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

by Harrison Davies

‘Half as fast again as the galleon. We should have sent everyone home in these boats,’ Aniol laughed.

  ‘You joke, but we will not have a pleasant trip, I fear,’ Zaruun added. ‘Besides, I feel we will see thirty days gone before we set foot in Rodine.’

  ‘But you just said –’ Aniol interrupted.

  ‘The sea is a fickle master,’ Zaruun said flatly.

  ‘He’s the life and soul of the party,’ Menin whispered to Coinin.

  Marrok looked over the stern of the ship at the tiniest speck that was the sailboat disappearing into the mist. ‘Take care, brother,’ he murmured, and sniffed. He wiped his eyes hastily as footsteps approached from behind.

  ‘Is everything well, General?’ Quindil enquired.

  Marrok turned to face the newcomer and nodded. ‘I don’t know what is worse, voluntarily leaving your family behind or being snatched from them against your will.’

  Quindil took a moment to register that. ‘I would have to say, leaving voluntarily. The faces of my wife and daughter when I have to leave is … beyond words.’

  Marrok looked at the squat man before him, a brave a man as any he had known. ‘Have you thought, considering your condition, of taking a more permanent role within the temple?’

  Quindil did not appear offended, but only slightly defensive. ‘I may only have one arm, but I pull my weight. Why would I want to lose all this excitement?’

  ‘Three hundred and fifty days aboard this boat with all you smelly landlubbers is not my idea of excitement.’ Marrok chuckled.

  ‘There’s always the dance of the plank if you find it that troublesome,’ Quindil replied with a broad smile.

  ❖

  DAY 2 – COININ WULF (CURATOR)

  Such sickness, terrible wrenching. Blast these waves, when will they end? I can barely hold anything down. Zaruun insists I must for fear of dehydration. Menin is happily sat up front calmly communing with Orodor. How does she do it?

  I wonder if we should have all travelled together to Rodine on the off-chance that King Thymes gave us the Key of Kalor. Even transporting one person every two days would have been preferable to sending them on a treacherous sea voyage.

  Without a precise location to transport we would never locate them.

  What do they say about hindsight?

  DAY 6 – LALIALA MENIN (ARCHMAGE)

  I cannot seem to bring Coinin out of his funk. He blames himself for not seeing the obvious. I need to get through to him that even the best of us miss something and that he should not hold himself accountable. None of us saw the obvious. We are, after all, only human.

  Aside from that, the food is lousy, though Zaruun is keeping spirits up with his storytelling. I may rib him on that, but he knows how to tell a tale.

  I have thought of asking him if he wants to join the other scribes in chronicling our history. I wonder what his answer would be?

  DAY 16 – ANIOL (PERSONAL GUARD)

  Coinin is acting strange around me. He blushes and looks away each time we pass or glance at each other. I am determined to ask him what is wrong, but he has so much on his mind this minute, I shall leave it until a more appropriate time.

  It has been a month since Axl passed and, under Menin’s instruction, I have been able to control my emotions to some degree, but I find myself weepy when alone.

  Coinin, despite his oddness, has been a fantastic support.

  Zaruun’s stories are hilarious. I always considered him an ogre, but there is a real person beyond his icy exterior.

  DAY 19 – ZARUUN (PERSONAL GUARD)

  I have spied land.

  ❖

  Just two days later, Zaruun manoeuvred the small craft up to the wooden dock. Within range, Coinin hopped from the boat, landing sure-footed, despite the slick boards.

  He quickly tied the boat off at the stern and then hurried to the bow where he fastened the line tight.

  Archmage Menin stepped off the vessel with the assistance of Coinin’s hand. ‘Well, things seem to be a lot busier around here.’

  Menin referred to the bustling crowds not far off, going about their business of visiting the market or generally sprucing the city up. Dozens of Roderians, some of them having come from Underworld by their looks, were atop ladders, giving every windowsill, gutter and doorframe a fresh lick of pristine whitewash. Cleaners swept the roads and, nearby, gardeners were trimming trees and grass verges.

