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

by Harrison Davies

  Aboard the stranded pirate ship, Captain Wilhelmina Kelley, Will Kelley to her friends and enemies, a tall, wrinkled faced woman, picked herself up from the deck and threw her black felt hat to the ground. She marched up to her helmsman and thrust a cutlass through his midriff. He cried in agony and fell to the ground in terrible pain.

  ‘Throw him over the side,’ Kelley yelled.

  A flurry of activity occurred, and two shipmates hauled the dying man from the bridge and, with a cry of despair, surprise and shock, he fell to a swifter death.

  ‘Get this ship off this blasted tower,’ Kelley roared, as she swung her cutlass in a threatening manner. Never before had the Blackheart been marooned in battle. She was furious.

  OLD FRIENDS

  Coinin cheered as the familiar Golden Temple fragment flew overhead, its pilot honour-bound to aid Coinin in his hour of need. Floating alongside were several friendly pirate vessels of the same class as those positioned over the castle.

  Years before, Matron Truelove had grown fond of mixing her own potions against advice from the temple healers, and subsequently an almost intact infirmary, following a colossal bang, sheared itself from the Golden Temple and floated three thousand spans into the air, taking with it the matron. Ever since, she had provided healing for pirates by travelling across the globe and offering aid wherever it was needed.

  Coinin, however, his attention drawn away, was shocked to see a giant racing towards the healer’s tent, holding an unconscious Marrok. His brother was covered in blood and Coinin rightly panicked. ‘I must go to him,’ Coinin breathed hard, his heart leaping into his throat.

  Jericho gripped Coinin’s arm.

  ‘Let go of me.’

  ‘I will just remind you, there is more at stake here than Marrok,’ Jericho said sadly.

  ‘I’m aware of that, but we can’t move until those blasted ships are destroyed. Now, let me go.’

  Jericho let loose Coinin’s arm, and immediately the young man raced away to the healer’s tent.

  ❖

  The air was filled with cannon fire, explosions and cries of agony as one pirate crew member after another was set ablaze from exploding debris or magazine. The enemy gave as good as they got and Captain Wilhelmina Kelley had somehow managed to free her vessel from the tower and was swiftly turning to face her enemy. ‘Give all you’ve got to the traitorous Truelove. To think I once permitted her to nurse me back to health,’ Kelley spat and scowled, the wrinkles of her face becoming even more prominent.

  The ship turned lazily to permit the port cannons to be able to fire upon the only usable remnant of the remaining Golden Temple. Several bells rang out signalling the gun crews’ readiness.

  ‘FIRE!’ Kelley bellowed, her voice carrying far.

  Almost instantly, several cannons rocked the ship, and she watched with satisfaction as the projectiles sped towards their target.

  She jumped in utter glee as several large holes appeared in the side of the building. But, then, no explosion was forthcoming. She yelled to her first mate. ‘What was that? Where is my boom?’

  The first mate looked bewildered. ‘I … I’ll find out, Cap’n.’

  ‘Make it snappy if you want to keep your head. I am not in the mood for failure today.’ Her teeth flashed a mixture of gold and decay in a vicious snarl.

  There came a retaliatory series of cannon fire, and Kelley ducked as several cannonballs found their target. The ship yawed dangerously, while splinters of wood burst into the air all around her, a dozen embedding in her face and arms. She bled and screamed in rage. She had killed her best pilot, and now it was left to her to head the helm. A few steps later upon the tilting deck, she reached the wheel and spun it starboard to right the ship. The crew fell about unsteadily as the ship twisted and turned. The rudder, driven by giant fans, was damaged and refused to move entirely.

  Kelley raged, kicking the ship’s wheel, before opening a locker nearby and removing a flintlock pistol and tucking it into her belt. Next, she obtained a loaded musket and hurried to the fore of the ship, thrusting men aside as she made her way. She knew the ship was going down, the flame leaping from below decks and bursting forth through any gap it could find in the wooden planks told her that. Her beloved ship had never been damaged like this before in battle. She shed an angry tear and quickly wiped it away with a gloved hand. Her task was to evacuate the ship and find an escape, and her many resources would ensure that she gained another ship without too much delay. Though none could ever replace the Blackheart.

