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

by Harrison Davies

  ‘Douse that flame,’ she yelled at no one in particular.

  Her trusted pilot reached for a pail of water nearby, stumbling with the force of the waves crashing against the hull and tossing the ship like a flag in the wind. He threw the pail of water over the fire, and a satisfying hiss doused the threat.

  ‘I want a fire watch,’ she growled, fighting hard against the wheel that seemed to have a life of its own.

  Every now and then instructions were passed aft as to where it was safe to traverse.

  The waves fought no end to flip the ship and Dalia fought with all her strength to keep the ship upright. The wind rattled around the ship, causing a creaking and cracking that even seasoned sailors would find terrifying.

  Though, eventually, with high precision and only a minor scrape against a rock, Dalia safely guided the ship into a sheltered port, protected by a wall of rock. There, she dropped anchor and sat down on the steps of the forecastle. She sighed with relief, wiped away the rain from her face and ran her hands through her hair, draining it of water. She licked her lips thirstily and stood. Before descending the steps, she turned to Jericho. ‘I assume this is to your satisfaction?’

  Jericho smiled and nodded. ‘I have no idea how you navigated this mouldy old piece of driftwood through those rocks, but you have saved us all, and today you have the thanks of every Brotherhood soldier aboard. Tales will be told of your deeds for years to come, and I have no doubt that you will do your father proud and become the first admiral of our new fleet of ships The Brotherhood intends to build.’

  Marrok pumped a fist in the air ‘To the Captain, three hoorahs.’.

  A chorus of voices hoorah’d the captain, and she blushed ever so slightly. ‘Just doing what I’ve always loved, and I had an excellent tutor. Generals, would you offload the men and equip them to stay on land? The ship’s boatswain and I will need to assess the damage.’

  Marrok took a step forward. ‘No. You need rest, and I insist that you get it. Tomorrow, this tempest may have cleared, only then shall you assess the hull.’

  Dalia looked to Jericho for support.

  Jericho shook his head ever so slightly as to show his agreement with Marrok.

  ‘Very well, Sir.’ Dalia gripped the handrail of the steps and feeling a little faint and a little relieved at the thought of rest, steadied her way to the captain’s cabin and shut the door. There, she stood silently for a few moments contemplating all that she had accomplished. Having navigated treacherous waters in a storm, the like of which she had never seen, to arrive safely in a cove, sheltered and safe. Admiral? I like the sound of that, she thought, before stumbling to her bed and falling atop it. She fell asleep almost immediately.

  AT LONG LAST!

  The morning was tranquil in a small wooden house built amongst the trees on the outskirts of the City of Elindra. The elven king, Haldìr had graciously offered a home and sanctuary to each of the visitors to await the arrival of The Brotherhood hierarchy.

  The truth of the curator’s presence was a closely guarded secret so that Lordich would not learn of it. The Brotherhood visitors had assumed new names and these were used in the presence of everyone except the king.

  Coinin, or Thonrìr as he was known, had never felt so peaceful and loved. He turned his head upon the soft, down pillow and looked at Aniol’s beauty, while she slept: those luscious lips, pale skin, and red hair that cascaded over the pillow and across her shoulder. To peer each day into those deep blue eyes of hers was a blessing and he felt the happiest man alive, though still there were things that troubled him deeply.

  She stirred and muttered something inaudible in her sleep. Coinin smiled and stroked Aniol’s hair lightly. He would let her sleep and wash himself, perhaps then take a walk and mull over things. He crept from the bed, its silken sheets feather light, and pulled on his breeches and fastened the thick, black leather belt. Without boots, he crossed the bare boards of the floor softly and entered a small, yet functional room where he was able to complete his morning ablutions.

  He looked at himself in the hand mirror that Aniol kept beside the wash bowl, and it was if a stranger looked back at him. A well-groomed beard and long, thick hair that fell to his shoulders marked the change in his appearance, but not so strikingly as his physique.

  He had chosen to work, rather than live off the king’s kindness, with a local wood elf. He spent days caring for the trees, whether it be planting, pruning and felling.

