‘It is my duty, Sir. May I suggest you call me Protector?’
‘Is there something wrong?’ Coinin queried worriedly.
‘Absolutely not, Curator.’ The lie stung like a wasp bite to her tongue.
Unconvinced, Coinin sighed and closed his door before walking along the hallway. Aniol followed at a discrete distance.
Coinin’s mind was racing, wondering why Aniol had changed so dramatically. They had become very close friends, more so than just Curator and Protector. Perhaps all my nagging has finally sunken in and … no, it is something else, I just know it.
His thoughts were interrupted by laughter issuing from around the next corner. The laugh was that of Archmage Menin. He had not heard her laugh in quite some time and it was refreshing to hear.
He rounded the corner, and Zaruun was standing by, his breastplate shining like his own, with Menin chatting with King Thymes. They appeared to have just shared a joke and in the final stages of laughter.
‘I must remember that one, Your Majesty. I know a good few friends who will enjoy it.’ Menin chuckled.
Riley’s attention was drawn to Coinin and Aniol. ‘I see the rest of your party has arrived.’ He smiled and held out a hand for Coinin.
Hands were shaken, and nods given.
‘It has been a pleasure having you as my guests, and I will be sad to see you go … again.’ Riley held out a small white ash box with a domed lid.
Coinin took it and bowed his head briefly.
‘The Key of Kalor is now yours. Guard her well. The Kingdom of Rodine has no need for such a device.’
‘Are you certain?’ Coinin gaped at the generosity.
‘Beyond certain. Your work, protecting the weak, is far more a noble task than ruling a kingdom. Any assistance I can provide to such lawful people, I will do so. This is a small token and besides, what easier way to visit occasionally?’
‘You are beyond generous, Your Majesty,’ Menin said.
‘Dear lady, you saved my Kingdom. This is the least that I can do.’
‘It is certainly much faster than an airship.’ Coinin smiled.
The king shook his head and grinned. ‘Go on, be off with you and don’t leave it too long between visits.’
‘We won’t, I promise.’ Menin waved as they exited the main entrance to the castle and headed down the marble steps and into the courtyard below.
Coinin took one last look around and opened the box containing the key. Within a blue silk inner, the key lay waiting. He picked it up and held aloft a gold ring shining in the little sunlight that had penetrated the rain clouds. A sapphire the size of a chicken’s egg was embedded within its frame.
A card pinned to the inside of the box lid read, Hold your breath and concentrate on your destination.
‘It says here, we need to hold our breath and focus on the destination. Seems easy enough.’
‘General Jericho did the same; Zaruun and I just held on to him and did likewise,’ Menin agreed.
‘Gather in then and hold on.’
Aniol, Zaruun and Menin held on to a section of Coinin’s clothing. Aniol, unhappy to do so.
‘I hope this works,’ Coinin prayed.
Each traveller took a deep breath and held it. Coinin concentrated on the temple, and suddenly as if they had never been there at all, they vanished in a puff of air.
King Riley Thymes smiled from his position in the palace’s open doorway. ‘Good fortune,’ he murmured.
THE GOLDEN TEMPLE
The travellers landed softly on lush green grass, soft and neatly cut. Releasing their breath in a rush, they gulped in fresh air gratefully and looked about them. It was night at the temple, and everything was peaceful. The silence was broken only by a creature snuffling through nearby bushes.
‘We made it,’ Coinin said, stating the obvious, though he checked everyone had their own limbs and had arrived safely.
Within seconds, several temple guards with long spears surrounded them. ‘Who goes there?’ cried one.
Coinin stepped forward and into the light of a torch. ‘It is I, the curator, and Archmage Menin.’
Each guard snapped to attention upon recognising him. ‘My apologies, Curator,’ the guard offered.
‘There is no need to apologise. Your response time is excellent. Well done,’ Coinin praised.
The guard beamed for a second, remembered he was at attention and stopped.
‘Oh, stand easy,’ Coinin ordered. ‘Back to your posts.’
