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

by Harrison Davies

  ‘Finish what I started, of course. Aniol, we have so much to do.’

  Aniol got to her feet and brushed herself off. ‘What must I do?’

  ‘First, we need to tend to Laliala. Then we shall visit my uncle. As you said, I have a feeling he will know where to find my aunt … Marisa.’ The name sounded strange on his tongue; unfamiliar. ‘What if she does not know the real date for the ritual? She would turn up too late. It was Draken who brought that to our attention. It is important we find her in time.’

  Aniol, despite the devastation around her and the sudden loss of Menin, felt heartened by his words. Coinin had a renewed vigour to complete his part of the prophecy, whether it be a truth or falsehood. That’s what she loved most about him, his determination never to give up despite his own shortcomings or learning that everything he knew was a lie.

  ‘Please assist me with Laliala.’

  Saddened and grieved at the loss of Archmage Menin, Aniol and Coinin headed back to where Menin lay.

  Two bedraggled figures stood over the body, one holding the other upright. Aniol was instantly on alert and withdrew her sword, though, secured it away upon seeing the intruders were, in fact, Zaruun and Nethlith.

  Nethlith looked in a bad way; blood had crusted around his eye, and he appeared groggy. Zaruun was also bleeding from the face, and like Nethlith, covered head to toe in dust.

  Zaruun looked extremely grieved, deep furrows on his brow and downturned mouth testimony to that. ‘I failed her,’ he said.

  Coinin walked forward and gripped the older man by the arm and gave a gentle squeeze. ‘No, Zaruun, you didn’t. You did as she asked, nothing more and nothing less. That is all she ever asked of you. Lordich is just too strong. Being there would likely have seen you die also. Now, you can help us take the fight to Lordich. Do this with me, in her memory.’

  Zaruun did not look consoled in any way but nodded. ‘What must I do?’

  ‘Please seek help from a healer and then find Jonjo. Tell him we are to join with the elves. The archmage’s last request was that I seek out the elves, and that is what we shall do,’ Coinin replied. ‘Go now, before Nethlith worsens.’

  ‘As you wish, archmage-in-waiting,’ Zaruun agreed.

  Coinin was taken aback. ‘No, Zaruun. I shall not become archmage. That is not my role to take. Another must take my place.’

  Zaruun looked confused and said nothing as he assisted Nethlith from the debris pile. Coinin and Aniol watched as the pair made their way slowly towards the temple village in the distance.

  ‘You do not wish the archmageship?’ Aniol enquired.

  Coinin leant forward and bit his lip. ‘I do not believe that is my destiny.’

  ‘The curator of the temple has always become archmage upon the passing of the former,’ Aniol reminded.

  ‘Rules can be changed. That is the greatest thing Laliala ever taught me. Besides, I have other plans in mind for when this is over.’

  ‘Care to share?’

  ‘Not right now, Aniol. We must see to Laliala’s body first,’ Coinin replied with a shake of his head.

  He kneeled once again before the archmage and took the Ring of Office from her index finger of her right hand. It bore the emblem of The Brotherhood, and was a simple understated item. He placed it on his own finger, before bending low and rather painfully to gently kiss the woman upon her forehead. ‘Rest well,’ he murmured.

  Together they heaved and struggled to move Menin’s body to a more secure location. Going against everything he was advised, he led Aniol to the most secret of locations, known only to him now that Menin had passed to the other plane.

  He asked Aniol to turn away while he activated the wolf statue’s button in the garden fountain. As before, the spiral stairs led down into the darkness.

  Coinin could see that Aniol was full of questions. ‘No time Aniol, but know this. Beyond is highly secret. No one must know.’

  Aniol nodded, and in silence they followed the steps downward, carrying a fortunately light Menin, and there at the bottom of the stairwell they left the body. It was cool down there and would go a long way to preserving the corpse until they had a chance to return and bury her properly.

  Coinin kneeled beside Laliala and placed his hand upon her chest. ‘I don’t blame you. Rest peacefully.’ He was just about to stand when a glint of red caught his eye, highlighted from a nearby torch. Reaching into Menin’s robes, he withdrew the Rose of Cerathil and gingerly lifted it over her head. He placed it over his own and tucked it inside his shirt.

