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

by Harrison Davies

  The late afternoon sun warmed him as he crouched at the entrance to a tunnel, effluent running over his shoes and down into a river running parallel to the city wall.

  Satisfied that the coast was clear, he cautiously made his way along the river bed, ignoring the water seeping into his footwear and up the legs of his breeches.

  He would have preferred to have done this at night under cover of darkness, but time was of the essence. The sooner The Brotherhood helped rid the city of Lordich the better. A hundred yards along the river and still out of sight behind a line of bushes, he was able to alight an iron ladder fastened to a tower set into the wall. Quickly he climbed and soon, a little out of breath, he found himself atop the city wall battlements inside a corner tower. He spent a moment to check that he had not been witnessed reaching his new vantage point. Satisfied, he walked along the wall wondering why there was no-one inside the lookout towers or patrolling the wall.

  The path was slippery with moss and still wet from an overnight drizzle. He picked his way carefully to a section of wall that ran next to a cave system from Mount Rostha, the peak of which abutted the city.

  From here, it was a jump from the wall and a safe landing into one of the caves. Quite why this security flaw in the cities defences had been left to remain was uncertain, but all Teneel knew was that it provided an easy route for smuggling in and out of the city, so long as you paid the guard of the night to look the other way.

  He leapt and landed deftly inside the largest cave. To his right, he lifted an unlit torch from a cradle fastened to the rock wall. From a hidden pocket, he removed a striker and clicked the copper handle in quick succession. Sparks flew and eventually caught. The torch sent flaming light in all directions, casting shadows and illumination into the darkest of recesses.

  Familiar with his route, he walked quickly and confidently through a basic hand-hewn tunnel system, careful not to strike his head on the lower sections of the tunnel roof.

  Twists and turns designed to disorientate those unfamiliar with the layout were nothing to Teneel. He had used this tunnel system for most of his life, as boy and man. The quickest route was etched on his brain as surely as he knew the back of his hand.

  After an hour of a steady uphill slog, he came to a small iron door barring his route. He withdrew a strangely shaped key from his pocket, a bronze cross-shaped device that slotted effortlessly into a solid lock built into the door. A quick turn and a satisfied click signified that the way was open. He deposited the key back into his garments and pulled the door to him via an iron circular handle.

  With a creak, the door opened, and he stepped through, carefully shutting the door behind him with a snap.

  After several more turns of tunnel pathways, a bright light emerged from the gloom ahead. Daylight. He smiled. Within a few yards, he was once more outside, this time on the far side of Mount Rostha. Only this time he was considerably higher than when he had started. A little out of breath thanks to the climb, he took a moment to catch it and admire the view.

  Below, the southern peninsula of Rostha was laid out in all its glory. Lush and green and surrounded by a circular waterway, this island was protected from the sea by a natural breakwater made up of the lands surrounding it.

  The sun was low in the sky, and the clouds had turned a beautiful pink hue mixed with a dash of red and orange.

  A thin pathway led up the side of the mountain and this Teneel followed for several hundred yards until he rounded a section of rock and his destination lay before him.

  A large part of the mountain not visible from below had been cut out of the rock and in this place a small, wooden house had been erected, its roof angled to permit water to run away quickly. A single large window looked out over the lands of Madorine and Westeroe in the distance. A fire was burning, evidenced by both the smell of woodsmoke and a thick cloud of the same coming from a chimney pipe cut into the left of the building.

  Several furs hung out to dry on handmade racks and to the right of the building a raised vegetable bed had been planted. Green shoots of parsnips and cabbage had begun to sprout, hardy winter vegetables which were a delight to any taste bud.

  A hoe, shovel and rake leant up against a simple doorframe, the door of which was open. Calia was there sweeping the floor with her back to him.

  The old woman, wise even beyond her advanced years, showed signs of a hard life. Scars from various encounters with enemies of the city littered her body, mainly the tops of her arms. Her frame, no longer slight like that of a much younger woman, had increased with age. She was slow and methodical in her movements, a sign that her bones were brittle now.