‘Aye, Sir.’
The squad turned heel and vanished into the darkness.
‘They have keen eyes,’ Coinin commented.
‘Not really. The protection charm surrounding the temple will have alerted the guard,’ Menin advised.
‘Oh, well, it is splendid to be home at any rate.’
‘We can agree on that. We should meet with General Jonjo immediately,’ Menin announced.
Coinin nodded. You read my mind.’
‘Not today,’ Menin winked.
They headed towards the temple in the distance, a structure consisting of fine panels of gold that overlaid the finest of woods. At the heart was a glass dome. From this a column of pulsating light emitted, and around it spiralled a red stream of misty light carrying the prayers of the faithful.
At each corner of the building a high tower reached skyward, and from this hung vertical banners that depicted a paw print of a wolf, surrounded by a sun disc. The pathways were of solid marble, and a low marble wall ran alongside the path that enclosed finely cut lawns, where fountains gushed clear water.
They continued along the path and were greeted by the familiar dozen marble statues depicting brothers and sisters, old and new, in heroic poses.
Coinin stopped for a moment to admire a statue of his brother Marrok, newer than the rest. It was free of moss and lichen and stood out proudly in the moonlight.
Jonjo, a tall, gangly man with receding grey hair and deep frown lines was already waiting for them. Word had reached him quickly, and he was on edge awaiting news. He stood at the main entrance of the temple and watched as the four travellers climbed the steps and stopped before him.
‘I’m glad to see my temple is still in one piece.’ Menin smiled.
‘It is so good to have you back.’ Jonjo grinned. ‘But where is everyone else.’
Coinin looked solemn. ‘We have much to discuss, and I’d rather do that indoors.’
‘Of course, Curator.’ Jonjo tipped his head.
The group entered the Golden Temple and into the pillared hallway. Nothing had changed since they had been gone, and the familiar paintings depicting various diverse battle scenes still adorned the walls.
The temple was quiet at this time of night, thankfully, or they may have been accosted at every turn by well wishers.
‘I assume you wish to meet in your chambers, Archmage?’ Jonjo enquired.
‘That will be sufficient,’ Laliala nodded.
Through the great hall they walked, their boots echoing around the walls and onto the far side, where they entered a single doorway. A small corridor beyond led to a second door that opened into the archmage’s chambers.
Every wall was crammed with portraits in varying sizes of former archmages. Incense burnt in the corner of the room and made the visitors eyes sting. A finely woven rug filled two-thirds of the chamber, and over this sat a large eagle wood desk, decorated along its edges with intricate carvings.
A writing desk against one wall overflowed with parchment and quills, and several chairs dotted the room.
‘Take a seat everyone, we don’t have time for greetings,’ Menin said.
Almost three hours had elapsed during the telling and retelling of portions of their fantastic tale, Jonjo keen to not miss anything.
Jonjo was gobsmacked at the adventures Coinin and the others had endured and shook his head silently.
‘And so you see the need for our return so quickly. What news here?’ Laliala finished.
Jonjo looked glum. ‘I am disappointed that the others couldn’t be here at this time, particularly now. I have grave news indeed. Intelligence report Lordich Secracar has taken the City of Rostha.’
‘What?’ Coinin jumped up. ‘By taken, you mean captured?’
‘Indeed, Curator.’
‘And Hentastum?’
‘Dead by all accounts.’
‘He will not be missed,’ Zaruun added, and this solicited a scowl from Menin.
‘At least Magister Tort’s information was correct. Though that doesn’t bode well for the security of the temple.’ Coinin rubbed his forehead stressfully. ‘He is sure to march on the sanctuary and take it by force, and with so little of us here.’
‘Calm down, Coinin. We will need to verify these facts first hand. I suggest we seek out the underworld elements within the city,’ Menin decreed.
‘That goes without saying, though you will not be a party to that,’ Coinin warned with a stern look. ‘Aniol and I will venture into the city disguised as simple villagers.’