  ‘Come on, we should leave, and remember to never discuss this place.’

  Together they held each other as they exited the space, taking a moment to look back and say silent goodbyes.

  SEEKING ANSWERS

  Draken had trawled the city looking for work and to secure lodgings. Meone had insisted as part of their blossoming relationship that certain things should be in place. One, that he was working gainfully, and two, that he set up a home for them. It would be improper for them both to reside at the temple.

  He had managed to find work with a fisher captain, though, initially for a trial period. He would maintain this role until something better came along. Aside from being a Brotherhood soldier and caring for his two nephews, he had never done anything else, never considered any other work. Perhaps, with his skill, he could become a city guard and work his way up the ranks. However, with his expertise in the military field, he was sure that he could convince the powers that be of his worth. Tomorrow he would approach the Lord Chamberlain.

  Meone was waiting for him inside a small eatery off the Main Street. She had fallen for his honesty, repentance and sincerity. Was she rushing into things? She was not sure, but no-one had ever shown an interest of a romantic nature in her, and she was warming to the idea of a life that included someone other than Rindor within it.

  The eatery was warm and light thanks to a large set of double windows at the front. She had chosen a table at the window to watch life go by while she waited for Draken.

  The walls held a striped paper, red and white, which had over time turned pink and cream in places, due to the sunlight streaming in through the windows. A serving area against the far wall held tiers of delicious carrot cake and several variants of nettle tea. The eatery had not, in fact, been operating long, and it would take a week or more for the full variety it had once offered to be available, thanks to freedom once again being granted to the city.

  Meone, dressed in a plain grey robe, the hood spread across her shoulders, brightened upon seeing Draken crossing the busy road, weaving his way through foot traffic. At once he saw her and waved with a smile.

  She waved back and stood in preparation for him arriving. A small bell tinkled as he opened the door and entered. Briefly, he and Meone embraced and she invited him to sit.

  Together they sat at the small window table, and an awkward silence ensued. Thankfully, this lasted only a few moments as they were interrupted by a waitress who arrived and poured hot nettle tea into two waiting cups. The cake had already been served, along with forks.

  ‘Is there anything else I can get you?’ a young, friendly waitress asked, pushing her hair covering back over her hair where it had slipped.

  Meone looked to Draken who shook his head. ‘No, this is fine,’ she replied with a smile.

  ‘Very well, enjoy your cake.’

  The waitress left them and walked to the next table, to repeat the same action of pouring tea.

  ‘How did you find looking for work today?’ Meone enquired.

  ‘I had some success. I have been offered a temporary position with a fisher captain. I feel, though, that I may better be utilised assisting the king in matters of city security.’

  ‘A guard?’

  Draken nodded. ‘Perhaps, I am a little old for the donkey work, but I possess a wealth of knowledge from my time as a Brotherhood soldier.’

  ‘That is an excellent idea, Draken.’

  But Draken wa
s not listening. He had stood and placed both hands on the window, peering outside. His eyes followed two figures walking along the Main Street. Two very familiar people. Coinin and Aniol.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ he gasped.

  ‘What is it?’ Meone attempted to look, but her view was blocked by Draken.

  ‘My nephew, Coinin.’

  Meone blanched. ‘Coinin, here? I thought they had left for home already. Let’s see what is happening.’

  ‘I think not, Meone. He made it clear that I was never to darken his door again.’

  ‘Nonsense. You’re with me. He can’t refuse to see you while I’m there. Besides, you know I’m very nosey.’

  ‘You know what they say about curiousness and Felisis?’ Draken half smiled.

  ‘Oh, amusing. You are hysterical. Quickly, now. They have a head start.’ Meone stood and headed for the door, followed by Draken.

  The waitress looked up and put her hands on her hips. ‘Haven’t even touched my cake,’ she clucked.

  Outside in the street, Draken and Meone pushed their way past a throng of people on the hunt for Coinin and Aniol.

