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

by Harrison Davies

  Around them, birds sang while heading for roosting perches amongst the orchard of apple trees.

  ‘Marrok, I am sending you to lead the others back home. You will set sail, perhaps tomorrow, when you’ve provisioned. We, on the other hand, will visit with King Thymes of Rodine and request either an airship or the use of the Key of Kalor. With it, we can travel to the Golden Temple in the blink of an eye.’

  Aniol frowned. ‘What’s so urgent that we have to leave?’

  ‘We believe the temple is in danger and Lordich may be trying to become King of Rosthagaar. We need to head home to prepare the temple to ward off any attack.’

  ‘Why can’t we all go together?’ Marrok asked.

  Coinin pursed his lips. ‘The Key only has enough power to transport three to four people. Listen, we can discuss this all day, but Aniol and I will be leaving within the hour. I need to thank the king for his hospitality and confide in him our next steps in the hope he’ll provide provisions for our journeys. Marrok, would you inform Captain Dalia of the plan and begin preparations to leave?’

  ‘I will,’ Marrok nodded. ‘I’ll head off now.’

  ‘Splendid. Aniol, with me.’

  Marrok hurried away towards the barracks, only stopping briefly to look back at his brother with sadness.

  Coinin took a good look at Aniol while they walked towards the castle and saw for the first-time dark circles around her eyes and her mouth seemed to be a little downturned. There was a stoop to her walk, as if she was carrying a heavy weight upon her shoulders.

  ‘Aniol?’

  ‘Yes, Curator?’

  ‘With everything that has happened, I didn’t really get a chance to say how sorry I am for … well, you know, Axl.’

  Aniol stopped and turned her face away. ‘Axl will always hold a special place in my heart. I thank you for your friendship. I value it more than you know. I just want to concentrate on our task ahead. if I don’t, I fear I will drown in grief. As the archmage says, there will be plenty of time to mourn.’

  ‘She has supported you these past three weeks?’

  ‘I have been in good company. Do you mind if we do not discuss this right now?’

  ‘No, absolutely. I’m sorry. Shall we?’ Coinin gestured that they should continue.

  Aniol smiled weakly. ‘Thank you for caring.’

  Coinin did not follow immediately. He was lost in thought. Should I not bring Aniol along? She’s in mourning, and my own feelings for her may get in the way.

  Before he had time to explore these thoughts further, Aniol called to him.

  ‘Are you going to continue to lollygag or are we going to take the fight to Lordich sometime this century?’

  Coinin shook his head and smiled. Only Aniol could get away with such things.

  King Henfal was holding court, sat on his throne, fielding one problem after the next. My neighbour stole a sheep. Raiders from the west burnt the crops on the far field. On and on villagers complained and petitioned him. He was bored with it all. He wished that he could wander off on grand adventures like The Brotherhood, but his wife, Lerial had expressly forbidden him to do so.

  He was delighted when Coinin entered the throne room and waited patiently in line. He had heard of the brother’s dramatic return and was eager to learn of the fate of his brethren. He had been informed they were safe, but not much beyond that.

  He stood and stretched his back. It clicked and cracked with age and relief. ‘Curator Wulf,’ he motioned, ‘step forward.’

  Groans of dissatisfaction emanated from the waiting line of peasants. Someone had been granted an early petition before them, which was worse than waiting in line for endless hours.

  Coinin stepped forward and bowed to the king. ‘Your Highness, I am more than happy to wait.’

  Murmurs of support ran along the line of petitioners.

  ‘Nonsense, I will not have you wait like a commoner. Come forth.’

  Coinin disliked the reference to commoner intensely, yet held his tongue. He tipped his head politely, and he and Aniol walked the line to the platform.

  Henfal joined them and ushered the pair from the throne room and through the door to his private quarters.

  Queen Lerial was sat upon a high-backed chair by the comfort of a warm fire. She was busily cross-stitching a multi-coloured frieze and looked up with a smile upon seeing the newcomers.

  ‘Coinin, Aniol. It is so good to see you. I had heard you had returned. Why didn’t you come to us sooner?’ Lerial placed her work on a side table and stood.