‘I have to object, Curator. Perhaps it would be better served if one or two of my men were to –’
‘As much as I appreciate your concern, Jonjo, two young people will arouse far less suspicion. The matter is settled. If we wish to know Lordich’s plan, I need to get into that city and find a way into the castle to spy on him,’ Coinin said with finality.
‘Are we supposed to sit by and wait for news of your death? I am sure that will be the result if you try to infiltrate Castle Rostha,’ Menin argued.
Coinin looked to Aniol. ‘I will understand, Aniol, if you do not wish to join me.’
Aniol returned his look and appeared undecided for a moment. ‘It is my duty as Protector for the Office of Curator to ensure your safety. I will not abandon you, Sir.’
Coinin nodded gratefully. ‘Thank you, Aniol.’
The young woman nodded and turned away.
‘The way I see it, I have a distinct advantage. There may be a secret way into the castle, but should that have been discovered and guarded, the Key of Kalor should permit us undiscovered entry,’ Coinin pointed out.
‘I don’t think it works like that, Curator. You need to know intimately the location you wish to arrive at. What do you know of the castle interior?’
Coinin stroked his hair and paced the room. ‘I only have familiarity with the small chamber off the throne room, the jail and the throne room itself, unless of course you count the courtyard.’
‘Any of those places could see you caught and captured. You’re going to need inside information.’ Menin pulled at her lip with a finger and thumb. ‘My initial instinct to contact the underground movement is a valid one.’
‘I agree.’ Jonjo nodded in agreement.
‘That leaves the security of the temple down to those who remain. How long will it take for you to be able to order a recall of all troops from their various stations around Rosthagaar?’ Coinin asked.
Jonjo sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. ‘With several riders sent to the four corners of Rosthagaar, I would say a week. We are talking six thousand soldiers marching day and night.’
‘That’s an awfully long time, General,’ Coinin said with a hint of dissatisfaction.
‘I will do my very best to move much quicker than that.’
‘Then do so. I suggest you begin this very minute.’
Jonjo stood, saluted and nodded to the archmage. Without a further word, he left hurriedly and closed the door behind him a bit too forcefully.
‘I think perhaps you upset him,’ Menin said.
‘If that upset him, I’d hate to see how he handles an invasion of the temple,’ Coinin replied.
Menin stood. ‘I think we are all tired. I’d recommend we all get some sleep.’
‘Well, I for one won’t be able to sleep. It was daylight in Rodine just an hour ago. We had just risen from sleep before arriving here,’ Aniol reminded.
‘Ah, of course. Well, I suggest we rest as best we can. Tomorrow we will reconvene and discuss a plan thoroughly.’ Menin gestured to the door. ‘Please, I need some time alone.’
She watched the trio leave and after several moments walked to the centre of her chambers where she dropped to her knees and bent her head in prayer. ‘Lord Rindor, mightiest of all Gods, I beseech you, heed my prayer. I ask that you remove this terrible burden from me. How long must I remain a party to lies and deceit? The truth will out, and I fear then for the safety of Er’ath. If it pleases you –’
Zaruun took his usual station outside of the archmage’s office and bade farewell to Coinin and Aniol.
The young pair walked together through the quiet temple and followed the familiar route to Coinin’s chambers.
‘It feels very strange to be back home, doesn’t it?’ Coinin said.
‘I was just thinking the same thing,’ Aniol agreed.
‘It’s almost familiar, yet unfamiliar. Nothing has changed as far as I can tell.’
‘I know what you mean.’ Aniol glanced at the familiar paintings and decorations.
Coinin stopped walking as he reached the hallway to his offices. ‘This will be fine, Aniol. I suggest you find some way of resting until tomorrow. I’ll see you bright and early.’
‘Very well, Curator.’ Aniol watched Coinin leave, turned on her heel and headed downstairs to the basement. After a short journey through darkened tunnels, she arrived at her destination.
