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

by Harrison Davies

  Coinin withdrew, from around his neck, The Key of Kalor and held it firmly while he closed his eyes.

  Quindil, now flanked by Order soldiers, watched as the trio vanished from the castle in a whoosh of air.

  Moments later, Coinin, Marrok and Lordich landed sprawling before a familiar wooden platform deep in the forest of Sanctuary. Lordich looked upwards and in horror attempted to crawl away, each movement as painful as the last.

  Marrok helped Coinin once more to his feet, and it was all he could do to stay from passing out. Together, he and Marrok dragged Lordich in a tight grip and marched the warlock up several wooden steps and onto the platform. In the centre, a trapdoor lay open, revealing a pit. A long drop to a fiery pit of lava. They had arrived where Lordich had been executed many years ago and had survived by making a deal with Death. It was only fitting that the punishment be seen to its fruition.

  Lordich struggled, sensing his fate. ‘No, please, I beg you. I –’

  ‘Quiet, Lordich. You deserve this fate,’ Marrok cut him off.

  Lordich wailed and struggled, though he nearly passed out and gave up. ‘It is not meant to end like this. I have a deal with Death.’

  ‘It was a one time deal, you fool. He will not save you again. You can only relinquish your soul once,’ Coinin replied, sweat pooling upon his brow.

  ‘Any final words?’ Marrok asked.

  Lordich scowled and spat. ‘I will be avenged.’

  ‘Doubtful. We will round up your remaining brethren and conduct fair trials for all.’ Coinin raised his brows. ‘Then, if that is all, for your crimes I pronounce that your life is forfeit and you will be cast into the pit as per the original proclamation from Archmage Orodor.’

  Without waiting further, both he and Marrok positioned Lordich above the trap. The elder brother unsheathed his father's sword and thrust it at the dark wizard who stepped backward instinctively.

  Lordich screamed horribly as he fell, and a quick look at him saw terror in his eyes. Seconds later, the condemned man hit the lava with a sizzle, and his screams lasted several seconds more as the fiery rock consumed him once and for all.

  Coinin cried genuine tears of remorse and Marrok looked satisfied that justice had been done.

  Coinin held his stomach, noticing the pain once more, and stumbled in a faint. Marrok lurched forward and caught his sibling just in time before the younger also fell into the pit. He carefully laid Coinin down and assessed his wound. His brother needed urgent care. ‘We’ll get you to Matron Truelove, and you’ll be just fine.’

  Coinin tried to smile and instead blacked out.

  The curator awoke several hours later. He was in a comfortable cot inside the medical tent. All around, soldiers and civilians were being tended to. As he came to, he sensed a warm hand holding his, and he followed it. For a moment he could not believe his eyes, and then he yelped with joy.

  ‘Aniol?’

  Aniol sat there, her arm held fast in a sling. ‘Coinin. You’re alive? Rindor be praised.’

  He attempted to reach out a hand to hold her tight and never let her go, except she vanished in a silent mist. He cried out in pain, knowing he had dreamed her presence and grief hit him once more.

  Several moments later, Quindil and Marrok approached the cot. For the first time, Coinin noticed Marrok had a pronounced limp and was black and blue about the face and arms.

  ‘You’ve looked better,’ Marrok joked with relief and ignored the tears in his eyes.

  ‘I’m glad you are safe, Curator. It was touch and go there for a while. We feel Jericho’s and Aniol’s loss deeply.’ Quindil held a grim smile.

  Coinin nodded and looked at each of them in turn, unwilling to bring himself to share his grief. Yet, anyone looking at him knew what immense pain he must be undergoing and not just physically. ‘Is someone going to tell me what happened? I know I was stabbed –’ he changed the topic. ‘Why aren’t you crippled?’ He looked to Marrok.

  Quindil answered. ‘That would be the wonderful Eliana. She has learned a few things about injured spines in her time and had Marrok up and about in no time.’

  ‘I’m still a bit sore and up out of bed against advice from the matron,’ Marrok admitted.

  ‘Yes, indeed.’ Quindil frowned.

