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

by Harrison Davies

  An elf, tall and thin with a single plait to his silvery hair stepped forward. He wore a long gown of flowing onyx over which he wore gold-trimmed battle dress consisting of individually plated sections. An elvish standard comprised of an oak leaf was embossed in gold upon the main breastplate. ‘Human, you are not welcome along this pass. You must turn back and venture to the city by the main route,’ his musical voice, sweeter than honey, declared.

  ‘We wish to pass via this route. We have business to attend to.’ Coinin stood his ground, but thankful all the same that the elf spoke Arrom.

  ‘State your business. In the name of the king.’

  Coinin took that as his cue and stepped forward. ‘To whom do I address?’

  The elf before him stiffened and looked down his long nose with green eyes. ‘My name is Minröld, key keeper of the house of Fardawn.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you. I am Coinin Wulf, Curator at the Golden Temple of Brotherhood of The Wulf.’

  Minröld scoffed. ‘Impossible. You are but a boy. Begone liar before I –’

  Coinin turned and dropped his robe, exposing his back to the stunned elves. Across his skin, a series of wolf claw marks glinted with a silvery shimmer. He reached down for his robe and pulled it back over his shoulders. He faced Minröld once more. ‘I assume you know what these marks are that cover my back?’

  ‘They come only from one who has been touched by the spirit of the wolf,’ Minröld replied. ‘What business do you have here?’

  ‘We come in peace and seek an audience with the great King Aerëndyl Haldìr.’ Coinin stood as tall as he could and looked the elf straight in the eye. The voices in his head rushed forward to feed him the appropriate responses. To anyone who looked on, it occasionally appeared that he had developed a tick. ‘This is not a request; this is an order. I invoke the right of free passage as laid down in the old law from one brotherhood to another. I hereby take control of this border outpost and instruct you to permit us safe passage. You must comply with this order, by official decree from the Office of the Curator, the possessor of the Ring of Office.’ He held his hand aloft for all to see the distinctive ruby ring.

  The elf looked uneasy and put out by the request. The boy had the markings only acquired by a high up official of The Brotherhood of The Wulf, possessed the Ring of Office, and he had given a valid order as decreed centuries before to aid those in distress.

  He loftily bowed his head in supplication. ‘Passage shall be granted. I shall see to it personally that an escort is provided.’

  ‘Thank you, Minröld. I need to speak to the king immediately on a matter of extreme importance.’ Coinin returned the gesture of respect.

  ‘Then it would be an honour for me to guide you to his majesty. If it pleases you, follow me.’

  Coinin and the other visitors followed behind the tall elf who signalled to the gatehouse to open the gates. Seconds later, a clanking of chains disturbed the quietude, and the gates slid apart on rails to reveal buildings and city life beyond.

  Forested sections of the City of Elindra were unlike any that Coinin had seen previously. Not one dwelling was made of stone, rock or brick. Nor did the buildings reside upon the ground. These elves were forest lovers, bonded with nature. However, the deeper they travelled through the forest, a different influence began to take hold.

  Before them at the beginning of a gigantic clearing, an intricately carved gateway opened onto a series of winding steps hewn into a cliff face that overlooked a city of majestic splendour.

  Below, in a natural cove, tall, golden spires from grandiose dwellings reached into the sky and towered over houses, stores and farms.

  A patchwork of fields surrounded the city on three sides before meeting a great stone wall with regular openings to permit access. Elves tilled the land and carted foodstuffs into the grand city.

  The vast city itself was circular and abutted an inlet of a natural harbour, where ships and boats of all sizes bobbed upon clear turquoise waters. The streets, broad and clean, ran in circular patterns and surrounded a many faceted elven palace. It shimmered and glinted in the sunlight, and to Coinin appeared to be constructed from the finest of marbles and semi-translucent crystalline structures.

  The architect of such a building had worked tirelessly to produce such a work of art that it rivalled the Golden Temple for beauty, and perhaps that was the point.

