Menin remained silent and glared at him. After a moment, she hung her head and sat back in her wooden chair. ‘The voices have spoken and confirmed.’
‘Then you will comply and become my second?’ Coinin asked quietly.
Menin sighed unhappily. ‘I will.’
Coinin relaxed and resumed his seat. He hid his satisfaction at having won his first battle with Menin, and for once showing her the way forward. ‘The plan is simple. Aniol and I will use the Key of Kalor to travel near to the gates of the city. From there we will blend in with anyone going in, perhaps traders or fisherman.’
‘Why don’t you use the key to materialise within the city?’ Jonjo asked.
‘It’s a good question and one I thought about a lot. We just do not know what forces there are in the city and who is watching what. If we suddenly appeared in an alleyway and someone saw, that would be difficult to explain,’ Coinin reasoned.
‘Reasonable enough,’ Zaruun agreed.
‘From there we will attempt to meet up with our friends in the underground,’ Coinin finished.
‘I believe your plan to be vague,’ Menin said quietly.
‘Would you rather sit back and do nothing?’
Menin’s silence said it all. Despite her objections, Coinin’s plan was the only recourse available to them.
‘Then it is settled. Aniol and I will leave within the hour.’
Aniol and Coinin stood on the main steps of the Golden Temple. The sun was high in the sky and warmed what should have been a winter air. It was peaceful and void of worshippers. Coinin had deliberately chosen this hour to leave since most people would be taking early afternoon prayers.
Right on cue, Menin, Jonjo and Zaruun marched from the open temple doors and greeted Aniol and Coinin with nods.
‘I see you took my advice and shaved, but what are you wearing?’ Menin said.
Coining rubbed his hairless chin and looked down at his garments. He had procured from Master Ignatius leather breeches, plain cotton undershirts and leather waistcoats, one for Aniol and him. Wrapped around his neck, he wore a red neckerchief and carried over his shoulder a hessian sack with food, water and Aniol’s sword. On his hands, he wore fingerless gloves and to finish the look of a simple country boy, he wore upon his feet a pair of brown, pig leather, ankle-high boots, his big toe sticking out from one.
Aniol held an old beat-up leather satchel and carried a long pole. It was, in fact, a spear, though the head had been disguised with a covering of cloth.
‘I think we look country enough.’ Coinin smirked.
Menin shook her head in disbelief. ‘Well, I’m pleased that your leathers are different colours.’
‘I for one think you look good. However, I say you need to dirty yourself up a little. You are too clean. I mean, look at your nails, not a sign of dirt under there,’ Jonjo pointed out.
Coinin looked at his fingers and had to agree. They were far too clean and would have aroused suspicion based on that fact.
‘I suggest you visit the ash pile behind Master Ignatius’s vineyard,’ Jonjo added.
‘That’s a good idea.’
‘It should be. In my younger days, I infiltrated many a city on missions.’ Jonjo smiled happily. ‘It pays to know –’
‘Yes, yes, General. We don’t need your life story.’ Menin shook her head. ‘Curator, Protector Aniol. Please be safe. We shall see you soon.’
With that, the three turned and left Aniol and Coinin alone on the steps once more.
Coinin exhaled, and Aniol stood awkwardly.
‘She is angry with you, isn’t she?’ Aniol asked, referring to Menin.
‘She will get over it. I guess having lost an argument does not agree with her. Come on, let’s find the ash pile.’
They took one last look at the temple grounds from up high and stepped lithely down the steps towards the vineyard. As they passed through the dormant plants, Coinin remembered when he had first arrived at the temple as a much younger and naive boy, how lush and green this area was. Chock full of grapes, the whole area was teeming with life. Winter was coming, that was evident.
Master Ignatius was nowhere to be found outside of his workshop, and neither was Cooper. The pair ventured behind the building and located a huge pile of ashes gathered from the fires of the temple. Ignatius swore by it as a fertiliser for his crop. Coinin wasted no time and hopped inside a wooden frame that held the ashes and rolled about in the ash, dug his hands deep and rubbed them as clean as he could. Satisfied he had left enough grime about his person, he assisted Aniol into the pile. She was more reserved and covered selected parts of her clothing and dirtied her nails.