  He had gained strong muscular definition to his chest and abdomen, and though he would not surpass the musculature of Marrok, he no longer resembled the scrawny youth of a year before.

  The months had passed with no sign of Marrok and the others aboard the Rodinian ship. The deadline had passed that Captain Dalia had set and this greatly troubled Coinin.

  The elven king had stationed one of his own warships close to the city Port of Rostha, now controlled by Lordich Secracar.

  The ship was hidden carefully on the far side of an outcrop of rock that once made up part of the mainland. Their duty was to maintain a watch for the arrival of the Rodinian ship and divert it to the safety of the elven port. Only the captain, first mate and the watch knew the markings and description of the craft they sought, with instructions to raise a copy of The Brotherhood standard once the ship had closed in distance with the hope of drawing it away from danger.

  Two months turned into three with no sign of the overdue ship. Then, when hope had almost been lost, a dot appeared on the horizon. The first for three months. The watch aboard the sleek elven craft settled his brass spyglass on the dot and waited patiently until he could confirm to the captain that a sighting had been made. Minutes ticked by slowly and the young elf sat atop the mast began to sweat in the heat of the midday sun. He puffed and took off his outer garments and took a swig of water from a bladder.

  Satiated, he glanced up and saw that the incoming vessel was much closer. He raised his glass with expectation that the craft was the one they sought. He desired shore leave to visit his ailing mother.

  He dared hope and opened the lids of his piercing green eyes and sought the vessel through the glass. His heart skipped a beat, and he almost slipped from his perch. It truly was the craft they sought and his breath quickened. I best double check, he thought.

  Scanning the ship once more, he saw in a sudden gust of wind a Brotherhood flag unfurl to reveal the familiar sun disc with a paw print of a wolf embossed in its centre. The colour and description of the vessel matched, though, it appeared even at this distance that it had undergone extensive repairs. There seemed to be a barely functional main mast and sails. Could that be the reason they were so late? The vessel was damaged somehow.

  He decided that it was prudent to now tell the captain the good news and stood. He stowed away his spyglass and turned to face the bridge. With hands cupped to his mouth, he yelled with all his might, ‘Ship, ho!’

  The captain and the other officers looked up to the mast. Captain Krell also cupped his hands. ‘Is she the vessel we seek?’

  ‘Aye, Captain,’ came the response. ‘It be her alright.’

  ‘Raise that Brotherhood standard as far as she will go. We set sail to greet her.’

  ‘Cap’n,’ nodded the first mate, a tall, thin elf. He raced away shouting orders, to raise anchor and sails alike.

  Captain Krell himself was optimistic about success in greeting the other ship. The king would be pleased should the other vessel turn about and follow them home. He had only to say a few words to a General Wulf, and there was certainty that they would reverse course.

  Soon the elven craft was underway, cutting a smooth path through the water as if it were non-existent.

  ‘Rol?’ Krell called to his first mate.

  The tall elf returned quickly to the captain. ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘Begin signalling that other ship, that we are friendly and they should come to a stop so that we may parley with them. Danger awaits them beyond.’

  ‘Ay
e, Sir. I’ll get to it immediately.’

  The mate jogged swiftly forward and reached a wooden crate at the bow of the ship. He tore it open and removed two poles, to which were attached long triangles of brightly coloured cloth. He stood tall and began to signal to the other ship the captain’s words by means of alternating the direction and placement of the flags.

  Aboard the Rodinian vessel, Major Quindil was humming to himself a ditty he had picked up from one of the other men. He, too, had grown a fine beard, though not as neatly maintained. In fact, it was in need of a trim. He, like the others, needed a bath that would last for a week and a clothing change. He just couldn’t wait until he got back to the temple and saw to these things.

  Something ahead caught his eye, and he cocked his head slightly. He swore he saw for just a moment a very familiar image fluttering atop the main mast of a ship heading in their direction. He stood and peered harder over the bow and just made out the shape of an elf waving a set of red and yellow flags in his arms madly.