  ‘Apologies both. Order business took precedence, and that is why I am here, actually.’

  ‘Drink?’ Henfal invited.

  ‘Milk, if you have it,’ Coinin replied.

  ‘Henfal raised a brow but smiled. ‘Interesting choice. Lerial, please see to it.’

  ‘I need a clear head.’ Coinin flushed. He never did like the taste of ale.

  Henfal patted the backrest of the settee. ‘Come, sit, and tell me what has transpired and how I can be of service.’

  ‘Very gracious of you, Your Highness.’

  ‘Please, call me Henfal. We are all friends here.’

  ‘If you insist.’ Coinin chuckled. He sat in one of the fine leather settees, while the king took the other. Aniol stood behind patiently. ‘I firstly wish to thank you for providing us such aid in our time of need and to assure you that your troops are safe and well. Certainly, the last time I saw them.’

  Henfal raised his brows and then gave Coinin a quizzical look. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I do not wish to speak out of turn, but Dark stranded us at the Citadel and headed back to Manil without us.’

  Henfal thumped his fist into his thigh and sighed. ‘There have been issues with him in the past. What triggered this desertion, do you know?’

  Coinin felt uncomfortable having already revealed Dark had left, but to add insubordination to the accusations was a different story. Dark had been ordered to obey all commands given to him. He hesitated briefly. ‘I instructed Dark not to kill any residents unless attacked first. He was caught killing an occupant of the Citadel who was not a soldier. He and Marrok argued about that action and Dark was ordered back to the camp. When Marrok checked later, Dark and your soldiers were gone, as was the camp.’

  Lerial returned at that moment and cheerfully handed Coinin and Aniol a goblet of milk each. ‘You would not believe how difficult it is to find milk. Those servants need a dressing down.’

  ‘Thank you, Lerial.’ Coinin took a sip.

  ‘So, tell me, what news?’ Lerial said, and sat next to Coinin.

  ‘We were just having that very conversation,’ Henfal replied. ‘It seems Dark has disobeyed his orders and abandoned his post, as it were.’

  Lerial looked shocked. ‘That’s unlike Dark.’

  Henfal coughed. ‘Actually, it is more like Dark than you know. This is the last time he disobeys my orders. I will see that he is punished.’

  ‘You mean he has disobeyed you before?’ Lerial asked.

  Henfal looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. ‘Can we get back to the matter in hand? Did you find your traitor?’

  Lerial crossed her arms and pouted her lips. She was not going to let her question go unanswered. She would speak with Henfal in private.

  ‘Sadly, no. However, we have reason to believe he has set his sights on the throne of Rosthagaar or desires the destruction of our Temple. We need to return home immediately.’

  ‘That is such a shame, I was so getting used to having you here. I will miss Laliala. I must go to her,’ Lerial decided. She stood, excused herself and left the room.

  ‘I take it then that you need something from me.’ Henfal crossed his arms.

  ‘May we intrude on your hospitality further to help stock our ship for a journey of roughly three hundred and fifty days? Additionally, I need a boat for four to travel to Rodine,’ Coinin replied, unhopeful.

  King Henfal stood and paced the room, considering th
e request. Coinin eyed him carefully and tapped his fingers lightly on his knees.

  Henfal returned to his seat a minute later. He leant forward and steepled his fingers together. ‘If I do this, I want something in return.’

  Coinin’s eyes widened a little. ‘If it is within my power, I will honour your request.’

  ‘Good. There is no finer wine than that produced by your Order. If I help you, I require a dozen barrels of your finest every year for life.’

  ‘I’m not a negotiator, but I would say ten years’ worth would be sufficient compensation.’

  Henfal laughed heartily. ‘You, Sir, drive a hard bargain. Call it twelve years and you have a deal.’

  ‘I have no idea regarding the quantities that the Temple produces, but I will find out.’ Coinin turned to Aniol. ‘Please go and find Archmage Menin and ask the question. Twelve barrels, yes or no.’

  ‘Very well.’ Aniol nodded and hurried to her task.