  Detailed filigree and ornately shaped carvings, ornamentation and statues of elven leaders and heroes were visible even from their vantage point. The structure, though massive, appeared not to possess one single straight line. It was both elven-made but looked natural in its setting with tree-like limbs and a trunk making up the core of the building. Should the building have been painted green and brown, Coinin could very well have agreed it would not have been out of place in a forest.

  The rest of the city, however, was in stark contrast, with straight, formal lines and functional structures. Dwellings made from many materials including wood and stone were intermingled between bands of luscious green parks to bring the familiarity of the forest into the city.

  The small group of travellers and their escort made their way down a narrow pathway, intercut at regular intervals by steps covering the steepest parts as it wound its way down the mountainside. As they descended, the air grew warmer, and the rock sheltered them from a breeze that had ventured through the mountains.

  On the way down, they stopped at regular passing places to permit other travellers to venture on the way up from the city. Several such elves carried impossibly large packs of goods upon their backs, yet did not appear tired as a result.

  Coinin turned to Aniol. ‘I thought the elves were supposed to be tall, thin and majestic. That last one was short and overweight.’

  Aniol screwed up her face at his rudeness. ‘The elves were always as you thought until one of their kings saw that the purity of his race was being polluted by other races. He, in some madness, ousted all those deemed not to be of pure blood and forbade his kind to mate with outsiders. Subsequently, due to wars, famine and a widespread disease, many elves were lost. The city and even the society was about to crumble under the weight of so many losses, that the king had to reluctantly repeal his previous law and instructed all those with even a drop of Elvish blood in them to return to the homeland.’

  ‘Hence the variety of shapes and sizes.’

  Aniol smiled. ‘It would be boring if they were all the same. They’re already stiff and joyless.’

  Luckily, Minröld had not heard or appeared not to have heard, and so they continued ever downward.

  The fields below the mountain and to the left were used to grow wheat and rice, whereas the right-hand plots were devoted to root vegetables. Several fenced off paddocks lined the smooth cobbled road into the city, where horses, sheep and pigs were kept. In the distance, Coinin could just make out henhouses. Not that any self-respecting elf would partake of meat. These creatures were merely cared for and offered in trade.

  The city loomed ever closer, and they had to sidestep from the road and into a muddy rut as a horse and cart, complete with bales of hay and a flute-playing elf passed by them.

  Rejoining the road, they stamped muddy boots to rid what they could of the sticky earth and made their way once more towards the city.

  The city walls, hand-hewn from local stone, shone with an almost blinding brilliance. The cream stone held within it microscopic quartz crystals that glittered as they approached, giving the feeling that the whole place was imbued with magic.

  The city gates, strong, iron and tall were open and inviting. All visitors were greeted by a handful of spear wielding guards in red cloaks and silver lined tunics, who watched over the entrants keenly.

  The guards stiffened as Minröld approached, and lowered their heads slowly and respectfully as he nodded to each on passing.

  The city was an explosion of life. Everywhere, elves, young, old, tall, short, overweight and underweight, walked, jostled and strode
in all directions, hands or backs laden with packages. Others carried babies or scolded children who ran in playful circles around their parents.

  Beyond the gatehouse, a spruce-lined street bisected the city all the way to the tree-like palace in the far distance. Horse droppings marred the cobbled road, polished smooth from years of traffic. However, Coinin noticed an elf nearby eagerly collecting said waste with a little handcart and shovel.

  Running parallel with the street, several kinds of dwellings dominated the landscape - three storey brick buildings, simple wooden framed houses, warehouses and what appeared to be several coach houses in direct competition with one another.

  It was all very un-Elvish, Coinin concluded. Though, the reason was clear. The former outsiders had brought their own brand of society and culture with them, and now the city of the elves was forever changed.

  To the left, a handful of stores sold foodstuffs, clothing and hardware. Everything an elf would likely need.