  Quindil turned and steadied himself upon the bulwarks with his newly carved wooden arm. Such an excellent job the ship’s boatswain had done that it was a truly functional masterpiece. With the aid of an intricate pulley system, he was able to grip and hold items, though heavy objects were problematic. For instance, he wouldn’t be able to wield a sword with it or carry a sack of coal. The device had changed his life for the better, and he would ensure that the boatswain was rewarded greatly at the next inn they came across.

  The revitalised man took confident strides across the deck and towards the bridge, where he sidestepped several soldiers packing kit ready to disembark from their long journey.

  He mounted the steps leading up to the bridge and tapped Captain Dalia’s shoulder. ‘Dalia, I’m certain you’ve seen the elven ship ahead.’ He pointed.

  ‘Of course, what of it?’ Dalia replied.

  ‘If I’m not very much mistaken, it bears The Brotherhood emblem.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘For certain. They fly a standard atop their main mast and bold as the day. I saw it with my own eyes. Also, there’s an elf waving a couple of flags about. What that is about I don’t know.’

  Dalia held her arms aloft and moved them at odd angles. ‘Like this?’ she enquired.

  Quindil looked surprised. ‘That’s about the size of it.’

  Dalia reached for her spyglass held in a secure cabinet beside the main wheel and took up position starboard. She waited until the messenger came into focus. ‘Quickly, somebody, write this down. “Friends of Brotherhood, danger ahead. Wish to parley. Come to full stop.”’

  And so the message repeated. Dalia dropped her glass and handed it to a crewman nearby. ‘Quindil, we need to speak to the generals, and fast.’

  Both she and Quindil hurried down the steps and into the captain’s cabin, where Generals Jericho and Marrok were in the middle of an arm wrestle. Both men looked up embarrassed, and Jericho let slip his guard. Marrok slammed the older man’s arm to the table.

  ‘Oh, hello there Captain, Major. We were just deciding who –’

  Dalia cut Marrok off. ‘We have bigger fish to fry. An elven ship is off our starboard bow seeking parley.’

  Marrok, a little annoyed at being interrupted so rudely, spoke first. ‘Parley?’

  ‘They wish to converse with us. Major Quindil asserts he saw The Brotherhood emblem on display and the elven ship speaks of danger.’

  ‘What was the exact message?’ Jericho enquired, pulling at his beard.

  Quindil handed Jericho a scrap of parchment, and the elder man studied it carefully. ‘How long until they reach us?’

  ‘I’d say ten minutes, maybe less. It is difficult to –’

  ‘Armaments? Do they have armaments?’

  Dalia looked worried for a moment. ‘I believe it to be an elven warship.’

  ‘I thought the elves hated water, preferring trees,’ Marrok interjected.

  ‘That’s a myth. The elves are beings of the planet, everything in or surrounding this globe is sacred to them,’ Jericho corrected.

  ‘Quindil, hurry and muster the men. We may need to prepare to be boarded. We will be no match for a warship. But, by Rindor, we’ll go down fighting.’

  ‘At once,’ Quindil replied, and left the cabin. Almost immediately, his voice was heard barking orders to the crew.

  ‘What danger could they possibly mean do you think?’ Marrok asked.

  ‘I have no idea, but a parley is a solemn thing. It should not be taken lightly. It is a sign that both parties will meet in peace, discuss what is to be discussed, and leave peaceably afterwards.’

  ‘Still, we should be prepared,’ Marrok added.

  ‘I think, in light of the evidence, we parley, but remain vigilant.’ Jericho looked at each of the occupants in the room. Marrok and Dalia nodded agreement.

  All three left the cramped cabin and ventured into the salty air. Sure enough, the warship was looming large to starboard.

  All three hurried up the steps and armed themselves with blades from lockers fixed to the bulwarks at the rear of the bridge. Quindil had dutifully ordered the general’s armour be brought to the bridge and it arrived swiftly at the hands of two crewmen, dressed in their own armour, ready to fight.

  ‘Your armour, Sirs.’ The soldier proffered the garments, which were taken quickly, to which the young soldier was grateful. The steel cuirasses were heavy, let alone the rest.

  ‘Dismissed.’ Marrok nodded with a smile to the young man, who nearly tripped over his own feet as he saluted and turned heel to leave.