  ‘Henfal, I wish to thank you again for your hospitality. You have been most kind to us.’

  ‘Blame the wife, she has nothing but praise for your Order, and well, she is great friends with Laliala.’

  The conversation died, and the pair sat in silence, tapping boots or fiddling with a goblet. Every now and then, they nodded and smiled at each other.

  Relief from the awkward silence came as Aniol returned to the chamber accompanied by a castle guard.

  ‘Sir, this woman wishes to speak with you. I felt it best to escort her.’

  ‘Aniol, welcome. You may go, guard.’ Henfal dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

  The guard saluted, clicked his heels and left the room, closing the door as he left.

  ‘Well, what’s the answer?’

  ‘The archmage will send you fifteen barrels of the finest temple wine per year if we survive our adventure,’ Aniol replied.

  ‘Wonderful news indeed.’ Henfal clapped his hands and then offered his to Coinin. ‘I knew I could count on The Brotherhood.’

  ‘You must really like our wine.’ Coinin chuckled and took the hand.

  Henfal winked. ‘It is not for me. It is for my Queen. It makes her more … agreeable after a few goblets.’

  Luckily, Henfal did not see Aniol’s scowl of disapproval. If looks could kill, he would have been the next to visit the undertaker.

  Menin stood on the bridge of the galleon overlooking everyone who had travelled with them from Rodine.

  She smiled sadly and looked at each one in turn with a deep fondness.

  ‘There has been a development, and I won’t bore you with details. Lordich, we believe, is planning to take the throne of Rosthagaar and use this as a stepping stone to sack the Golden Temple, our spiritual home.’ Menin gripped the handrail of the bridge. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how damaging that would be, so we have a plan. General Wulf, would you do the honours?’

  Marrok looked up like a startled hare from his place beside Coinin and Jericho on the main deck. He blushed scarlet and did not move until Coinin pushed him forward. Like a frightened lamb, he walked up the bridge steps and joined Menin. He looked over the railing and swallowed hard as a sea of faces looked up at him expectantly. He took a deep breath. ‘The plan,’ he squeaked and coughed, ‘the plan is to send Archmage Menin, the Curator and Protector’s Zaruun and Aniol back to Rodine. They will travel from there to Rosthagaar via the Key of Kalor. The rest of us have drawn the short straw. We will travel via sea back home.’

  Looks of disgruntlement passed across the faces of several of the crew. Life on the oceans of Er’ath was the last thing many of those listening desired.

  ‘How long will that take? I’m missing my wife,’ said a voice at the back.

  Murmurs of agreement ran around the onlookers.

  Marrok held up his hands. ‘Yes, I know many of you are disappointed. However, our mission is to preserve the safety and security of all the peoples of Er’ath, not just your wife, son, daughter, or friends. The Brotherhood asks so much of you, day in and day out, and we have seen good friends and brothers die. Shall we put the lives of everyone you hold dear at risk by failing in our task to unite the Swords of Cerathil?’

  Uncertain looks passed between the crowd, and some of those read as guilty.

  ‘I for one, wish to see our enemy Lordich brought to justice, and I assure you we will do just that. However, a much darker threat hangs over us all, and that is Death. We can only defeat him by fulfilling the prophecy. I ask you all to consider what is best for you, your friends, family, and all those you hold dear. Are you with me?’

  A lacklustre response was forthcoming.

  ‘Do you want Rindor to continue to rule in his loving way, or would you rather see this whole planet destroyed and Death win the grand war in the heavens? Because that is exactly what is coming if you do not stand up and be counted.’ Marrok paced the railing and continued with more gusto. ‘Let us do our duty to serve our God with pride and take the fight to our enemies and cry war as we do so. Let us not be afraid, our time is but fleeting in this world, so make the most of it this day. So, then I will ask you again, who is with me?’

  Cheers rang out, and boots thumped on the main deck.

  Marrok retreated down the steps and joined his brother.

  ‘Nice speech, brother.’ Coinin clapped him on the back.

  ‘It’s easy once you know how,’ a cocksure Marrok smiled.