  ‘What gave you the strength to demolish the castle wall?’ Marrok asked.

  ‘Grief is a powerful force,’ Quindil offered.

  ‘Lordich knew this. At least we can be certain he is gone,’ Coinin said, holding back the urge to scream in rage in his misery.

  ‘He burned in the pit,’ Marrok confirmed.

  ‘You are certain?’

  ‘Absolutely, we witnessed it ourselves.’

  Coinin lay back and stared at the ceiling for a minute, mulling over everything. ‘Then it is over. You know, I don’t think I could have found the strength to face Lordich if it hadn’t been for your support, all.’

  Everyone smiled politely.

  ‘What is all this? Marrok Wulf, what are you doing out of bed? Oh, and it’s only one visitor to a cot. Marrok, to bed!’ Matron Truelove scolded, her own expression pained. It was obvious she had learned of her brother’s sudden death.

  Coinin lay back and closed his eyes in sorrow. There was much yet to do, and he wondered if he had the will to continue.

  The losses were great, and his guilt almost overpowered him.

  THE RITUAL

  The past three days had been relatively quiet. The elves had begun their return home, and the remaining giants headed back to their respective countries, loaded with gold as payment.

  The remaining Order spent the time burying the many dead outside of the devastated city. Others were tasked with transporting the wounded to towns nearby for treatment in the temples to Rindor. They did not, however, bury the enemy; instead, they burned each one in huge piles as a warning to anyone who considered the betrayal of Rindor as something not to be taken lightly. Burning the body in disgrace and without the proper burial ritual prevented the ascension of the soul to the heavens. The remains were likely to burn for days and so were transported aboard large wooden rafts and burned at sea. Great plumes of dark smoke hung in the air and streamed high across the land, darkening the sun.

  Coinin had chosen a fitting location for The Brotherhood and friendly nations’ dead. A wooded area outside of the City of Rostha became a new graveyard and was dedicated by him in a simple ceremony to honour them.

  Coinin and a small company of Order hierarchy, alongside Eliana Truelove, had privately buried Aniol and Jericho next to each other in a secluded portion of the forest with a private, yet emotional ceremony. At a later date, appropriate burial markers would be installed in tribute to their service and dedication to the cause. More time than they currently had would be devoted to this task.

  It had taken quite some effort on Marrok’s part to comfort Coinin who had unashamedly broken down during the ceremony. Everyone understood and no-one judged him, there was after all hardly a dry eye to be had in any case.

  Residents of the city had begun to return, and despite its challenges, life began to slowly return to normal. Neighbour helped neighbour to clear rubble and patch up their homes. Farmers returned to their fields, and most notably, the once hidden underworld of thieves returned from the sewers and began handing out foodstuffs.

  The once magnificent castle was all but destroyed. It had once obscured the Tower of Elyia, and now the red-tile roofed sandstone tower became the most prominent feature of the city.

  Entry to the tower had been forbidden by Coinin until the day of the ritual, which had arrived. At the stroke of midday, all those who would be in attendance would need to be present within the tower’s upper room.

  Coinin and his Aunt Marisa had visited the tower room alone to ensure everything was present and correct, though he knew nothing of what was to be expected.

  Marisa only had vague memories of what to expect, those passed down by word of mouth, and she being the sole bearer of the kn
owledge prompted Coinin to make a trip to the now destroyed Golden Temple. He had ventured alone to the Great Library and consulted the world’s largest repository of information pertaining to the requirements for invoking the ritual. Len’i and several orcs had accompanied Coinin on their own mission to collect a handful of burial artefacts and a monument.

  He had returned in the early hours of the morning, bringing with him the body of Laliala Menin, who had lain in state under the temple since the day of its destruction. It had been deemed foolish to venture that way to retrieve the body while Lordich lived. With him now defeated and dead, the time was ripe to provide the archmage with a fitting burial. The orcs had returned a day later.

  The day before the ritual was due saw the afternoon sun warm a circular clearing in the Great Forest, to the North of Rostha, entirely separate to the burial spot for the other fallen. Hundreds of mourners had gathered to witness the funeral of their beloved archmage in a specially prepared place.