She finished and jumped down from the frame and looked Coinin up and down. With a chuckle, she said, ‘I think perhaps you overdid it a little.’
‘Too much?’
Aniol shook her head and smiled. ‘Here, let me.’ With her hands, she patted and rubbed excess ash from his clothing and hair. A cloud of ashes surrounded them, and they both ended up coughing.
‘That’s enough now.’ Coinin held his arms up.
Aniol stopped and dusted off her hands, which she then wiped on her undershirt. ‘Yes, that looks much better.’
‘Excellent. I think we have wasted enough time, don’t you?’ Without waiting for a response he withdrew the Key of Kalor from a waistcoat pocket and held it between them. ‘Ready?’
Aniol nodded. ‘When you are.’
‘Hold on to me and take a deep breath.’
Aniol took hold of Coinin’s arm and took a deep breath which she held.
Coinin did likewise and closed his eyes tight. He visualised his destination as clear as if he were there.
Nothing happened, and it took several seconds for the realisation to hit that the Key had discharged its energies and sufficient time had not elapsed for it to recharge.
‘Damn, we can’t use it,’ Coinin fumed. ‘Two days have not passed.’
‘We should seek out the archmage then,’ Aniol offered.
Hurriedly, Coinin and Aniol raced through the grounds and found Menin looking forlorn. She snapped back to herself as the pair approached. ‘What are you two doing here? I thought you’d gone.’
Coinin held the Key aloft. ‘It’s drained. Though, I don’t understand how. We should have been able to get two trips per use.’
‘Perhaps its proximity to Rodine enabled it to work that way. Maybe we are just too far away,’ Aniol offered reasonably.
‘I doubt that,’ Menin argued. ‘I used it to transport Zaruun, Jericho and me to Underworld.’
‘Maybe it’s damaged,’ Aniol said.
Coinin turned the Key of Kalor over and peered at it closely. ‘I don’t see anything wrong.’
For the first time known to Coinin, Menin cursed. ‘What now?’
‘Could you not transport us?’ Aniol suggested.
Menin pondered and then shook her head. ‘I don’t think that wise. After all, how will you return?’
‘With the Key of course. I’m hoping it’ll be charged by tomorrow when we plan a return,’ Coinin replied.
‘You know I told you time and time again to practice the transportation spell.’ Menin frowned unhappily.
‘I know, I’m sorry, I’ve just never got it right.’
‘Well, I guess there is no choice.’ Menin pursed her lips. She set about removing her boots and walked onto the crisp green grass at the side of the footpath. Feeling the blades tickle her feet, she immediately began to concentrate. ‘Please, you two stand before me and hold hands.’
Coinin and Aniol looked slightly uncomfortable as they did so but complied and stepped before Menin who moved forward a pace and held each by a shoulder. ‘I have not done this in years, let alone transported two individuals. So please remain quiet and close your eyes.’
Menin closed her own and took several deep breaths through her nose and her brow furrowed as she concentrated deeply in drawing the elemental forces through her feet and into her
body. The air around them began to buzz lightly, and a swift breeze kicked up dust, and it wasn’t too long before both Coinin and Aniol felt light headed and rose several inches from the ground. Unsupported, they vanished with a whoosh of air and a bright white light.
Menin fell to her knees, exhausted by her efforts. ‘Good fortune,’ she managed to say before Nethlith raced to her aid.
ROSTHA
Hidden from view, Coinin and Aniol materialised in a small grove of willow trees to the right of the harbour wall, hidden in shadow.
It was eerily quiet, aside from the slap of seawater against the dock and the odd cry of a gull. Several boats were bobbing on the water, and the area was devoid of fisherman. Further out into the harbour three large warships headed towards the exit of the waterway.