  ‘Are you going to stand there gawping all day?’ Calia asked suddenly.

  Teneel looked shocked. How had she known he was there? ‘How –’

  ‘You make more noise climbing that pathway than a herd of bull elephants. I thought you were supposed to be a thief.’

  Calia turned, and Teneel noticed immediately that the old woman had not covered the socket where once an eye enjoyed the comfort of being firmly embedded.

  Calia noticed his recoil and frowned. ‘You’d best come in then. There’s nettle tea on the boil.’ She shuffled indoors and stood the brush to one side of the door.

  Next, she removed a plain black pinafore from over her head and threw it over a chair in the corner of the one-roomed building.

  Teneel joined her in the chamber and marvelled at what a simple existence she lived. Wanting nothing and requiring less. The left of the room was devoted to a kitchen of sorts and the right a living area with a basic wood framed bed and a comfy armchair for reading. The only thing she seemed to possess in abundance was books, piled high beside the chair.

  He crossed to a blacked stove and touched the kettle sat atop the warming plate and determined it was hot enough to pour. He delved into a cupboard above and searched out two cups.

  Calia moved in then and snatched the cups from Teneel’s hands. ‘The day you can make nettle tea as I can is the day I give up and die. Go and sit yourself down.’

  ‘Mother, I –’ Teneel began, but stopped abruptly. His mother was one woman you would not dare to argue with.

  Being polite, he instead crossed to the bed and sat upon its woollen covers, feeling the bed move and creak.

  Shortly after that, Calia handed him a cup of nettle tea and to his relief had covered the gaping hole in her face with a patch.

  Calia perched in her armchair and looked at her son quizzically.

  ‘When are you going to move from this place, mother?’

  ‘Do you wish me to live in a sewer like yourself? Hantestum took my eye and banished me from the city, so I guess I shall die here.’

  ‘Then you will be pleased to know that Hantestum even now swings by the neck above the battlements of Castle Rostha.’

  Calia gave a sigh of satisfaction and closed her eye. After a moment, she reopened it and locked it firmly on her son. ‘What happened that he should enjoy such a glorious ending like that?’

  Teneel recounted the tale of Lordich Secracar’s invasion of the city.

  ‘Lordich Secracar is not a name I have heard in many a year, and here we all thought him dead.’ Calia shook her head in disbelief. ‘Why Rostha?’

  ‘A strategic advantage. He is now but a short step from The Brotherhood Temple. His purpose has always been to wipe The Brotherhood from the face of Er’ath.’

  ‘It will be a sad day indeed if that were to happen.’

  ‘Even now The Brotherhood is seeking a way to counter him. They seek a way into the castle undetected. Is there such a way?’ Teneel studied his mother.

  ‘The information I possess is to be used only for The Brotherhood, do you understand? If I hear tell that you have used it to enter the castle in the dead of night to steal –’

  ‘I promise, Mother, that I shall steer well clear of Castle Rostha. I value my neck,’ Teneel replied.

  ‘There is a secret passageway that leads directly t
o the Throne Room. All captains are entrusted with the information should the need for an evacuation arise. Note, though, that the route is protected by a powerful magic set in place by Archmage Soliath Wulf during its construction. You can exit, but to enter the castle via this route is impossible.’

  ‘The curator will not best pleased.’ Teneel sighed.

  ‘I am sorry that I cannot be of more help, son. Perhaps there will be a way through for a member of The Brotherhood.’

  ‘It’s fine. He shall just have to find another way in.’

  ‘Still, it might be prudent to offer your curator a map of the passageway entrance. Here, let me.’ Calia spent several minutes drawing a map on a piece of parchment she had laid upon a small table on the other side of her chair. Every so often she dipped a quill into a jar of black ink and scratched at the sheet. Eventually satisfied, she blew onto it to dry the ink and wafted it in the air to be entirely sure.

  Teneel rose, downed his tea in one gulp and gave his mother a warm hug, kissed her on the cheek and handed her the cup. ‘I love you, Mother.’