  It was Meone who spotted them first on the far side of the road, heading in the direction of the temple. She was faster than Draken and reached the quarry first.

  ‘Coinin, Aniol?’

  Both turned and were immediately relieved to see her.

  ‘Meone. Well met. But where is Draken?’ Coinin asked.

  Before she could reply, Draken entered their vision, breathless. He looked worried.

  Coinin nodded. ‘You are both here. This is good. Is there somewhere that we can talk?’

  Meone thought for a second, weighing up her options. ‘Why, yes of course. Is there something wrong?’

  ‘Very much so,’ Coinin replied solemnly. ‘I’d rather discuss it in private, with both of you.’

  Meone nodded, and Draken looked surprised.

  ‘This way then, my chambers at the temple will serve our purpose.’ Meone skipped away, and the other three followed.

  A couple of minutes later, the small group had entered the temple and felt a strengthening force surround and nourish the mind and physicality. They traipsed through the congregation as it sang a song to Rindor. They kept to the sidelines, heading to the small door at the rear of the temple.

  ‘The temple is heaving with new worshippers since your liberation of the city.’ Meone smiled happily.

  Soon the group had entered Meone’s chambers and were settled in the small room upon whatever chair, stool or surface they could rest upon.

  Meone offered drinks, but Coinin and Aniol kindly refused. ‘I must say, you look very different to how we last met.’ She referred, of course, to their disheveled clothing, covered in dust, grime and blood. Coinin held his left arm in a sling made from a strip of cotton tied at the neck. ‘Has something happened?’

  Aniol looked sad and sniffed, while Coinin tried hard not to break down. He took a deep breath and then let it out. ‘The Golden Temple has fallen.’

  Draken moved suddenly and knocked over a candlestick, while Meone gasped in horror.

  Coinin held up his hand. ‘There is more. Archmage Menin has been slain by Lordich Secracar.’

  Meone screeched, and a clawed hand clasped over her mouth. She shook her head in disbelief.

  Aniol looked to Draken, who she found to be distraught, shaking his head back and forth, his mouth slightly open, with a furrowed brow.

  It took the best part of an hour to recount the tale, with many stops and starts and comforting of Meone, who had taken the news very badly indeed.

  ‘I am so glad you are both alive,’ Meone said finally.

  ‘It was touch and go. I believe my arm is broken.’

  Meone stepped forward. ‘Please remove your arm from the sling.’ Coinin did so, and she placed warm hands over the break in his wrist. She closed her eyes and began to hum. After a short while, a warm and slightly uncomfortable sensation tickled at the break site. After a further two minutes, the warmth receded, and Meone let go. ‘I have rejoined the bone. However, it is still weak. Be careful with it.’

  ‘Thank you, I will. But right now, I need your help, Uncle.’ Coinin looked pointedly at Draken.

  Draken cocked his head. ‘My help? What help could I possibly be?’

  ‘I saved this till last since it is perhaps the most important piece of the whole puzzle. Draken, I need to know where your Sister, Marisa Wulf can be found.’

  Draken gawped. ‘How do you know about her?’

  Coinin considered his answer carefully. ‘I received a vision where both my aunt and grandfather were mentioned prominently. Marisa was said to have been hidden away as a child and trained to slay Death.’

  Draken looked intensely sad. ‘That’s impossible. She … We were told that she died.’

  Coinin looked to Aniol, distraught. ‘If that is the case, then Death has already won, and Er’ath is doomed.’

  ‘I’m curious, you mentioned your grandfather. Traditionally, you have two, and my father has been dead a long time. Three years after I was inducted into The Brotherhood in point of fact. I wonder if your vision speaks of your mother’s father?’

  ‘Could he still be alive?’ Coinin wondered aloud.

  ‘As to that, I do not know,’ Draken replied.

  ‘What do you know of my grandfather?’

  Draken scratched his head. ‘It has been a very long time since I met him. It was only once at your parents’ wedding, in fact. I can’t quite remember his name … wait, I think his name was Aatu. He was a blacksmith, and had a daughter by the name of Anah, though she later changed it to Godwen.’