Lit only by oil lamp, the outline of Axl’s study door stood silent complete with a notice pinned to it that read, ‘Axl Thulomn – Cartographer.’ Aniol took a moment to run her fingers over the name and turned the handle to enter.
Aniol retrieved a fire stick from a lantern outside of the study and used it to light a torch within the room. The dancing light cast shadows over the space and from what she could see, a thick layer of dust covered every surface. Inside, everything was exactly as they had left it. The fire had long since died and it was cold and a little damp, the musty smell of old books adding to the atmosphere.
Aniol busied herself preparing a fire and was soon enjoying the warmth. She took a seat on Axl’s leather armchair and wrapped his woollen blanket around herself, taking a moment to smell it, hoping to find Axl’s scent.
There she stayed until morning.
A beautiful sunrise broke the walls of the volcano and cast a warming orange glow across the Golden Temple. The place of worship began to stir and with it various animals. Morning song broke out among the birds and worshippers on their way to morning prayer who chanted or sang melodious tunes.
Coinin had lain awake for almost an hour, watching the sun rise and cast its light into his rooms at it did every morning. He was glad to be home, though he knew there was so much to do. He longed to have Generals Jericho and Marrok to hand for moral support.
How he handled the infiltration of Rostha would determine the future for everyone and, if he should die, then so be it. He would have given it his best effort, and no-one would have been able to take that away from him.
The next twenty minutes was spent washing and trimming his beard, which had become a little wayward. He finished with dressing. He found a simple robe within his wardrobe and donned it. The outfit was completed with a thick leather belt and a fresh pair of boots.
He exited the room, locked the door with a key attached to a string around his neck, and headed for the main stairs. Aniol was nowhere to be found, which was unusual for her. But with so many tiring events happening of late, he figured that she had merely slept in and for once he did not care. His priority was food.
He took the marble stairs two at a time on his way down to the kitchens. He hoped that this early he would be able to find a morsel to eat.
Several worshippers passed by him on the way from morning prayers and ogled him. It was a surprise to see the curator after so long, and they were ecstatic. He greeted each one and shook hands as required, wishing each well before moving on.
Several turns thr
ough marbled hallways later, he arrived at a rarely visited section of the temple. It was warmer here, perhaps due to the bread ovens that were baking the daily bread in the rooms beyond. He ventured to the end of the corridor and opened a plain wooden door there.
Immediately, a bank of steam hit him, and he knew he was in the right location. In the centre of the room, a central stove, with a thick black chimney feeding up through the roof, held several large, copper pans, each bubbling with a variant of vegetable.
Though the steam clouds, he saw a handful of kitchen workers busily rolling dough for bread, chopping more vegetables and preparing game pies for the midday meal.
Coinin stepped through the steam and ducked under a series of ladles and other utensils hanging from a frame connected by wire to the ceiling.
‘Hello?’ Coinin called cheerfully.
‘Well, bless my soul. If it isn’t the curator,’ said a cheery voice.
Activity stopped with a clatter of knives and pans, and all eyes turned to him.
Cook, a grey-haired, kindly faced woman of advancing years stepped forward and wiped her hands upon a white apron she wore. ‘What a pleasure. I am so glad to see you returned to us safely. What can I do for you?’
‘I was hoping that you had something for breakfast. I believe I slept through,’ Coinin replied.
‘Actually, no you haven’t. It’s fasting season. We will not eat until midday.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Coinin remembered the fasting season ran for the first months of the new year and lasted midnight to noon. Have I really been gone that long? he wondered, but then concluded that a year must have passed since they had left to search for Marrok. How can something that feels like months be close to a year? He recounted all that had transpired and realised, in fact, that indeed his calculation was correct. No wonder people were surprised to see him. ‘Thank you for reminding me,’ he finished, holding his stomach, which decided at that moment to rudely rumble with hunger.
‘Anytime deary.’ The old cook smiled. ‘If you’ll be excusing me, I have much to prepare.’
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 113