  ‘King Thymes has been busy,’ Aniol declared.

  ‘Who would want to live in the city the way it was?’ Zaruun questioned.

  ‘Not me, that’s for certain. It is beginning to look much better already,’ Coinin replied.

  The group made their way steadily along the Main Street of the city, careful to avoid the steam driven conveyances that hurried by every minute or so, and it hit them how much cleaner the air was than previously. Aniol pointed out that the chimneys sprouting up from the palace grounds were no longer churning out dark clouds of foul smoke.

  Everywhere they looked, folk appeared much happier. Warm, genuine smiles replaced fearful looks and haggard expressions. There was a definite spring in the step of many city dwellers they encountered.

  A vendor held out a parchment and waved it vigorously. ‘Get your Rodine Crier ‘ere. King to ‘onour The Brotherhood.’

  All ears pricked up and the small group of travellers hustled over to the vendor.

  Menin smiled and offered the street seller a gold coin. ‘I’ll take one of those please.’

  The crier took the coin with suspicion and bit it. Satisfied, he deposited it within the folds of his waistcoat and handed over a neatly rolled parchment. ‘Thank you kindly,’ he nodded.

  Menin carefully undid the thin black ribbon holding the parchment shut and unfurled the scroll. The text was press printed rather than handwritten, and along the top edge, the words Rodine Crier were prominently placed. Several columns of fine text ran from top to bottom, and an image had been ink pressed into a central gap. It was an artist’s rendition of The Brotherhood’s Rodine temple.

  ‘Read it then, Archmage,’ Coinin eagerly invited, impatient to hear the news.

  Menin found a column headed, King to honour Brotherhood of The Wulf. ‘His Royal Majesty, King Riley Thymes, has released a palace statement today confirming plans to honour The Brotherhood of The Wulf and its brave brothers and sisters who fought so valiantly and righteously to restore the true king to his throne. The King is quoted as saying, “Without their aid, even now my brother would continue to rule this land with an iron grip. We are thankful, nay, all Rodine is grateful for their assistance.’ The statement went on to say that a yearly celebration will be held and a day, yet to be chosen, will be forever known as Brotherhood day. Secondary to that, a new monument is to be erected in the central square as a lasting memorial.’

  Menin handed the parchment to Coinin. ‘This will do wonders for our conversion rates. I shall expect to see a spike in those figures soon enough.’

  As they walked further into the city and beyond the Main Street the crowds quietened significantly, and they crossed the road safely before venturing on to the bridge that connected the palace to the city.

  Ahead they could see bamboo scaffolding towering over the chimney stacks and handfuls of workers steadily dismantling the eyesore.

  ‘They work fast,’ Zaruun commented.

  ‘I believe the Roderians assisted in building the temple here. It was reported that no other temple had been built so fast, considering its size. Temple architect, Prentis could well learn something from these people.’

  ‘He’s getting a little long in the tooth to send for schooling,’ Zaruun rightly pointed out.

  Menin chuckled. ‘I meant that one of the king’s builders could visit us.’

  The palace gates loomed large and closed securely. Outside, several guards stood watching the visitors warily as they made their way slowly along the bridge.

  Upon reaching the checkpoint, Coinin stepped forth and waited while a se
nior looking guard finished his task and ventured his way. He wore leather armour, and a curved sword hung by his side. ‘Greetings stranger. What business have you here?’

  Coinin smiled warmly. ‘I am Coinin Wulf, Curator of the Golden Temple. I represent Archmage Menin and The Brotherhood of The Wulf. If it pleases you, would you inform the king that we have returned and require assistance.’

  The guard looked him up and down, unconvinced. The visitors were unkempt and having just travelled a great distance, were not clothed appropriately. He clicked his fingers and a similarly dressed guard ran to his side. ‘Send word to the Lord Chamberlain. There are four here who claim to represent The Brotherhood of The Wulf.’

  The younger officer nodded and raced off at speed, stopping only briefly to enter a small access door in the main gates.