  She saw an opportunity and without delay jumped from the prow and landed hard, twisting her ankle. She cried in pain and managed to maintain her balance, having jumped aboard the floating infirmary, close to the main sail. Standing on one foot, she hopped forward to hold on to the mast. Above, the sail buffeted in the breeze and Kelley spied a hatch not too far away. Bracing herself, she hopped forward, almost losing balance as the infirmary shifted in a stiff wind.

  Her long, black hair swirled about her face so much that she stopped and gathered it together and held the end in her mouth. With the distraction out of the way, she hopped ceaselessly, her bounds reverberating through the golden panels. Anyone below would know that she was coming and so she pulled the pistol from her belt and carried it at her side.

  A roar, deep and terrifying, filled the air. Kelley whirled around as best she could to see that two gigantic dragons, one black, the other grey, rise from the castle majestically, and with riders saddled to their backs they stretched their wings and sailed over the battlefield towards the incoming ships.

  Kelley tried to laugh and shout with glee but found that a mouthful of hair muted her delight. Instead, she continued forward and reached the wooden hatch, a simple affair with a rope handle. Balancing carefully, she gripped the rope and tugged. It held fast, and so with little option, she pulled harder. With a snap, it opened, and she fell hard.

  Cursing, she crawled to the hatch and peered inside. It was darker below, with just a hint of light coming from somewhere farther in. Checking that the coast was clear, she carefully manoeuvred herself over the hatch and lowered herself down. It was quite a drop, and she hoped that she wouldn’t sprain the other ankle.

  She smacked into the floor, though this didn’t cause any further damage. She rested against the brightly coloured wall and assessed the space. It appeared to be a corridor with a carpet of blue running along it. Several paintings, some crude and others salacious lined the walls. She peered at a watercolour of a topless mermaid lounging across a rock amid a stormy sea. The signature was curious. M. Blackthorn. Where have I heard that before? she wondered, though now was not the time for such things and she pressed on, holding herself against the wall as she hopped, her pistol hand at the ready.

  At the end of the corridor she peeked around the corner and saw a stairwell leading down. She followed it until she came out into a wide-open space with a multitude of beds. She instantly recognised the area as being that where she had received treatment for a leg injury some twelve years previously.

  The deck had taken a beating from her cannonballs. Several holes in the wall opposite her let in streams of light to fall upon battered beds.

  She knew her destination and hobbled into the dormitory, seeking the far end, where she knew the matron would be busily piloting this craft.

  She knew that her snooping around all those years ago, while recuperating, had paid off.

  There, Kelley found a dusty old bookcase that swung aside to reveal a dark and narrow staircase leading upwards.

  She followed it, stopping halfway to give her good ankle a rest and then completed the journey. At the top, a simple wooden doorway barred entry. Though, as soon as she turned the brass knob it opened and let in a flood of light that momentarily dazzled her.

  After a moment, she saw that little had changed. The paintwork was still wanting, the rear wall was still missing and only a rope crossing the gap prevented falls.

  An oddly shaped contraptio
n in the centre of the room held a ship’s compass and a tiller hung from the edge of the room.

  A map of Er’ath was pinned to the wall, and there with her back to Kelley was Matron Truelove, the traitor. As quietly as she could she closed in on the matron, the wind whistling through the room disguising her hops. That was until Truelove turned and saw to her horror that she had been boarded. The pistol pointed directly at her made her heart skip.

  Instantly, she dived for her own pistol, hidden in a recess near the compass, only to come up short and land hard on the floor.

  Kelley kicked away the matron’s hand and retrieved the pistol for herself. She tucked it firmly into her belt and once again focused her attention on the woman before her.

  ‘Traitorous scum. How dare you involve yourself in our matters? You bring dishonour to the pirate king. Pirate against pirate, who’s ever heard of such a thing?’ Kelley spat in the cowering matron’s face. ‘Stand up, and I’ll show you what happens to traitors.’