  ‘Luckily, I always wear mine when on duty,’ Dalia commented, and there was a hint of a smirk on her face.

  ‘I’m not sure I’ll fit into this very well.’ Marrok held his steel cuirass aloft. ‘I have lost so much weight since I last wore it. Ships rations are not exactly filling.’

  ‘I’ll just have to pull tighter on your straps, try and get that last hole. I’ve always dreamed of getting back to that level of fitness since leaving basic training umpteen years ago,’ Jericho admitted.

  ‘You’re not ready for retirement yet. There is plenty of life left in you still,’ Marrok remarked.

  ‘I call it grinding your teeth stubbornness,’ Jericho chuckled.

  During the exchange, Dalia had been busily ordering the ship’s crew to lower the main sail, followed by the remainder, and come to a stop. Quindil had the remaining men left of the squad who were not busy with ship duties, standing to, shields in place and ready to protect, while the other hand held a blade.

  Before too long, the Rodinian ship came to a complete stop and with anchor weighed, they waited while the elven warship bore down on them.

  Dalia kept a keen eye on the ship through her spyglass. ‘I see no sign of troops massing to board the ship. Quindil was right, the vessel does indeed bear The Brotherhood crest.’

  Soon, the long, thin warship bumped alongside the much smaller Rodinian vessel. The troop ship was three times as long, though not as wide, and constructed considerably better than their own. Such craftsmanship, Dalia had never seen. The attention to detail was astounding. Gold leaf accented the features of the ship, including those of oak leaves and the elven king’s house emblem.

  The hull of the ship appeared smooth as glass and not a seam between its wooden planks could be seen, except those that held canon ports, which were closed to the relief of Dalia. The ship wasn’t all decoration, though. Ahead of the bulwarks, elven steel armour plates protected the main deck and bridge from direct fire, and Dalia was confident that there would be more within the ship. Elven armour known to be the strongest within Er’ath would ward off most attacks. It was then that lines were thrown to lash the two ships together.

  Though no signs of aggression came from the ship, what appeared to be an honour guard had assembled, and an impressively dressed elf stood in the centre of the guard as the ship halted alongside. He was dark skinned, with an entirely bald head, and w
ore a thin cloak that draped across the wooden deck that glittered in the sunlight, shimmering like gold. It was hard to ascertain a colour if it had one. The cloak tied at the neck with a silver pin shaped into the emblem of the king.

  Underneath, he wore a steel cuirass, also embossed with the king’s house in gold, much how The Brotherhood wore their armour. Today, though, none was more impressive than the elf who stood before them.

  Jericho consciously patted dust from his cloak and licked his thumb to wipe dirt from his cuirass. Captain Dalia stood proudly in front of the two generals and waited.

  ‘Permission to come aboard?’ the elven captain requested.

  Dalia sighed with relief. ‘Permission granted.’

  At once, two elven crew members lifted a long gangplank, slid it through an opening in the side of the ship and permitted it to lay at an awkward angle over the Rodinian ship’s bulwark.

  Dalia turned to face a crewman. ‘Quickly, fetch a crate so the elf can alight.’

  The crewman raced across to the port of the ship and located a suitable container, which he then heaved along the deck with a scraping noise. It was heavier than it appeared. He and another pushed it into place so as to create a step for the elf.

  Without warning, a blast of a horn coincided with the advance of the elf and what appeared to be two of his guard. Lithely, they crossed the plank without blinking or removing steady stares from Dalia and the generals. Seconds passed, and the boarding party alighted upon the Rodinian ship and approached the welcome committee.

  The elf, very tall and slender, towered over Dalia and she had to stretch her neck to peer into his unblinking eyes. ‘Welcome aboard. I am Captain Dalia. With whom do I address?’

  The elf bowed his head long and low in reverence. ‘I am Captain Lokè Krell of the Elven Warship, Mas-turì, and I come in peace,’ he said with a thick accent in the common tongue. He proffered a friendly hand, and Dalia took it in secret relief.

  She smiled and turned to her companions. ‘I’d like to welcome you aboard in friendship, and may I introduce you to Generals Jericho and Wulf, Brotherhood of The Wulf.’