  Minröld ushered them to the nearest coach house where a tall archway within the centre of the building led into a courtyard beyond. The smell of horses was strong here, and with good reason. A dozen stables housed strong, working horses, bred for transport. Brown, black, and grey, the animals exuded power and Coinin felt awed at their size, perhaps half as tall again as the horses he had grown up with as a child. Even Menin’s charger was dainty in comparison.

  ‘The horses are huge,’ Coinin exclaimed.

  Minröld looked at him curiously. ‘A typically human response.’

  Coinin glared at Minröld. ‘How so?’

  ‘These animals are bred to cater to the size of the tallest elf.’

  Coinin snorted. ‘And what of your shortest?’

  Minröld looked down his nose at the human child. ‘They walk or learn to grow taller. The outsiders are no better than foul-smelling scum from the dankest pond.’

  Coinin was aghast. Minröld held such disregard for his fellow elfs and was about to berate the escort, when Aniol gripped his arm, sensing an argument was about to brew.

  His protector shook her head and whispered, ‘Please don’t. It will serve no purpose.’

  Coinin set his jaw and then nodded in acquiescence. It was evident that a racial hatred for the impure elf still existed among the pure elves of the city and indoctrination over the years would be hard to replace with acceptance of something different to the norm. He despised this. To him, all beings were equal in stature, and none should be deemed as worthless.

  He considered the elves to be conflicted. On the one hand, they were happy to abandon the forests in favour of grand cities, yet would not accept their own. Maybe one day, Coinin mused.

  The rest of the journey proceeded without incident, and soon they arrived opposite a magnificent tree-lined park leading up to the palace. Unusually, an imposing wall or secure gate did not surround the palace. Instead, it was open, and elves cavorted and lay openly on the lush green grass. A grey stone path bisected the park and led up to the main entrance.

  The palace’s outer walls were beautiful and shone brightly as the hot sun cast its rays upon them. Tall, thin towers flanked the front of the majestic palace beyond, its many facets glinting in the sun.

  A set of marble steps, accentuated with a finely carved balustrade of oak, curved upwards to the height of three elves and terminated at a solid eagle wood doorway, open and unguarded.

  The reason for the lack of security was evident the moment the small group stepped over the threshold.

  Beyond lay a courtyard glittering with golden columns that held a blue fabric awning which occupied a third of the yard and an oddly bland cobblestone floor. From above, upon battlements, ornately helmeted guards eyed them suspiciously, long bows or intricate spears very much on show.

  Under the canopy, a handful of jubilant city folk played a game consisting of five wooden pins shaped in a diamond formation with a central pin, and an iron hoop. The object of the match appeared to Coinin to cast the hoop and have it fall over the central pin without touching or knocking over the other pins.

  Coin changed hands in some form of bet before the next challenger took aim. The player was unsuccessful and scattered the pins to laughter and derision.

  ‘Come on, Coinin, stop lollygagging.’ Draken shook his head and led the young man away from the gathering.

  ‘I’m surprised to see the palace open like this and city dwellers milling around the grounds,’ Aniol announced.

  Minröld frowned. ‘Today is the festival of lights. We celebrate once a year the founding of our great city. King Tulok was led to this place by a magical source of light, a being that whispered to him the secrets of the universe, about wisdom and becoming one with nature. This was a turnaround moment for our kind. We no longer strove after gold and war; instead, we turned to the arts, flora and fauna care and other intellectual pursuits.’

  ‘I hear tell that the city holds the finest collection of glassware anywhere in the known world,’ Aniol added.

  Minröld appeared impressed, if only fleetingly. ‘Indeed, the artistry of our glassblowers rivals that of our sword-smiths and armourers. Perhaps you will have a moment to view our treasures while you are here.’

  Minröld led them through a high, arched tunnel, naturally formed through a gigantic oak tree that straddled the far end of the courtyard. Tentacle-like roots snaked above them, permitting only a small amount of light through, which dappled the ground.