  In the centre of the clearing the remaining orcs, under Len’i’s guidance, had erected a marble monument, which had been carved long ago and stored at the Golden Temple site to await Laliala’s death. They had retrieved it and constructed it in short order.

  Not a dry eye could be found among the onlookers, and a reverent silence held its own atmosphere. Those in attendance had dressed as solemnly and appropriately as possible. It had not been possible to obtain funeral attire from the temple so each had spent time cleaning and washing whatever garments they could muster. Jonjo, for instance, wore his armour and red cloak. Though it had seen better days, bashed and torn, he had done his best to polish the armour, bang out the dents and had sewn his cloak. Still, he was unhappy; however, there was no other option.

  In the centre of the gathered and laid upon a human sized block of pure white marble four feet high, Archmage Laliala Menin’s body awaited the service. The Order had done their very best to make her presentable. Thankfully, the natural cold and damp free conditions of the underground cave system below the temple had helped preserve her.

  The remaining senior members of the Order of The Wulf stood before the monument and faced the gathered. Coinin took a step forward and coughed slightly before taking a long breath.

  ‘It has been a long time since I last conversed with Laliala Menin, and I miss our interactions dearly. She is … was my greatest advocate. I joined The Order as a very naive young man, full of self-doubt and uncertainty as to why I had been chosen to become the protector of the faith. Laliala, through her teachings, showed me why I was selected and I embraced my destiny whole-heartedly.’ Coinin stopped for a moment, unsure whether to mention the deception Laliala had been party to, regarding his and Marrok’s true role in the events yet to transpire. He looked around at the expectant faces and dropped his gaze momentarily. He could not bring himself to reveal the truth and so took another deep breath and continued. ‘Despite her faults, Laliala was a fierce defender of the faith; she instilled in me the need to remain true to Rindor and to hold the faith sacred. It is what has kept me centred, and I think that is what was so exceptional about Laliala, her ability to bring out the best in a person. Before we begin the ceremony, I would like to invite anyone to step forward and offer a eulogy.’ He stepped backwards.

  A few awkward moments of silence followed and initially no-one stepped forward until Marrok spoke. ‘I … I’m not much of a speaker, but I owe Archmage Menin much. She trusted me enough to train me to become a leader. I’m sure without her guidance and this destiny Coinin and I are intertwined with, I’d now be a paid mercenary in a fighter’s guild, without much of a purpose other than killing for money.’ His cheeks burned red, and he dropped his gaze.

  Quindil took the stage next and turned briefly to look upon the prone archmage before turning back. Tears wet his cheeks, and his shoulders drooped. ‘I will miss Laliala, not only for her infectious laugh and terrible jokes but because she took me in when things got bad.’ His voice broke, and Coinin stepped forward to comfort him.

  Jonjo took the opportunity to speak and paced agitatedly. ‘I wish to speak for our departed brother, Jericho. He had known Laliala Menin from childhood. They grew up together in a small village, both of them eager to leave at the first chance made available to them. He would often speak fondly of those two children, aged fifteen, skulking from their homes in the dead of night, carrying nothing more than a loaf of bread and their boots. They had a plan, you see, to join the carnival and become entertainers. Only that never happened. He and Laliala found themselves knee deep in mud on the road to Rostha, and they found themselves taken captive by a band of slavers. For the next three years they endured severe hardships, sold from one slaver or master to another. Finally, when they thought all was lost, they were rescued by Orodor and The Brotherhood … The Order. The rest is history. When they both turned twenty-one, they joined The Order. From there they advanced through the ranks, grateful to have a purpose, and I guess I’m saying, without Laliala, Jericho could never have endured, and now she is gone. We, like Jericho, have not only lost our oldest and dearest friend but our constant source of encouragement. I will remember her as I remember each of our departed, with great fondness.’

  Coinin waited as Jonjo returned to his position before the marble slab and raised his hands. ‘As time is running short, and there is yet much to do, I must cut the eulogies short and ask that you kneel before our departed.’