  ‘And I you. Now take this to your friend.’ Calia handed the parchment to her son, who promptly rolled it tight and hid it amongst his garments.

  Several seconds later, he was gone.

  ‘You don’t think that he is laying a trap for us, do you?’ Aniol asked Coinin.

  ‘I doubt it. These people don’t want Lordich here any more than we do.’ Coinin shrugged. ‘Eat your soup, we shall find out soon enough.’

  Aniol swirled her spoon in the carrot filled liquid. It was delicious but she was just not hungry. ‘You are very calm.’

  ‘I have been prepared well by Archmage Menin. I have no reason to doubt my abilities.’

  Arrogance doesn’t become you, Aniol thought. ‘Do you really believe that we can beat Lordich?’

  ‘If we do not, then all hope is lost. He holds the path to the Tower of Elyia. We need those keys to access the tower and perform the ritual. We must do all that we can, despite what fate befalls us. Should I fail, another must take my place.’

  ‘You are not going to fail, the prophecy foretold these events,’ Aniol reminded.

  ‘True, though I have a horrid feeling in the pit of my stomach that something is awry, and should I die –’

  ‘You are not going to die,’ Aniol thundered.

  People around them looked up curiously from their pursuits.

  ‘Can we change the subject please?’ Coinin pleaded.

  ‘Gladly. All this talk of death is unnerving.’

  Coinin placed the soup bowl beside his stool and stood. He held out his hands towards the fire and felt its warmth revive him. The dank and unpleasant nature of the sewer had a poisoning effect on the mind. The smell he had grown accustomed to, but still, he wanted out of there as a soon as was possible.

  ‘I hope you two are enjoying the soup. It’s my mother’s recipe,’ Teneel declared out of the darkness.

  Coinin whipped around at the sign of the voice, suddenly concerned that Aniol may have been correct, and he would find himself face to face with a band of soldiers.

  Teneel, however, was alone and Coinin relaxed. ‘Do you have news?’

  ‘I do, though, perhaps not the best.’ Teneel dug into his clothing and withdrew the map given to him by his mother. ‘This is a map to a secret passageway into the castle.’

  ‘That is great news indeed.’ Aniol clapped her hands.

  ‘Perhaps not. My m … Calia reports that the entrance was sealed by an ancient magic from a mage by the name of Soliath Wulf.’

  ‘We know of him. The founder of our order.’ Coinin nodded. ‘A magic seal, you say? I wonder if I would be able to circumvent it. We can but try.’ He opened the map and realised that he had never read a map and therefore passed it to Aniol who had more experience with such matters.

  Aniol took it with keen interest and held it under torchlight. The flickering light revealed a very detailed map of the city and the surrounding countryside, from the Mount of Rostha on the right to the waters nearby. Aniol traced her finger along a dotted line that depicted a route from the city, along the eastern wall and to the rear of the city. Intercut into the map was a second drawing at the bottom right that showed a circular rock formation consisting of a dozen standing stones. One of the stones had been clearly marked with an ‘X’. ‘This seems easy enough to find,’ Aniol announced, and rolled up the map once more.

  ‘We should set off immediately,’ Coinin declared eagerly.

  Teneel raised his hands in caution. ‘Perhaps you should wait. You were fortunate to get into the city undetected, but there is a curfew in operation from sundown. I would make my escape under cover of darkness.’

  ‘He speaks wisely, Curator,’ Aniol agreed.

  ‘Very well, we shall rest up until gone midnight.’

  Coinin was engrossed in meditation when Aniol roused him. He opened his eyes, and it took a moment for them to focus. He blinked and looked about him. It was still dark except for flickering torches. ‘Is it time?’

  ‘It is indeed. Are you ready?’ Aniol cocked her head.

  Coinin rose from his cross-legged position and stretched. He then found, to his annoyance, that his ankle decided to flare up with pain, a reminder to him that Death was ever present and should not be underestimated. He hobbled around for a few minutes to loosen the pained appendage. After several more minutes, it did eventually permit him to walk upon it pain-free. He made a vow never to sit cross-legged again, particularly if his weight was bearing on his ankle. ‘Have you seen Teneel?’