Further along the dock near the main gates to the city, there was some activity. Coinin and Aniol cautiously made their way towards the city entrance, and on closer inspection, the commotion turned out to be dozens of residents clambering over the rubble in an attempt to escape the city.
Gaining access to the city was far easier than Coinin had hoped. He and Aniol slipped unnoticed through a man-sized hole after scrambling over a pile of stone rubble.
On the far side of the wall, things looked different to how they had remembered them. Not too far away, a stinking pile of dead bodies had been left to rot in the sun. Flies buzzed in their multitude around the corpses, and a pack of dogs sniffed excitedly at the remains.
The smell was overwhelming, and so Coinin and Aniol vacated the area immediately. They walked up the Main Street, aware as always of the incline. Around them, dozens of lower city dwellings were now piles of smoking rubble. A fire had sped through this section of the city and had only been brought under control by demolishing a series of houses further up the Main Street.
Bedraggled and hungry, several homeless individuals scoured the remains of their homes, seeking anything they could claim of their former lives.
Farther up the street, statues of King Hantestum had been reduced to piles of dust and marble debris, the odd body part remaining intact.
The air was sooty and clung to the back of the throat like the coating of ash Coinin had ingested not so long ago. In the distance, they could see a militia of orcs patrolling the street, sending anyone in the vicinity scurrying away in fear.
‘We should get out of sight before that patrol arrives,’ Aniol urged, and headed right to where a series of buildings had survived the blaze.
Coinin followed quickly and ducked out of sight into a dark alleyway just as a second patrol exited a building on the opposite side of the street and headed their way.
‘Quickly, now. This way.’ Aniol yanked at Coinin’s arm.
Both ran along the wet alleyway, being careful not to slip on the stone cobbles. They ducked and sidestepped detritus, crates and the odd person to ensure that they were as far away from the patrol as possible.
Eventually, they stopped, having taken a circuitous route through the mid-city dwellings. Here the homes were larger and less crowded. Still, several overhung the street and darkened the area. Rope hung between buildings upon which clothes had been hung to dry. Below, filthy children had been set to work cleaning pots and pans in the street from a large wooden vat filled with water. The suds were white, but the water was not.
Aniol shuddered at the thought of a dirty plate holding her next meal.
Farther along, things were a little better, but still, dogs roamed free searching for scraps and growling with bared teeth at anyone who got near. The wooden dwellings had been reverted to more expensive stone versions, with shuttered windows and a lick of whitewash here and there.
It was still crowded and seedy, just less so.
‘We should find a route down into the sewers,’ Coinin declared.
‘We can’t be too far. There’s a grate around here somewhere,’ Aniol reminded.
Coinin pointed to an alleyway not far away. ‘I think it was down there.’ He walked briskly towards a darkened gap between two houses and poked his head around the corner. He turned back to Aniol and waved. ‘It’s this one.’
‘That was lucky.’
‘I think perhaps there is more than one entrance into the sewers. They are, after all, just a series of pipes,’ Coinin reasoned.
True enough, after a couple of minutes spent opening the large metal grate, and clambering down a ladder attached to the wall, they exited into a dome-shaped, red brick tunnel. Aniol lit two torches that were held in iron holders at the sides of the ladder and handed one to Coinin and kept one for herself.
They knew to follow the tunnel south until they reached an intersection where six tunnels exited. Confidently, both headed for the fifth tunnel, the same they had used during their last visit.
Sure enough, on the wall there was a small carving of the outline of a hand with a key shape raised within the palm, otherwise known as the symbol for the underground elements of the city. In this instance, it guided the visitor to the correct place.
After many twists and turns, the pair finally arrived in a barrel-domed space, divided in two for storage and sleeping. Boxes of stolen goods of all shapes and sizes were packed high and almost touched the ceiling.
A few makeshift beds were scattered here and there, and a group of individuals sat around a central fire. Thankfully, the smoke rose high and followed a higher tunnel out to sea.
The residents rose in panic at footsteps behind and whirled around, daggers in hand ready to fight to the death.