  ‘If you would be so kind as to wait over there.’ The guard gestured to a wooden guard post at the side of the gateway. ‘I have sent for the Lord Chamberlain.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Coinin nodded.

  The inside of the guard post was bare except for a low bench upon which the travellers sat. All eyes remained on them, curious if indeed these visitors were indeed the now famed Brotherhood.

  Several long minutes later, the main gate creaked open, and a red-faced Lord Chamberlain stepped into the sunlight. He wore a velvet cloak of purple to match his court robe, and his hair was a tight knot of curls. ‘This had better be good, Captain,’ his deep throaty voice warned.

  The captain saluted along with his other men. ‘Your guests await, Lord Biran.’

  Coinin and the others took this as the correct moment to step from the hut and into the presence of a very impatient looking Chamberlain. Though the moment he saw them, he was all smiles. ‘My dear friends. Back so soon?’ He laughed. ‘Did you forget something?’ He greeted each one with a warm handshake.

  The captain relaxed and stood down his men, who resumed monitoring from the bridge.

  ‘Come this way, quickly now. Let us have a drink of something warm, and we can talk,’ Biran invited.

  ‘That sounds most welcoming, thank you.’ Menin tipped her head.

  Lord Biran led them through familiar palace grounds and into the heart of the building via the main steps, now clear of bodies and like most other things around them undergoing some repair.

  ‘The damage from your … little battle wasn’t as bad as we first thought. Though it will still take some days to fully repair the steps,’ Biran pointed out.

  Inside the palace was warm; warmer than they had known for many days. It was pleasant to be walking amongst palace guards not bent on trying to kill.

  After several twists and turns of pristine marble hallways and lush red carpeting, the lord turned into a medium sized chamber with a dark green painted door. He opened the door using a large central knob and ushered his guests inside.

  ‘Welcome to my study. The king is a little busy at present with some court business. Until his majesty is free, I shall have the honour of entertaining you. Please find a seat, and I shall rustle up some tea.’

  Biran crossed to the far side of his chamber and rang a bell pull that would silently ring elsewhere in the palace.

  The walls of the chamber were lined with bookcases, almost all void of volumes, and only two comfortable couches, a solid desk and chair filled the room. It was lit from above by a multi-coloured glass skylight.

  ‘I apologise that my chambers are not in order. You see, the former resident of this palace saw fit to sell, destroy or burn everything that reminded him of the old regime.’

  ‘I take it you mean Jarek.’

  ‘Indeed. I was in shock upon seeing how he had destroyed my collection of antique books. Some of the finest works by the greatest minds in Rodine.’

  A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. ‘Come,’ Biran called.

  Silently the door opened, and a squirrelly girl of around sixteen entered, her head covered by a white cotton bonnet. She wore around her waist a pinafore to which she gripped as she curtseyed gracefully. ‘My Lord, is there something that you need?’

  ‘Ah, yes, Jen. My guests require tea, and perhaps some cake. See to it, would you?’ Biran waved the servant girl away.

  ‘At once, my Lord.’ The girl left as quietly as she had arrived.

  ‘Jen is a good sort. Her family were killed in the troubles. I took her in, and in return for her service she gets food and a roof over her head.’

  Coinin said nothing. Inside, however, he was screaming. How could you restrict this girl to a life of servitude?

  ‘I treat her like one of my own,’ Biran continued.

  Perhaps you should have adopted her then if that were true, Coinin thought. The arrogance of the man to believe he is doing her anything other than a disservice is laughable. He had no idea why he despised people who used others in this manner, he just knew it to be wrong. In his mind, a person should be paid fairly for their work, and he vowed to seek all instances of slavery in Rosthagaar and stamp it out.

  A short time later, the sound of clinking cups signalled the return of Jen. Coinin crossed to the door and swung it open for the girl who was in the process of balancing a gilt tray in one hand and knocking with the other.

  ‘Oh, thank you, master.’ Jen smiled.

  The teenager crossed to Biran’s desk and deposited the tray carefully there. ‘Would you like me to pour, Sir?’