  In short order, all who had gathered kneeled on the soft grass and bowed their heads in reverence. Coinin remained standing, his arms outstretched to the heavens. As if on cue, those in attendance began to hum a solitary note of mourning. It reverberated around the treeline and bounced off the marble slab, such was its combined power. The air crackled with an energy that smelled reminiscent of that found after a lightning strike. Almost sulphurous, yet not. Coinin could not quite place it, and yet it was not unpleasant. He was channelling energies that would preserve Laliala in her current state in perpetuity.

  As the humming swelled and the energies boiled, he laid his hands upon the body of Laliala, and audibly the sound, like that of a high wind through trees, whistled around the gathered and a pale green light emanated from his hands to engulf the archmage. All too quickly the sound ceased and the energy dissipated.

  The congregated changed the tone of their hum to a much higher note, with intermingled low tones from the male voices in attendance.

  Coinin faced the crowd. ‘We are gathered here to commit our beloved sister to the tomb, where neither shall she decay nor shall she want for anything. Even now her spirit resides in the place where she watches over us, protecting and guiding us. I invite you all to pray in silence for a moment, and to remember our departed.’ He joined the others and bowed his head in silence.

  His mind raced, finding it difficult to find the words to pray, only to find himself interrupted by a familiar voice.

  ‘Such a beautiful ceremony you have given me, Coinin. Your kindness and humility shine like a beacon in the heavens and Rindor is so proud of you. Keep true to yourself and follow your heart. A fine archmage you will make if only you embrace that choice.’

  ‘I have free will in this matter?’ Coinin found himself asking the disembodied voice of Laliala.

  ‘You were never fated to become archmage, and that honour could very well fall to another. Orodor saw in you the qualities needed to possess such an office, a fierce determination to do what is right, and damn the consequences. I only hope that you choose wisely.

  ‘There are rules –’

  Laliala cackled. ‘How many times must I say it –’

  ‘Yes, I know, I have it within me to change the rules.’

  ‘Finally, he learns. Our time is brief, but there is something you should see.’

  Coinin immediately dreaded those words. Was another deception about to be revealed?

  As if she had read his mind, Laliala smiled and pointed behind him.

  Coinin turned, and his heart stopped. He took
a sharp intake of breath. There before him stood three smiling figures, wrapped in each others’ arms. He stepped forward and looked at each in turn. ‘I’m sorry that you had to die.’ His gaze fell longingly upon Aniol who looked at him lovingly.

  ‘I wouldn’t have changed a thing,’ Jericho announced. ‘I am with Eraywen once more.’ He hugged his wife tightly and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  Aniol broke away from the group and led Coinin away from the assembled for a moment.

  ‘I will always love you, Coinin, just please, don’t spend your life grieving. You have so much yet to accomplish. The world needs good in it, and you are a force for good.’

  Coinin grimaced. ‘Aniol, I –’

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry for. I gave my life willingly in your service. The time we had together was wonderful, and I will cherish it always.’

  ‘I love you, Aniol,’ Coinin said.

  ‘And you will love again.’

  Before he could object, Menin joined them, and a sad expression passed across her face.’Oh, how I wish we could spend more time together. Sadly, our time here is ending. Remember, I am always watching over you, and should you wish to visit, I would welcome the company on my cliffside.’

  With that, the presence of everyone in his mind vanished, and he was left alone with his own thoughts. A single tear slipped down his cheek. ‘Farewell, dear ones.’

  Coinin opened his eyes, wiped his cheek and raised his head to the heavens. ‘Mighty Lord Rindor. Should it please you, I commit this earthly vessel to the tomb. Her form preserved as a reminder to all, your greatness and majesty. I ask only that you hold her spirit fondly in your heart and care for her as you did upon Er’ath. May your blessings be upon her and all who worship you.’ He paused. ‘So be it.’

  Each of the crowd stood and cried, ‘So be it.’

  Coinin and the senior Order moved aside to permit the others to pay their last respects, and it was some forty minutes later that all who had come to say goodbye had done so.