened wood stove.
Lordich looked at the visage of his parent and turned away sharply. The last time he had seen his father was on his deathbed, where the old man declared that he had no son, appalled at Lordich’s misdeeds.
Lordich reacted badly to this news and upon his father’s death buried him in an unmarked grave where no one would ever find his remains.
That very day, he had transported the caravan to the burial place of his wife and child, as a reminder that he had come from humble stock to rise as a warlock of such great power and influence among his peers.
He left the caravan with a sigh, took one last look around, and headed back to his portal. He did not relish the next few minutes.
Stepping beyond the tree and back into the non-healing environment of Arromithia was always a painful affair.
The heavily scarred man doubled up in pain and clutched his throat as the scar tissue reasserted itself.
He cursed himself. As part of his deal with Mort to restore his life, he had forgotten to ask that the lord of death return his body to normal and not the lava-seared form he now possessed.
It took several minutes for the pain to subside and he was finally able to rise from his foetal position on the ground and wipe a sweaty brow.
He was paler than usual, but that would soon pass. His first thought was to meet his army and send them forth, though, not in his weakened state. He would need to eat soon to replenish his energies.
Making his way laboriously towards a cave system in the distance, he stopped briefly to raid a small wooden locker at the rear of his meditation cave and feasted hungrily on a shank of pork he extracted from a muslin cloth. With each bite his strength grew and not several minutes later he was back to his usual fitness.
He took a long swig of blood-red wine, and hastened from the cave, marching with determination to the meeting place in the distance.
He strode uphill full of renewed vigour and determination, silently rehearsing his next words to the gathered.
Cresting the peak of the hill, he looked down into a natural amphitheatre, where ten thousand men, women, orcs and giants chattered excitedly.
His slave had worked fast to gather everyone so quickly, but then time worked differently in his healing place. Half a day could have passed in the time he had been away.
Lordich inched carefully down the hill and stopped upon a natural outcrop of dense rock that served as a platform from which to speak.
Below, a great bellow of cheers and enthusiastic clapping ensued. The excitement in the air was substantial.
Lordich let them clap and cheer for two minutes more before he raised his hands high for silence.
It took several infuriating minutes for the hubbub to die down, Lordich’s usual grey pallor turning red with annoyance.
Finally, the horde silenced and Lordich stepped forward, raising himself to his full height, gaining strength from the eagerness of those waiting for him to speak.
‘Brothers, warlocks, orcs and all. The time has come. For so long we have waited for this day. While the Golden Temple and its neighbouring city lie unguarded, its curator, archmage and warriors chase shadows in The New World.’
A raucous laughter rang around the amassed soldiers.
‘Only a handful of old men guard Rostha City, and while The Brotherhood’s away … we will play.’
A whooping ensued and Lordich, once again, had to raise his hands to silence the crowd.
‘This day, we will march to destroy and put an end to King Hantenstum’s traitorous influence in Rosthagaar. We will take Rostha and from there the Golden Temple. Little did the fools know that we were always but a short march from the city. So much for their spies. Without aid from Rostha, we will crush and put an end to this disease that masquerades under the name of religion as peacekeepers and lighter than light.’
A roar began to build from the crowd, and this enthused Lordich. He began to pace back and forth across the rocky outcrop. Wind whipped through his hair, and his expression was one of elation.
‘Who will ride with me this day?’
Cheers abound and a great clash of swords on shields reverberated around the hillside.
‘Who wishes to crush our enemy, drive them into extinction?’ Lordich’s voice rang higher.
The noise was deafening, but Lordich basked in the glory of the moment and relished the hold he had over these fierce warriors, driven to do his bidding.
‘Then ride, my friends, and march forth for The Brotherhood of The Dragon. Today, a new order will rise.’ Lordich raised his hands high into the air as if he had already won the battle.
Deeply satisfied, he smiled to himself for the first time in many years and strode down the hill to meet his lieutenants, the band of warlocks he trusted most and held council with.
Panting at the exertion of his descent, he stopped for a moment to survey the staging area slowly clearing of soldiers, horses, armaments and waggons. Ten thousand men and women, four thousand horses, and quadruple that amount in arrows for the archers. Overkill, for certain, though Lordich rarely took chances since his own capture and summary execution all those many years ago.
PLOTTING & PLANNING
Aniol sat on the edge of the wooden dock looking out over the harbour. So much had happened recently, she just wanted some time to herself.
She watched several dwarfs, standing on the rims of wooden boats, catch fish with small nets, and then toss their catch deftly into waiting baskets lined up along the hulls.
Gulls called overhead, diving for any stray fish lucky to escape the fisher’s net, which then often led to squabbling amongst a dozen birds over whom the morsel belonged to.