  Slowly, Truelove stood, her heart quickening and her senses alert to any option of escape.

  Kelley gripped the woman firmly around the arm and pointed the pistol at her upper back. ‘Move,’ she said.

  Truelove found herself thrust towards the rope barrier strung across the gap in the rear wall and knew instantly that the infamous Will Kelley was about to toss her from the infirmary.

  The rope neared, she was mere feet away, when a strange thing happened. Truelove suddenly let go of her fear and almost without thinking, drove her heel into the foot of her captor and made a quick turn just as the other woman howled in pain. The matron gripped the pistol in the pirate’s belt and pulled the trigger. A bang and a flash later and blood was spurting from a wound in Kelley’s thigh.

  In agony and screaming in pain, the pirate still managed to bring her weapon to bear. For a split second, Matron Truelove knew her time was up, yet the pistol clicked but did not fire. A misfire. The matron balled her fist and punched as hard as she could, her knuckles collided with the jaw of the pirate and in the next second Kelley found herself falling, but not landing.

  A confused and pained look spread across her face. Only upon seeing the infirmary growing smaller did she realise death was imminent.

  Matron Truelove scowled and shouted down to the falling pirate. ‘I grew up with a brother. I learned how to handle myself.’ Only then did shock set in, adrenaline making her feel weak and ill. She sat down, feeling faint, and could have sworn that she heard a bell clanging wildly. She puzzled at this, only to find herself thrust backwards at speed to collide with the opposite wall. She blacked out almost immediately.

  The golden, floating infirmary had struck one of the friendly airships while the matron had been distracted and both it and the ship were making fast for the ground.

  Panicked pirates headed swiftly for their lifeboats, and within seconds most had cast off to safety, the individual boilers of each belching dark, thick smoke as they peeled away from the crash. Onlookers on the ground scrambled to clear the vicinity.

  With a devastating explosion from the pirate ship, both craft crash landed into several homes, instantly destroying them and killing the occupants.

  Jericho looked on, horrified. His sister was amongst the debris. He made to run and stopped himself. As hard as it was to think of his sister dead or dying, he had a job to do. Eliana knew the risks.

  ‘General?’ Zaruun spoke softly, ‘I will send a giant to find her.’

  Jericho turned to the ever-faithful protector and cupped him around the neck and shook his hand. ‘Thank you, old friend. I have a feeling that she made it. Tough as old boots, Eliana is. Please, do not mention to Aniol that her mother … her mother –’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll find her and bring her back, safe,’ Zaruun interrupted, and freed himself. He raced away into the crowds of civilians fleeing the fighting, in search of a giant. If he had to, he would find Jericho’s sister, Aniol’s mother himself. Too much death had occurred already.

  ❖

  Coinin and Aniol stood beside the makeshift cot laid inside the healer’s tent. Marrok looked pale and was sweating as if in some fever.

  ‘What is wrong with him?’ he asked of Doctor Zarth.

  The dwarf, dressed in a white smock, looked up at him. ‘Several things, actually,’ he replied, his voice thin and reedy, ‘though it‘s hard to tell how he will recover from them.’

  Coinin sighed. ‘It might be better if you actually told me what damage has been done.’

  Zarth looked momentarily nonplussed. ‘Ah, right, yes, of course, how silly of me. I believe, aside from the welts and cuts about his person, that General Wulf has suffered a severe injury to the spine and quite possibly to the spleen. It is far too early to determine to what extent.’

  Coinin looked at his prone brother, fastened down to the cot with leather thongs across his body and wrists to prevent further injury. Marrok was moaning intelligibly, and a nurse dabbed at his sweaty brow.

  Coinin’s eye stung with tears. He sniffed and looked away only to see more casualties of this war dead and dying. ‘Do all that you can for him, Doctor. For all of them.’

  Before the doctor could reply, Coinin had swept from the tent and headed directly for Jericho, who stood a dozen meters away. Aniol took up the rear.