  Menin resumed her position at the bridge railing. ‘Thank you to General Wulf for that rousing speech. It is true that we will not see each other for some considerable time, but let it be known that you will all be in my prayers and, should we fail to meet again, that I was proud to have called you my Brothers and Sisters. We have much work to do and little time in which to do it. Please liaise with your section commanders who have drafted a plan to load provision to last for your journey. That is all.’

  Menin looked out over the deck, and a lump caught in her throat. It would be far too many days until they would meet again.

  LORDICH STRIKES

  The horns of war blew a monotonous tone designed to bring fear to those in earshot. It worked. City dwellers ran left and right, carrying what little they had, including children and animals. They hurried, terrified at the sight of the grand army boldly marching along Rostha’s main thoroughfare that wound its way upwards to Castle Rostha.

  Lordich’s army had made short work of the city’s main defence, the high wall that circled it. The dark wizard had obtained several warships on loan from the Madorine and sailed two of them right up to Port Rostha. There, dozens of cannons blasted a way through the wall.

  Smoke and debris had flown in all directions, killing the many unfortunate civilians to be in the path of the devastation.

  Brave archers atop the wall managed only two volleys towards the ships before the wall they stood upon collapsed into a heap of useless rubble.

  The large city gates flanked by sandstone columns stood ridiculously upright while the wall surrounding them gaped pointlessly.

  Lordich, grey-haired and heavily scarred, led the column of ten thousand men, women and orcs, eager for blood. Two thousand were tasked with taking the lower city and a further two the upper city, while Lordich would take the castle with the remainder.

  As the horde followed their leader, section commanders ordered teams of soldiers to seal off exits from the many alleyways that intersected the main street. They had orders to quell any unrest with force if necessary.

  Lordich, however, had forbidden the killing of civilians unnecessarily upon pain of death. He needed to make the people of the city his allies if he was to take the city and rule thereafter.

  Several giants pushed, with difficulty, wooden siege towers designed to scale the castle walls. The large wooden wheels slipped on the wet cobblestones of the main street, so much so, that Lordich ordered the towers abandoned and proceeded forward.

  The city guards who had survived the initial attack were chained and paraded before the attackers l
ike a prize. The hope was that if the sheer numbers of the invading force did not make King Hantestum surrender, then what Lordich had planned for the prisoners would quickly change his mind.

  King Hantestum, however, had no intention of yielding. He would order every last man to his death if necessary to protect his way of life.

  The king stood arrogantly on the battlements of the castle, observing the oncoming mass of soldiers grow ever larger. His ample stomach growled. This intrusion had rudely interrupted his breakfast. He smacked his lips, making his double chin wobble furiously and ran a hand through his curly grey hair. He required a haircut and would seek out the castle barber when all this nonsense was over.

  Such was the arrogance of the man who believed that his barrack of one hundred men could stand up to the approaching army.

  ‘This castle is impregnable,’ he boasted to the Captain of the Guard who stood next to him.

  ‘I thought so, too, until that boy from the temple blew a hole in the gatehouse wall,’ the captain reminded. ‘The repair has made the castle weaker at that point.’

  Hantestum hardly heard him; he remembered the daring escape by The Brotherhood from his grasp. Coinin had demanded an audience with him and requested the release of the Menin woman, who claimed not be on a mission to usurp his throne. Hantestum had refused to release Menin and instead imprisoned Coinin and the others. They had subsequently escaped, leaving a gaping hole in his castle wall. Heads had rolled that day.

  The captain, a squirrelly man of advanced age and new to the position, since Hantestum had killed the last man who had held the title, bellowed to his lieutenant. ‘Where are my archers?’

  ‘They are just coming, Sir,’ the lieutenant yelled from the courtyard below.

  The captain leant further over the crenellated wall and peered down at two dozen archers scrambling to organise themselves, seizing bows and quivers from a stockpile leaning against the keep wall.

  ‘Faster, the enemy are upon us,’ the lieutenant screamed.

  The captain could not agree more and stroked his neck, where a noose would soon be should he fail in his task to protect the castle.