  ‘He wishes us well, but unfortunately had to leave. He said there were a few matters he needed to attend to,’ Aniol replied.

  ‘Then let’s go.’ Coinin gestured for Aniol to take the lead.

  Both Aniol and he collected torches and by firelight made their exit the way they had come, carefully avoiding the worst of the effluent underfoot.

  Soon thereafter, having extinguished the torches but keeping them on their persons, they walked as quietly as possible from the alleyway and through the city, ever vigilant of patrols.

  Thankfully, all was quiet. Barely a window held a candlelight and the moonless night afforded them an uneventful passage through the back streets of the city.

  They stopped briefly to check around the corner of the last house before the city gate and listened. Oddly, no guards patrolled, and no sound was heard from marching boots or metallic objects such as swords clanking together.

  ‘I say we make a run for it. The sooner we are out of the city, the safer we will be,’ Coinin whispered. ‘Ready?’

  Aniol nodded, and they both ran full tilt towards the hole in the wall and rock pile they had used to gain entry to the city. It had not yet been repaired, and so without any hindered efforts they both hopped through the gigantic hole and stood panting on the far side.

  ‘I don’t get it, where are the guards?’ Aniol wondered aloud and looked back at the city gate standing upright between two downed sections of the wall.

  Coinin shook his head. ‘Perhaps Lordich is too confident in his forces to worry about attackers.’

  ‘Then where is his army?’

  Coinin frowned and scratched his head. ‘That, I do not know.’

  Several seconds later, he and Aniol were walking briskly along the slippery wharf towards the west of the city wall. They headed through the grove of trees where they had first arrived and pushed on through a series of sharp needled bushes until they broke through and found themselves walking along the eastern wall of the city.

  The night air chilled them, and the going was rough. Rocks and stones threatened to twist an ankle, and so the journey was slow.

  Aniol stopped suddenly, causing Coinin to bump into her. ‘Shh,’ she hushed. ‘There’s movement out there.’

  Coinin peered into the dark, and even though his night vision had improved, it was all but useless to anything other than close up.

  ‘My sword, quickly,’ Aniol barked
.

  Coinin fumbled inside his sack and withdrew his protector’s sword. He handed it to her, and she deftly removed it from the scabbard and stood there in silence, listening.

  Coinin heard it, a pattering of feet not too far away, though he knew instinctively that it was clawed feet scraping across gravel or rocks.

  ‘Stay behind me, Curator,’ Aniol ordered, and Coinin obeyed.

  Aniol sniffed the air and knew her enemy was closer than she’d thought. The unmistakeable smell of wet fur threatened to make her sneeze.

  Out of the darkness, a howl cut into the night and froze Coinin’s blood. Wolves. Just how many was the question.

  ‘You are not fighting this alone, Aniol.’ Coinin stepped from behind her and stood shoulder to shoulder with her and awaited the threat head on.

  ‘Then give us some light.’

  Coinin nodded and was, for a moment, unsure what to do.

  ‘We need light now!’ Aniol screamed at him.

  Shocked out of his hesitation, he held his hands several inches apart and closed his eyes in concentration. With barely a moment passed, a ball of light energy floated between his fingers and cast a glow several feet away. Momentarily blinded, he raised it above his head, and the dark scene before them was lit sufficiently enough to give them advanced warning of incoming threats.

  Excited howls and yelps accompanied snarls and growls. They were being circled by a pack of wolves, and any moment now the nerve of the pack leader would be bolstered by his desire for food and the troop would attack.

  ‘Get ready,’ Aniol called, her voice higher than normal.

  ‘Wait, I’m not ready,’ Coinin replied and noticed a tree in the distance. Without a second glance, he cast his ball of energy towards it where it exploded across the breadth of the tree and burst into flames. With sufficient light now cast at a greater distance, he looked to Aniol. ‘Now, I’m ready.’