  Jericho greeted him with sympathy. ‘How is he?’

  Coinin grimaced. ‘It is too early to tell.’

  Aniol attempted to console him and embraced him briefly but he shook her off, and Jericho dropped his head, preferring to stand in silence.

  Coinin clenched his jaw and then decided. ‘Gather the horses. This ends now,’ he said without emotion, though his eyes held a determined stare. ‘I seek a parley with Lordich.’

  A young elf, standing close by, with fiery red hair, raced away to bring horses.

  Aniol froze for a second. She wasn’t exactly frightened of charging forth amongst the throng of warriors and confronting Lordich, she was worried that Coinin would do something stupid and unnecessarily risky and get himself killed.

  She was ripped from her thoughts by another explosion high above them. The last enemy airship had been blasted to bits and now hurtled to the ground.

  All three watched in horror as the dragons, as one, dived low where the primary field of battle raged, and seared the combatants with fire, Lordich again sacrificing his own men in the process. The cries of agony and terror managed to reach as far as the city gate.

  The young elf returned with three mounts and handed each a rein.

  ‘General Jericho?’ Coinin asked, never once taking his eyes from the dragons. ‘Find me a way to take down those dragons.’

  A multitude of possible scenarios ran through his mind, but only one seemed possible. ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘Oh, and before you go, should this be our last meeting, it has been an honour and a privilege to serve with you.’ Coinin dipped his head.

  Jericho took a deep breath and tried to smile. ‘The feeling is mutual, Sir.’

  ‘Then, all being well, I shall meet you before the walls of the castle. Don’t let me down, General.’

  Jericho hopped aboard his battle horse and turned it sharply towards the Main Street. ‘I’ll try not to. So long Aniol, I love you.’ With a cry, he urged the horse into a gallop and raced away along the inclining street towards the castle.

  Aniol watched her uncle go and shed a tear. Coinin, unabashed, held her tight in a loving embrace. ‘He’ll be fine,’ he reassured, and wiped the tears from her youthful face. ‘Now, don’t cry, I need the strong Aniol we all love. I am to face Lordich this morning, and I need you by my side.’

  Aniol’s face, blotchy and red, looked Coinin deep in the eyes. ‘I love you, but if you get me killed, you will regret it.’

  ‘There she is, can’t keep you down for long.’ Coinin put on a convincing smile. Inside, though, he was terrified and already feeling guilt for what he must do. He had trained and trained hard for this day, and now, his brand
of magic was about to meet a darker magic. He knew he had a slim chance of defeating the experienced warlock. One thing he was not was a coward. No one else was up to the challenge, and after all, he did have speed and youth in his favour.

  He released Aniol and patted his brown steed. ‘Mount up, Aniol. The time has come.’ His mind made up and focussed, he mounted his ride and took one last look around him. He noticed that only two ships remained, and friendly ones at that. The dragons were tearing a hole in the hull of one as he watched. He also noticed that the flying infirmary was gone and he wondered where to. But then common sense told him that the matron had likely taken it to safety as it was ill-equipped for battling pirates.

  Together, Aniol and Coinin rode steadily along the Main Street, hooves clacking on cobbles, a rhythmic sound that calmed the riders. Ahead, the number of city dwellers escaping had dwindled and soldier after soldier lined the street, some resting, others laid in small piles, dead, the brave having given the ultimate sacrifice for the cause.

  Seeing these sacrifices only bolstered Coinin’s determination to see matters to the conclusion, no matter what that may be.

  As the pair rode they were saluted, and Coinin proudly saluted back. Soldiers eager to follow their leader began to form behind him, and soon a long column wound its way along the street, tired, though the followers were.

  To both sides of the street, houses, markets, stores and hostels lay in ruins, burned by the retreating enemy whom Coinin’s forces had driven back to the castle.

  The route wound on and on and all the while more soldiers gathered around them, Coinin sensed that they were in some fashion providing him protection. They knew full well the prophecy surrounding him and Marrok, what they did not know was that it was partially a lie.