  As they exited the tunnel, the full majesty of the Elven Palace struck them with awe. It glinted brightly in the sunshine with a metallic quality that contrasted against the natural flora. Here and there, animals skipped, hopped and pranced around the abundant plant life that covered the grounds.

  A stone path wound its way through trees towards the main entrance of the palace. This location did see a substantial guard presence. Two parallel lines of guards stood to attention at the edges of the footpath, sweating beneath their elven armour plate in the heat of the day.

  Minröld ushered them by the guard, and they clambered a set of marble steps and stood before the grand entrance to the palace. A severe looking elf, aged and bent with illness, held up a gnarled hand as if to stop the party.

  Minröld turned to the old elf dressed in a grey tunic and a tri-band of gold that adorned his long silver hair. ‘Ario, now is not the time. I have guests here who seek an audience with the king.’

  Ario waved Minröld off as if batting away a fly. ‘Yes, yes, I am well aware.’ The wizened elf creaked as he leant in closer to Coinin and studied him carefully through clouded eyes. ‘Your presence has been foretold for aeons. Even down to the day and the hour. Or I wouldn’t be here flapping my gums. Welcome, young Wulf. I shall take you to greet the king.’

  Coinin looked to Minröld and the newcomer, undecided.

  Minröld coughed. ‘You can trust the Lord High Warden, Ario. He is the right hand of the king. I shall wait for you here to escort you –’

  ‘That shall not be necessary. Leave us, Minröld,’ Ario croaked.

  A passing cloud of annoyance flicked across the young soldier’s expression before he nodded and retreated down the palace steps.

  The Lord High Warden gave a cheerful grin, showing remarkably white teeth; age it seemed did not stretch so far as to dull them. ‘Follow me, then.’ Ario leant upon an ornate alabaster cane and hobbled through the entrance to the palace proper. His slippers slapped upon a dark oak floor inside a domed hallway. The footfalls reverberated inside the space and announced his presence ahead of time. The hall consisted of a domed roof of red brick and plastered walls that ended just above head height. To these, depictions of past leaders and great battles were adorned, either painted directly over the plaster or hung in giant frames.

  At the far end of the hall, two guards stood to attention and only relaxed once the small group had passed by.

  As the visitors approached a solid eagle wood door inlaid with the depiction of a golden tree spanning both halves of the d
oor, the leaves parted and revealed a spectacularly decorated space beyond.

  The throne room was constructed over three levels and accessed by a central stairway of stone. The three tiers to the room ran from largest in circumference to smallest; the top layer appeared to house supplicants to the court and was packed with elves of all ages and dress. The unique shape permitted everyone to view proceedings below even from a great height.

  Coinin and the others followed Ario slowly down the stone stairwell and arrived at the second tier, where the elderly elf took several moments to find his breath. Aniol observed correctly that this level held court officials and scribes, busily sorting or scribing court papers at large, ink-stained writing tables. Mostly the scribes were elderly like Ario and dressed simply in black robes.

  ‘Come on boy, stop dallying,’ Ario announced, and headed down into the final level, the throne room itself.

  Coinin shook his head and smiled before following the elf painfully slowly downwards. He took the opportunity to glance upwards and noticed that the walls of the court were of stone. Pillars held up each section, ornately carved into the visage of trees, the trunk providing support and branches and leaves offering decorative elements.

  At last, they arrived before the throne, a delicate crystalline form that resembled a tree that had a seat cut into it and branches sprouting over the throne with myriads of individual translucent crystal leaves. Coinin knew instantly that someone had literally transformed a living tree into this crystalline structure by the use of magic. The roots of the preserved tree held testimony to that as they buried below the rock surface of the floor.

  A solemn-faced elf sat waiting patiently upon the throne. He was tall and thin and oozed majesty, mystery and wisdom. He never once took his eyes off the approaching visitors, all the while taking a moment now and then to absently feed a sweet black grape into his mouth.