Down by the waterside a group of brightly dressed females, with cuffs rolled up beyond the elbow, chatted excitedly about recent events while they hand washed clothes over rocks or handmade washboards.
It was just over three weeks since Coinin and Marrok had left and she found herself missing them greatly. They had parted on bad terms and that had played on her mind for days now. She prayed daily to Rindor that the boys remained safe. General Jericho had informed her that they were unlikely to return for at least six weeks.
She was just about to stand and go for a walk when she heard a distant screaming and then a bright blue flash of light appeared out over
the harbour. A large ring of shimmering air appeared above the fishing boats and then with a loud rush, two bodies fell from the portal.
Narrowly missing the fishing vessels, Coinin and Marrok plunged into the cold harbour waters.
Quick as lightning, four fisher dwarves dived into the waters without hesitation and assisted the brothers to the surface; their thick woollen cloaks and armour had prevented them from surfacing.
Coughing and spluttering and thankful to be alive, Coinin and Marrok appreciatively accepted the assistance into one of the boats. Once there, they breathed hard and tried to ignore the cold.
Coinin looked sideways to his brother. ‘What were you thinking, Marrok?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I was thinking of the castle courtyard. Does this look like a yard to you?’
Marrok scowled. ‘Well, if I hadn’t thought of the ship, you’d be face down on cold marble right now.’
Coinin crossed his arms and huffed.
Marrok looked out over the harbour and smiled to himself. He just can’t bear to be wrong.
‘Though, I suppose, we did arrive safely,’ Coinin relented a minute later. As they neared the dock, his heart leapt. Aniol was there frantically waving at them, a huge smile on her face. ‘Look, Marrok, it’s Aniol.’
Marrok smiled and waved at her in return.
The small boat docked and the brothers thanked the dwarves for saving them. The dwarves merely nodded and puffed on clay pipes like nothing unusual had occurred.
Sodden and in surprisingly good spirits for having endured the agony of being transported across the continent, the boys happily accepted hugs from a very excited Aniol.
‘Oh, by Rindor’s might you’ve returned. It is so good to see you. What happened? Did you defeat him? Can we go home now? How –’
‘Aniol,’ Coinin held up his hands, ‘come up for air. All in good time. My priority is to get out of these wet clothes.’
Aniol noticed for the first time that the boys were wet and shivering with cold. ‘Oh, dear me, yes. Quickly now before you catch your ... ‘ she stalled, unable to finish. ‘Off to the barracks with you.’
Marrok looked to Coinin and winked. ‘She’s cluckier than a mother hen,’ he smiled.
King Henfal’s regent had been informed of the brother’s arrival and that they would seek an audience with him within the hour. There were more pressing matters to deal with beforehand, and a discussion was taking place in the barracks about those very matters.
Archmage Menin and Jericho were sat on wooden stools on the opposite side of a curtain that divided them from Coinin, who was hurriedly drying himself after having relieved a castle guard of his turn at a warm bath. He felt uncomfortably naked with visitors in the room. However, that had not stopped him from relating his tale.
‘– and that’s it, we arrived here, thankfully in one piece.’
‘Bless Rindor for small mercies,’ Menin called out.
Jericho stood and scratched at his beard. ‘I want to come back to the part where Tort said Lordich was plotting to overthrow Hantestum. What makes you so convinced that he wouldn’t do that?’
‘To be perfectly honest, I’m not convinced by anything Tort had to say. My bet is Lordich is going after the Golden Temple,’ Coinin replied, while pulling on an undershirt.
‘Just suppose then, that Lordich took the throne of Rostha. What legitimacy would that give him to declare the Order illegitimate? Would that give him rights to physically destroy the temple and brand us as outlaws?’ Jericho asked.
Menin clucked her tongue. ‘He could easily destroy the temple in our absence. Would he need the throne to legitimise that?’
Coinin thought hard while fastening his leather belt, the many voices of former curator’s offering advice from within his mind. ‘If he wants to rule, he can only do so by fear or consent. Perhaps it is easier to gather support from the peoples of Rosthagaar.’
‘The Brotherhood has supported and protected Rosthagaar for centuries. If he merely destroyed the temples, there would be an outcry, I’m sure. He would then find it hard to find support among the peoples. Perhaps there is truth to Tort’s claim,’ Menin mused.
‘Then, there really is only one way to find out, and that is to return home,’ Jericho said, echoing what everyone was thinking.
‘Sailing will take far too long,’ Coinin said.
‘King Thymes refused the use of a sky ship. Would he deny us the Key of Kalor?’ Jericho asked.
‘Even if he did permit its use, it only transports three to four people every two to three days. We can get two trips from it per use depending on the number of travellers. It needs the remaining time to recharge its energies. What use is that?’ Menin pointed out.