  ‘No, that’s fine, Jen. I shall see to it,’ Biran replied.

  ‘As you wish, my Lord.’ Jen backed from the room and closed the door with a click.

  Lord Biran busied himself pouring sweet tea into porcelain cups. He handed each of the visitors a cup and then sat on the opposite side of his desk. He placed his feet upon it and proceeded to eat a wedge of carrot cake.

  ‘Thank you for the refreshments, Lord Chamberlain.’ Menin sipped at her tea.

  ‘That’s quite alright, my dear. The least I can do. So, how come you have returned from Manil?’

  ‘Well, there is one other thing we need the king’s assistance with.’

  ‘Go on.’ Biran reached for a second slice of cake.

  ‘We are in need of urgent transport. An emergency has arisen in Rosthagaar, and we require assistance to get home,’ Coinin relayed.

  Biran steepled his fingers. ‘Forgive me, I thought the king had generously given you a galleon to use as transport home.’

  ‘Indeed, Lord Biran. However, the journey home is in excess of a year,’ Menin replied.

  Biran looked puzzled. ‘I fail then to see how the king could assist you further. You have transport.’

  Coinin attempted to hide his frustration behind a smile. ‘Speed is of the essence in this matter. Perhaps, use of one of your airships for a time. We know how much swifter they are than sea vessels.’

  Biran nodded his understanding though looked regretful. ‘I understand your predicament, and sadly if the king had not already declined the use of such a ship, I might be persuaded to help. As it is, even with permission, there are none to be located at present.’

  ‘That is sad news indeed. Might I ask why there are not any available?’ Menin enquired.

  Biran considered the question, unsure if he was permitted to reveal the airships’ use. ‘The king has ordered all such vessels to bring our troops home from foreign lands three days hence.’

  Coinin bashed the arm of the cloth couch with his fist. ‘Perhaps there is another way then.’

  ‘I don’t see how,’ the Lord Chamberlain said.

  Coinin stood and crossed to a large fireplace. Above the mantle, a sizeable mirror hung in an elegant frame. He examined his face, barely recognising himself. He had aged, perhaps beyond his years. Particularly around the eyes. Dark circles of tiredness were prominent there. He was unshaven, having not entertained such trivialities for some time now and he was beginning to grow a pleasing beard to almost rival that of Marrok. ‘King Thymes permitted us the use of the Key of Kalor once before. Do you suppose he may
again?’

  ‘That certainly would resolve your dilemma, though I cannot answer for the king –’

  ‘Perhaps then I can answer for myself,’ King Thymes announced from the doorway.

  No one had heard his arrival and were a little shocked.

  All stood who weren’t already standing and bowed to the king.

  He was resplendently dressed, in the refinery of his position as ruler. A red and green silken robe that ran to his ankles was worn under a thick, deep purple cloak with a white fur collar. It was fastened at the neck by a gold chain, each end terminating in a golden emblem of the house of Thymes. Atop his head, a thin gold band ran the circumference. Dark brown hair had begun to grow back over his bald pate, a sign that the curse of Underworld was indeed broken.

  ‘I heard that you were back in my city. To what do we owe this pleasure?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Your Grace. It is a pleasure to see you once more. However, urgent matters at home necessitate our visit,’ Menin responded in her soft tones.

  ‘What can be so urgent? Please, sit and tell me your tale,’ Riley invited. He closed the chamber door and marched to Biran’s desk. There he poured himself tea and took a bite of carrot cake. ‘Delicious.’

  ‘Your Majesty, we appreciate your time on this matter. Whether you choose to believe our story, rest assured our belief in our tale is unshakeable and we must return home immediately,’ Coinin began.

  Riley joined Coinin at the fireplace. ‘Then tell me what it is you require of me.’

  Several minutes later, Riley scratched his chin. ‘That is a fine tale, whether it is a tall one is your business.’ He stepped over to Menin and held out his hand. ‘One good turn deserves two. I think on this occasion I shall loan you the Key of Kalor. Though, I require something further in return.’