Coinin raised a hand and brought his face into the light of his torch. ‘Teneel, we are friends of Hur’al. You may remember us. Coinin and Aniol from The Brotherhood.’
Teneel, a short, muscular man with piercingly green eyes, a scruffy ginger beard and cropped hair stepped forward, dagger still in hand. He looked at each, trying to recognise them through the dirt they had acquired. After a few seconds, he was satisfied. He smiled a toothy grin and slipped his dagger into a sheath on his belt. Lastly, he held open his hands in delight. ‘My Lord, so good to see you. But where is Hur’al?’
Coinin’s expression soured, and he looked saddened. ‘I’m afraid Hur’al was killed in a terrible accident.’
Teneel and the others showed immediate signs of grief, several openly wept and held each other for comfort.
‘I’m sorry for your loss, Teneel.’
Teneel nodded his head solemnly. ‘He was a good man.’
‘That he was,’ Coinin agreed. ‘He is missed. Though you should know he died bravely.’
‘I would have expected nothing less. Tell me, you did not just come here to communicate Hur’al’s passing, did you?’
‘You are perceptive, Teneel. Could we talk privately?’
Teneel looked about him and spotted a dark corner with half a dozen wooden stools stacked neatly. ‘This way.’
By the light of their torches, the trio headed into the darkened corner and obtained a stool each.
‘How have you been coping with what is happening above ground?’ Coinin asked.
‘Things are dire. Yes, the invaders have spared many lives, but have restricted movement and trade. Even we are having trouble creeping about the city as we do. We have foodstuffs here going to waste, that could go to the hungry. It is times like this that you wish Hantestum were still on his throne rather than swinging from the castle battlements,’ Teneel replied.
Coinin felt for the man. Even though Teneel and the others were outlaws, they were originally formed as a group to fight against poverty and the rule of Hantestum. They were driven underground, stalked the city at night, stealing from the more affluent members of the city, and gave what they could to the needy.
‘I’m sorry you have things so bad. We are here to try to ascertain Lordich’s plans and put things to rights.’
Teneel looked perplexed. ‘Just two of you? You are but children.’
‘Nevertheless, we possess certain skills and abilities that will afford us protec
tion should the need arise. We are not here to challenge Lordich. Our mission is to gather information only and report our findings to The Brotherhood,’ Coinin replied calmly.
‘Sounds like a dangerous path to me.’ Teneel looked from Coinin to Aniol. ‘What do you expect that I can do for you? I assume that is why you are here.’
Coinin nodded. ‘I need a way into the castle. A secret tunnel, doorway, anything. Do you know of such a path?’
Teneel sucked in a deep breath and scratched the back of his head. ‘That is a mighty tall order. I am not personally aware of such a thing, but there is one who might be. She is a former Captain of the Guard. Retired ten years since. If she is alive, she would be your best bet for information.’
‘What is her name and where can we find her?’ Aniol asked.
‘That’s the thing. You do not find her, she finds you. Calia is a private person,’ Teneel replied mysteriously.
‘Will you help us or not?’ Coinin huffed, his impatience visible.
Teneel scowled. ‘Of course I will. You were friends with Hur’al, were you not?’
Coinin tipped his head. ‘I apologise. Yes, indeed. What must we do?’
‘You do nothing. Please, rest here, I shall make an exception and visit with Calia.’
‘Then what?’ Aniol enquired.
‘You wait. There is soup if you are hungry, perhaps take a warm seat by the fire. I shall not be gone too long.’ Teneel gripped one of the torches belonging to Aniol and headed into the darkness, the torchlight shining on the ceiling and walls as the only clue as to his location within the space.
He walked quickly and almost silently in his padded shoes, sidestepping little rivers of sewerage, the stench of which breezed past the nose and caused a gag reflex if unprepared.
Teneel wrapped a piece of cloth over his face as he ventured deeper along a wide tunnel. Water dripped from the curved ceiling through holes in the brickwork and soaked his head. Wiping water from his face, he turned down a smaller tunnel, barely head height, and disappeared beyond an iron gateway.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 115