‘That’s enough to travel home and warn the temple. I say the archmage and Zaruun depart for Rodine immediately and consult with King Thymes; those of us remaining will take the long way home,’ Coinin suggested.
‘Surely, the curator should travel home. It is, after all, your duty to protect The Great Library,’ Menin countered.
‘The safest place on Er’ath is the temple. My duty also is to the protection of the archmage. I need to stay with the men. It will be a long voyage, and they will need the comfort of the curator.’
‘How long is long?’ Jericho asked.
‘According to Captain Dalia, in the galleon we have acquired, three hundred and fifty days by sail, if the weather is good.’
‘By Rindor, that is a ridiculous amount of time. Could we not plead our case to Thymes?’
‘If we spent forty days sailing to Rodine, consulted with Riley, and had him refuse us assistance, we would then need to spend a further forty days to get back to this point. That would add a further eighty days to our trip,’ Coinin reasoned.
‘Coinin has a point, Laliala,’ Jericho said.
Menin sighed. ‘Then, we have no choice. We three will head for Rodine. Jericho, you should prepare for a long voyage while we set sail for Rodine this very evening.’
‘I need Aniol, too,’ Coinin suddenly announced.
‘She is small; perhaps the Key will stretch to accommodate her. However, if it won’t, then she will have to be left behind,’ Menin replied.
‘We must try,’ Coinin pleaded.
Jericho nodded ‘Agreed. ‘She is, after all, Coinin’s personal protection.’
The next steps arranged, Coinin left Menin and Jericho to discuss other matters and exited the barrack room on the hunt for Marrok and Aniol, to break the news.
He found them several minutes later, enjoying a tankard of ale together, overlooking the castle’s orchard. They stood with their backs to him, and Aniol seemed to be enjoying herself, laughing at one of Marrok’s stupid jokes. It was good to see her enjoying herself in the late afternoon sun. Very different from just three weeks hence.
Thoughts of Reena flooded back to him, and he felt guilt suddenly. He had shown far too much interest in Aniol. Was it wrong to think of her as beautiful, exciting and desirable, so close after Reena’s passing?
He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind; too much was happening right now to focus on one thing. Still, he stopped dead. A single word nagged at him and rested upon the tip of his tongue. His heart skipped a beat. He was in love with Aniol.
He almost turned away to run. He should not be feeling this way. She would never reciprocate. She had said it herself, Axl was her everything.
He felt sick. Had he not just convinced Menin to bring Aniol along? Was that some unconscious desire?
Before he could solve the riddle, Marrok spotted him and called out to him. ‘What’re you doing skulking over there? Come and drink. We could have very well died today, let us celebrate our luck.’
Coinin shook his head. ‘We don’t have time. I need to speak with you and Aniol.’
‘What’s happening?’ Aniol joined them cheerfully. She gave Coinin a sparkling smile, and he blushed uncontrollably.
‘I need just a moment wi
th Marrok if I may, Aniol.’
Aniol smiled and nodded. She brushed red hair from her face and gave the brothers some room.
‘Marrok. A decision has been made. You will lead our people home via sea.’
‘Wait! You made a decision without consulting me?’ Marrok glared.
Coinin gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Things are moving quickly. We can’t stop to gauge everyone’s opinion each time a decision is made.’
‘That’s all very well, but as a general, should I not have been consulted?’
‘Stop being so prickly. I’m telling you now, am I not? Stop making this harder than it has to be.’
‘What do you mean, harder?’
Coinin cursed and tears welled in his eyes. ‘I’m not going to see you for over a year. I came to find you and rescue you from Lordich, and find you I did. Now I don’t want to let you go.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your voyage will take over three hundred days,’ Coinin replied glumly.
Marrok, quite out of character, wrapped his arms around Coinin. ‘We do what must be done. You need to remain strong. Once Lordich is out of the way, and we finish what we started, we will have many years to celebrate life. A year or more is a small sacrifice to pay.’
Coinin held his brother tight. ‘I will miss you.’
‘And I, you. Now let go, this is quite embarrassing, and Aniol is watching.’
He and Coinin parted with just a little giggling.
Aniol stood several feet away, hands on hips and a pout on her lips. ‘Are you two quite finished? I’m eager to hear this news of yours.’
‘Aniol,’ Coinin flushed again, ‘how many times must I say, you mustn’t speak to me in that manner.’
Aniol stood to attention. ‘I’m sorry, Curator. I was caught up in the intimacy of the moment.’
‘Relax, Aniol. Just remember your duties. You will be travelling with me later today.’
‘Where are we headed, Sir?’
‘Rodine. Archmage Menin and Zaruun will be joining us.’ Coinin invited Aniol and Marrok to sit with him on a nearby wooden bench.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 108