  Something familiar about what Draken had said was beginning to surface a memory. ‘Why would my mother change her name?’

  ‘If my understanding hasn’t failed me, I believe your grandfather became ill for a time and your mother took over his forge. Not many folks would deal with a woman blacksmith, so she dressed as a man and even took a man’s name, Godwen. By the time your grandfather had recovered, she had met a young Brotherhood soldier, by the name of Ædelmær, and fell in love,’ Draken recounted.

  Coinin jumped up and put his hand to his forehead. ‘I have met this man. He is the blacksmith who created our icebreaker back in Rosthagaar.’

  Aniol and Draken were dumbfounded.

  ‘Though why did my mother not change her name back to Anah?’

  ‘I assume she preferred it, considering that she was a Brotherhood Lieutenant in charge of men. A masculine name would be better suited for her.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Aniol scoffed. ‘Maybe she just liked the name.’

  ‘I find it all very odd,’ Coinin announced. ‘It is good to know that I have a grandfather, but the big question remains. Where is Marisa? Assuming that she is alive and not dead, as you contest.’

  ‘I only speak of what I was told,’ Draken replied, a little offended.

  ‘Then who told you?’

  Draken thought back to his time in The Brotherhood as a young man and his brow creased. ‘I believe it was Archmage Orodor.’

  Coinin nodded decisively. ‘Then it is he with whom I need to speak.’

  ‘How?’ Aniol asked.

  Coinin had not thought that far and drew a blank. ‘I have no idea how Menin communicated with Orodor or indeed how I was taken to speak with them before I became curator.’ Coinin looked to Meone hopefully. ‘Would you know how?’

  Meone thought long and hard. ‘I once remember in my training as a scribe reading a passage in a book that described the process for archmages-in-waiting. I must seek out this volume. Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable and I shall seek it out?’

  ‘Thank you, Meone.’

  Meone nodded respectfully and left the room. On the far side, she closed the door and leant against it. She was still in shock at the events relayed to her over the past hour. ‘Pull yourself together, Meone,’ she whispered to herself and forced herself forward. How was she
going to break the news to the lesser scribes and congregation? She decided to wait. News travelled slowly from Rosthagaar, and it was perhaps better to concentrate on helping the curator first.

  She turned left from her chambers and unlocked a small wooden door there. Once inside the room she lit an oil lamp hanging from the wall and locked the door. In the centre of the bare brick room, a ladder led down into the bowels of the temple.

  As quick as lightning she was on the ladder and travelled down quickly until she reached the bottom. She collected an oil lamp from a small table at the base of the ladder, lit it and held it up.

  The shadows retreated leaving a mesmerising view. Hundreds of thousands of bound volumes, alphabetically arranged, lined shelf after shelf. Many of the books had been shipped from Rosthagaar many years hence and were stored here as a backup should anything happen to the Golden Temple’s Great Library. Thankful for the foresight of Archmage Orodor, she ran her finger along the nearest shelf.

  She knew this section to be numbered zero to nine and moved on to the next row of shelves, where the As began.

  ‘Archmage, archmage,’ she muttered to herself as she fingered each volume. Eventually, via the flickering of the oil lamp, she found the volume she was looking for and heaved it from the shelf. She blew the dust from it and walked with it back to the small table lamp. There she extinguished the lamp and heaved the book and herself back up the ladder. At the top, she unlocked the door and doused the lamp there and exited the room. Locking the door once more, she entered her chambers to expectant faces.

  ‘I believe I have our answer here,’ she said, holding up the volume. ‘On a side note, you will be pleased, Curator, to know that despite what has occurred at the Golden Temple, we possess an almost identical library in the catacombs below the temple for such an emergency. Once the great temple is rebuilt, copies lost in the destruction can be shipped back to Rosthagaar.’

  Coinin nodded. ‘Thankfully, the Great Library still stands, and yet, it is good to know that our history will not be lost,’ he replied, though, inside he cared less than he appeared to. He had a task to perform and replacing lost books would have to wait.